like to buy him off you, and 'top him off'--finish his education."

"Oh, 'e did, did 'e?" growled Hardy mutinously, but with ill-concealed
interest, "Well, 'e ain't a-goin' t' 'ave 'im!" He breathed hard upon a
buckle and polished it to his satisfaction. "Brankley is some connosser
I will admit," he conceded grudgingly, "but Kissiwasti's got orl th'
'toppin orf wot's good fur 'im--dahn Regina--'e went through a reg'lar
course dahn there--took 'is degree, so t' speak. . . . I uster tike an'
'ang 'is kydge hup in that little gallery in th' ridin school of a
mornin'--when Inspector Chappell, th' ridin' master wos breakin' in a
bunch o' rookies--'toppin' orf,' wot? . . ."

"Tchkk!" clucked McCullough wearily. "What is the use of arguin' with an
old sweat like him? . . . Hardy'll be happy enough in Hell, so long as
he can have his bloomin' old blackguard of a parrot along with him. If
he can't there will be a pretty fuss."

"Bear up, Hardy!" comforted George. "When you've got that 'quiff' of
yours all fussed up, and those new 'square-pushin'' dress-pants on you're
some 'hot dog.' . . . Now, if I thought you could 'talk pretty' and
behave yourself I'd--"

The old soldier grinned diabolically. "Sorjint?" he broke in mincingly
"c'n I fall out an' tork t' me sister?--garn, Reddy! wipe orf yer
chin! . . . though if I did 'appen t' 'ave a sister she might s'y th'
sime fing abaht me, now, as she might s'y abaht you--to a lydy-fren' o'
'er's, p'raps. . . ."

"Say what?" demanded George incautiously.