"That's the reason why," I said. "A second-rate man wouldn't have
taken things to heart as he has done."

We drove in quietly at the far end of the garden, and crept round
the house. There was a place close to the wall all grown about
with tamarisk trees, where I knew Garm kept his bones. Even Vixen
was not allowed to sit near it. In the full Indian moonlight I
could see a white uniform bending over the dog.

"Good-bye, old man," we could not help hearing Stanley's voice.
"For 'Eving's sake don't get bit and go mad by any measly pi-dog.
But you can look after yourself, old man. You don't get drunk an'
run about 'ittin' your friends. You takes your bones an' you eats
your biscuit, an' you kills your enemy like a gentleman. I'm
goin' away--don't 'owl--I'm goin' off to Kasauli, where I won't
see you no more."

I could hear him holding Garm's nose as the dog threw it up to
the stars.

"You'll stay here an' be'ave, an'--an' I'll go away an' try to
be'ave, an' I don't know 'ow to leave you. I don't know--"

"I think this is damn silly," said the officer, patting his
foolish fubsy old retriever. He called to the private, who leaped
to his feet, marched forward, and saluted.

"You here?" said the officer, turning away his head.

"Yes, sir, but I'm just goin' back."