Some wore steel breastplates, like that of the suit of armour in the hall, and steel helmets.  The sight of the camp thrilled the boy in his dream, and yet he knew that he had seen it all before actually, and in real life—­in some former life.

Beside one of a small cluster of tents that stood well apart from the rest sat a big man who instantly reminded the boy of his dread “Grandfather,” whom he would have loved to have loved had he been given the chance.

The big man was even more strangely attired than those others who clumped and clattered about the lower part of the camp.

Fancy a great big strong man with long curls, a lace collar, and a velvet coat—­like a kid going to a party!

The velvet coat had the strangest sleeves, too—­made to button to the elbow and full of slits that seemed to have been mended underneath with blue silk.  There was a regular pattern of these silk-mended slits about the body of the coat, too, and funny silk-covered buttons.

On his head the man had a great floppy felt hat with a huge feather—­a hat very like one that Dearest wore, only bigger.

One of his long curls was tied with a bow of ribbon—­like young Lucille wore—­and the boy felt quite uncomfortable as he noted it.  A grown man—­the silly ass!  And, yes! he had actually got lace round the bottoms of his quaint baggy knickerbockers—­as well as lace cuffs!

The boy could see it, where one of the great boots had sagged down below the knee.

Extraordinary boots they were, too.  Nothing like “Grumper’s” riding-boots.  They were yellowish in colour, and dull, not nicely polished, and although the square-toed, ugly foot part looked solid as a house, the legs were more like wrinkled leather stockings, and so long that the pulled-up one came nearly to the hip.

Spurs had made black marks on the yellow ankles, and saddle and stirrup-leather had rubbed the legs....

And a sash!  Whoever heard of a grown-up wearing a sash?  It was a great blue silk thing, wound round once or twice, and tied with a great bow, the ends of which hung down in front.

Of all the Pip-squeaks!

And yet the big man’s face was not that of a Pip-squeak—­far from it. 
It was very like Grumper’s in fact.

The boy liked the face.  It was strong and fierce, thin and clean-cut—­marred only, in his estimation, by the funny little tuft of hair on the lower lip.  He liked the wavy, rough, up-turned moustache, but not that silly tuft.  How nice he would look with his hair cut, his lower lip shaved, and his ridiculous silks, velvet, and lace exchanged for a tweed shooting-suit or cricketing-flannels!  How Grumper, Father, Major Decies, and even Khodadad Khan and the sepoys would have laughed at the get-up.  Nay, they would have blushed for the fellow—­a Sahib, a gentleman—­to tog himself up so!

The boy also liked the man’s voice when he turned towards the tent and called:—­