272 TROPIC DAYS 



and clean to him. In fact it was neither. It must 

 have appeared a celestial scene to moaning Tsing Hi. 

 The rough upright slabs (once rich yellow, now dingy) 

 promised some sort of refuge from the dust, and the 

 narrow strip of verandah a thin slice of shade. The 

 mound of broken bottles at the rear betokened the 

 drinks of the past, while the mind dwelt lovingly on those 

 of the present. Three panting goats, all aslant, but- 

 tressed themselves determinedly against the end of 

 the house, and two boys, long since dust immune, 

 occasionally hunted the goats into the sun and away 

 among the ant-hills. But when Tsing Hi slid from the 

 horse and into the shade, he felt like a saint in bliss. 

 They gave him water, and he wailed until Tim silenced 

 him with threats of jolts and locked the manacles round 

 the middle post. 



Tim sighed profoundly as he scented beer. " I 

 do belave I'm dhry, Jerry. Give's a long un. I've 

 swallowed mud by the bucket. Give the wee little 

 divil outside a pannikin o' tay. Maybe it'll revoive 

 him 1" 



Tim drank long and well. 



"I've heard about the case," Jerry said, as he filled 

 the thick glass a third time. "Fancy the little beggar, 

 an' him commin' and goin' as flash as ye make 'em, and 

 pickin' and thavin' all the time. Maybe he got the 

 ear-rings the missis is after missin'." 



"Nawthin' o' the sort's in the swag we took with the 

 raskil." 



A bit of dinner in the back room waited, for Jerry 

 believed in keeping well in with the force. Tim fed 

 heartily, and, in spite of dust, heat, and the chatter of the 

 children, dozed, to wake with a start. 



"Me sowl to glory I It's aslape I've bin I Let's 

 hav' a look at the little fella and be off." 



