THE WATERS OF MADNESS
Unexpected things happen in the Territories which Mr. Commissioner Sanders rules. As for example: Bones had gone down to the beach to "take the mail." This usually meant no more than receiving a mail-bag wildly flung from a dancing surf-boat. On this occasion Bones was surprised to discover that the boat had beached and had landed, not only the mail, but a stranger with his baggage.
He was a clean-shaven, plump man, in spotless white, and he greeted Bones with a friendly nod. "Morning!" he said. "I've got your mail."
Bones extended his hand and took the bag without evidence of any particular enthusiasm.
"Sanders about?" asked the stranger.
"Mr. Sanders is in residence, sir," said Bones, ponderously polite.
The other laughed. "Show the way," he said briskly.
Bones looked at the new-comer from the ventilator of his pith helmet to the soles of his pipe-clayed shoes. "Excuse me, dear old sir," he said, "have I the honour of addressin' the Secretary of State for War?"
"No," answered the other in surprise. "What made you think that?"
"Because," said Bones, with rising wrath, "he's the only fellow that needn't say 'please' to me."