who had his little boy with him, brought the youngster up to the soldier
and said--

"Now, sonny, you've never seen an Englishman. Here is one. Look at him
well; you must shoot lots of them yet."

"Go away," said one of the Boers, "what do you mean by staring at the
man like that? Don't you know any better than to insult a helpless
prisoner?"

"I'm sorry," said the old man, turning away, "I don't want to hurt his
feelings; I only wanted to show my son the game he must track one day."

The little boy cried when they led him away, saying--

"I 'ants my 'ickle khaki, I 'ants my tame Englishman!"

"Don't cry," said the old man, "father will catch you some to-morrow."

The little fellow's eyes brightened with anticipation, and his tears
gave way to smiles. Sure enough his father came into camp a few days
later driving before him two diminutive steeds bending beneath the
weight of two corpulent khakis. He called his son and said--

"Now, sonny, here are the soldiers I promised you."

The little fellow looked them over carefully. Then his lower lip began
to pout, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

"What's the matter, my son," asked the astonished father, "doesn't he