piously for a week. That is to say, Lew started a flirtation with
the Colour-Sergeant's daughter, aged thirteen - "not," as he
explained to Jakin, "with any intention o' matrimony, but by way
o' keep in' my 'and in." And the black-haired Cris Delighan
enjoyed that flirtation more than previous ones, and the other
drummer-boys raged furiously together, and Jakin preached sermons
on the dangers of bein' tangled along o' petticoats."

But neither love nor virtue would have held Lew long in the paths
of propriety had not the rumour gone abroad that the Regiment was
to be sent on active service, to take part in a war which, for the
sake of brevity, we will call "The War of the Lost Tribes."

The barracks had the rumour almost before the Mess-room, and of
all the nine hundred men in barracks, not ten had seen a shot
fired in anger. The Colonel had, twenty years ago, assisted at a
Frontier expedition; one of the Majors had seen service at the
Cape; a confirmed deserter in E Company had helped to clear
streets in Ireland; but that was all. The Regiment had been put by
for many years. The overwhelming mass of its rank and file had
from three to four years' service; the non-commissioned officers
were under thirty years old; and men and sergeants alike had
forgotten to speak of the stories written in brief upon the
Colours - the New Colours that had been formally blessed by an
Archbishop in England ere the Regiment came away. They wanted to
go to the Front - they were enthusiastically anxious to go - but
they had no knowledge of what war meant, and there was none to
tell them. They were an educated regiment, the percentage of
school-certificates in their ranks was high, and most of the men
could do more than read and write. They had been recruited in