TOLD BY THE DOCTOR. 



IT was a wet night in the rains, and late. Most of our 

 fellows had left the mess, and the Doctor and we two, after 

 several games of " Snookers," had passed into the ante-room 

 and flung ourselves into deep chairs. 



The conversation turned to shikar. Ours wasalittle station 

 where much of the after-dinner talk did hinge on shooting 

 topics, for many of us were keen sportsmen, and there was 

 more game to be had in the neighbourhood than is to be 

 found round and about most military stations now-a-days. 



We were recalling reminiscences of by-gone days, and 

 each had some little anecdote to relate of past shooting sea- 

 sons, which led us away into a series of discussions and con- 

 troversies that lasted well into the already far-spent night, 

 when the Doctor, calling for a fresh cigar, said: "Well, boys, 

 I'll spin you a yarn that I seldom care to relate, for the truth 

 is that, looking back now, I myself can scarcely believe that 

 it ever occurred. I don't ask you to believe a word of it, 

 mind you let it pass as a yarn. But wait " 



'"Quihil" 



"Hazur!" 



" Three big whiskies and sodas ! " 



Our dear old Doctor was one of the real old school, and 

 although, in deference to the latest innovation, we called 

 him " Colonel " in public, it was with relief that we revert- 

 ed, when we could, to the name by which we had known 

 him for many a year and the relief was mutual. 



' ' Colonel / " he would say. ' < D your Colonels ! Have I 



been your " sawbones " all these years to have that flung at 

 my head in my old age ?" 



