THE NECROMANCERS.
The other day, while I was out for a ride, I happened to run up against my two Chinese acquaintances, Ah Sin and Dam Li, and I stopped to have a chat with them. After the usual greetings Dam Li remarked:—
"Hon'lable officer lookee too muchee sad."
"Allee same like littlee dog when 'nother big dog stealum bone," supplemented Ah Sin.
"I wasn't aware of it," I said shortly, a little hurt at the comparison.
"P'haps hon'lable officer losee lations allee same little dog," suggested Dam Li.
"Well," I admitted, "I have lost something—at least the Mess has. Only it isn't rations; it's a milk-jug."
This, our only article of plate, was a battered piece of treasure-trove salved from the ruins of a derelict village.