"
"Good heavens!" I gasped, "you touched--absolutely TOUCHED--
Mulledwiney?"
"Yes," he said hurriedly, "I knew what you would say; it was
against the Queen's Regulations--and--there was his sensitive
nature which shrinks from even a harsh word; but I did it, and of
course he has me in his power."
"And you have touched him?" I repeated,--"touched his private
honor!"
"Yes! But I shall atone for it! I have already arranged with him
that we shall have it out between ourselves alone, in the jungle,
stripped to the buff, with our fists--Queensberry rules! I haven't
fought since I stood up against Spinks Major--you remember old
Spinks, now of the Bombay Offensibles?--at Eton." And the old boy
pluckily bared his skinny arm.
"It may be serious," I said.
"I have thought of that. I have a wife, several children, and an
aged parent in England. If I fall, they must never know. You must
invent a story for them. I have thought of cholera, but that is
played out; you know we have already tried it on The Boy who was
Thrown Away. Invent something quiet, peaceable and respectable--as
far removed from fighting as possible. What do you say to
measles?"
"Not half bad," I returned.
"Measles let it be, then! Say I caught it from Wee Willie Winkie.
You do not think it too incredible?" he added timidly.
"Not more than YOUR story," I said.
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