coin that he could scrape together.

Often, in the dreary heart-achy days that followed, when weeks passed
ere he saw the face of a white man, when he had to combat opium and
bhang and laziness in the natives under him, the bird and his funny
tricks had saved him from whisky, or worse. In camp he gave Rajah much
freedom, its wings being clipt; and nothing pleased the little rebel so
much as to claw his way up to his master's shoulder, sit there and
watch the progress of the razor, with intermittent "jawing" at his own
reflection in the cracked hand-mirror.

Up and down the Irrawaddy, at the rest-houses, on the boats, to those
of a jocular turn of mind the three were known as "Parrot & Co."
Warrington's amiability often misled the various scoundrels with whom
he was at times forced to associate. A man who smiled most of the time
and talked Hindustani to a parrot was not to be accorded much courtesy;
until one day Warrington had settled all distinctions, finally and
primordially, with the square of his fists. After that he went his way
unmolested, having soundly trounced one of the biggest bullies in the
teak timber-yards at Rangoon.

He made no friends; he had no confidences to exchange; nor did he offer
to become the repository of other men's pasts. But he would share his
bread and his rupees, when he had them, with any who asked. Many tried
to dig into his past, but he was as unresponsive as granite. It takes
a woman to find out what a man is and has been; and Warrington went
about women in a wide circle. In a way he was the most baffling kind
of a mystery to those who knew him: he frequented the haunts of men,
took a friendly drink, played cards for small sums, laughed and jested
like any other anchorless man. In the East men are given curious