AT GIBRALTAR EN ROUTE ii 



" It must be awfully hard to lose a prayer-book," 

 said her confidant, in a most misguided tone of com- 

 miseration. 



And I was so worked up by my own disabilities in 

 this direction that, although I didn't know either of 

 the speakers, I ejaculated feelingly, " Hard ! It's 

 almost impossible ! " 



But I am digressing. We must back to that joint 

 of mutton we sat down to. 



Since Kenneth insisted on taking, and taking only, 

 his beloved foundling, Cecily and I decided on similar 

 rifles. The advantage of being able to exchange cart- 

 ridges in a land of such scarcity is obvious. We took 

 an ordinary 12-bore shot-gun apiece, and for these it 

 was not necessary to smuggle, because shot-gun cart- 

 ridges can be bought in Tiflis. Our revolvers were 

 our old i2-bores — more contrabandism ! 



Tents of any sort can be obtained to order in the 

 Caucasian capital. The tailors of the Tatar Bazaar 

 can make, or, should I sa}^, will tackle, anything from 

 a court gown to a saddlebag. 



Kenneth joined Cecily and me at Gibraltar, and we 

 all repaired to the Bristol Hotel for the night, as our 

 promised barque was not yet in the bay. 



Kenneth is studiously, carefully soldierly, and walks 

 like an animated ramrod, with a slight limp, as though 

 to emphasize his calling. The lameness is a pose 

 merely, but he has posed so long and so well that he 

 has ceased to be a poseur. He has only once been in 

 action in all his life, and that in his salad days when 

 he was green in judgment. A vigorously contested 



