might get his head into a noose of trouble as soon as possible--the
very liberty they gave him, on purpose for his quick damnation--was
the means of making reputation for him.

Nobody advised him; so with singularly British phlegm and not more
than ordinary common sense he devised a method of his own for scotching
night-prowlers. He stationed his men at well-considered
vantage-points, and trusted them. With a party of ten, he patrolled
the city ceaselessly himself and whipped every "watchman" he caught
sleeping. One by one, the blackmailing brigade began to see the
discomfort of a job that called for real wakefulness, and deserted over
the Hills to urge the resumption of raids in force. One by one, the
night-prowling fraternity were shot as they sneaked past sentries. One
by one, the tale of robberies diminished. It was merely a question of
one man, and he awake, having power to act without first submitting a
request to somebody in triplicate on blue-form B.

The time came, after a month or two, when even natives dared to leave
their houses after dark. The time came very soon, indeed, when the
nearest tribes began to hold war councils and inveigh against the
falling off of the supply of plunder. Cunningham was complimented
openly. He was even praised by one of "Them." So it was perfectly
natural, and quite in keeping with tradition, that he should shortly be
relieved, and that a senior to him should be placed in charge of his
little force, with orders to "organize" it.

The organization process lasted about twelve hours; at the end of that
time every single man had deserted, horse and arms! Two nights later,
the prowling and plundering was once more in full swing, and Cunningham
was blamed for it; it was obvious to any man of curry-and-port-wine