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of physical danger, for the Guardias Civiles shoot after their first hail. If you do not stop, that is. If you do stop, things are decidedly awkward for you. You generally run. . . .

When the large neighbourhood of the Pyrenees got altogether too warm, Tony went south for a change of climate. At Ronda he met the first Englishman he had spoken to for six months and more, a cheerful subaltern. on leave from Gib., shooting, and getting little. Game was scarce. His name was Archie Brackenridge, and he and Tony were very glad to see each other. For a week they were together almost constantly, and at the end of that time Brackenridge thought Tony was a new and marvellous invention, he wondered nobody had thought of him before. The boys were almost the same age, but Tony felt a paternal fondness for Archie. He was pleased when the latter suggested that on his approaching return to London he should come too, “as you say you haven’t been there for nearly four years, what?”

It amused Tony. Brackenridge took it for granted that he had money to spend . . . well, he had! He could not think of a better way to let those savings go than in having six weeks of the best. It would be fun to see Archie’s side of London. Yes, he’d come. Rather!

He waited at Algeciras till Archie (who, by the way, was his second cousin—not that that mattered) was ready to go. It was rather amusing to start out for the conquest of London under Archie’s wing. Tony grinned at the thought. And after this—with every shilling spent—oh, ye Gods of Graft, how he would have to work! A good change—a thorough good change—that was what made life worth living. <<nop>>