AT GIBRALTAR EN ROUTE 9 



" Here you are," say the Customs, " here are your 

 rifles. We're afraid they won't be much good to you, 

 cartridges being ' prohibited merchandise.' Still, here 

 are your rifles." 



Of course, this ridiculous arrangement necessitates 

 smuggling of a real pantomimic variety, of which the 

 officials must be thoroughly cognisant. Kenneth got 

 his ammunition through in a belt slung round his 

 waist, but we didn't yearn to emulate him. I draw 

 the line at a waist over twenty-four inches, and so 

 does Cecily. 



We invented the most ingenious underskirts, regular 

 arsenals, and in little pockets, adroitly stitched up, 

 we smuggled dozens of cartridges — far more than 

 Kenneth carried. The drag and weight was terrific, 

 and they stuck out like crinolines, besides barking our 

 shins rather ; but it couldn't be helped. I really think 

 the Customs pretend not to notice the little bulges, 

 and knobs, and betraying ridges beneath the garments 

 of nomadic sportsmen. Had anyone knocked against 

 us — ! But if countries will have such silly laws ! 



The rifle beloved of Kenneth's heart, his one ewe 

 lamb of rifles, is a "256 Mannlicher, picked up for 

 14s. 6d. at a sort of annual remnant sale organized by 

 the L. and N.W. Railway. My cousin maintains that 

 this treasure-trove, purchased for such a trifling sum, 

 is the finest rifle he has. How anyone could forget so 

 large a thing as a rifle I cannot imagine, and the odd 

 part of it is that if you really want to lose a parcel in 

 a railway train you simply can't, and the thing returns 

 to you, like the bread on the waters, after many days. 



