and grinned with huge delight. Tommy produced another piece of fruit, pressed it on the Gurkha in exchange, and both shook hands as though they were blood brothers. Then the Gurkha, smiling and happy, trotted after his comrades. It was quite a pleasant incident.
How we got mixed up with the Second Division, how we were shrouded, as usual, in clouds of dust, how we bumped over bye-paths and dodged obstinate mountain battery mules, need not be related. The point is that at length we got clear, and found ourselves driving along the Gurgaon Road. A mile away, on the direct road to the Kutab Minar, dense volumes of dust marked the march of the Army. And when we turned homewards, a good three hours later, the column was still passing. A Division takes up a good deal of room, and when you have seen one once on an Indian road, a mile is about the best distance from which to contemplate it. The first camp you come to on the Gurgaon Road is the modest plot set apart for the Political Agents of the Bombay Presidency. The tents are arranged in two long rows, and at the end of them is a spacious drawing room tent, leading into another tent which will serve as a dining room. Just across the road is the camp of the Raj Kumars of the Presidency, who will be in charge of Mr. C. W. Waddington. Their dwellings are also unpretentious, as becomes young men; and they certainly have an example set them in the Spartan severity of Mr. Waddington's quarters.
