McSporran slid off his cot with surprising alacrity. "Here's ane!" he
announced blithely. Hardy, carefully hanging up his spotless, glossy
equipment at the head of his cot, turned to the farrier who was likewise
engaged in arranging a bridle and a pipe-clayed headrope.

"Wot abaht it, Mac?" he queried briskly.

McCullough, in turn looked at Redmond. "All right!" responded that young
gentleman with a boyish shrug and grin, "come on then, you bloomin' old
sponges! let's wet my transfer. I'll have time to pack my kit to-morrow,
before the West-bound pulls out."

Upon their departing ears, grown wearily familiar to its
monotonous repetition, fell the parrot's customary adieu, as that
disreputable-looking bird swung rhythmically to and fro on its perch.

"Goo' bye!" it gabbled, "A soldier's farewell' to yeh! goo' bye! goo'
bye!"




CHAPTER II

_Homeless, ragged and tanned,
Under the changeful sky;
Who so free in the land?
Who so contented as I?_.
THE VAGABOND