“Well, to be short, sir, he intended to keep me.  I believe he would have done it for the sake of the cornet; but before I had finished eating, up stepped a sentry escorting a man with my bombardon under his arm.  I had left it, as you know, in the boat, and had heard no order given; but the boat I never saw again, and here was my bombardon.  Hadji Hamid took it in both hands, felt it all over, patted it, and ended by turning it over to me and calling in dumb show for a tune.  I tell you, my performance was a success.  At the first blast he leaned back suddenly in his chair; at the second he turned a kind of purple under his yellow skin; but at the third he caught hold of his stomach and began to roll in his seat and laugh.  You never saw a man laugh like it.  He made scarcely any sound; he was too near apoplexy to speak; but the tears ran down his face, and one minute his hand would be up waving feebly to me to stop, the next he’d be signalling to go on again.  I wanted poor O’Hara; he used to give himself airs and swear at my playing, but among these people he and his cornet would have had to stand down.

“They gave me a bed that night in a corner of the verandah, and next morning my master came himself to wake me, and took me down to the village bathing-pool, just below the fortifications.  It hurt my modesty to find the whole mob of inhabitants gathered there and waiting, and it didn’t set me at ease, exactly, to notice that each man carried his spear.  For one nasty moment I pictured a duck-hunt, with me playing duck.  But there was no cause for alarm.  At a signal from Hamid, who stripped and led the way, in we tumbled together—­men, women, and children—­the men first laying their spears on the bank beside their clothes.  Six remained on shore to keep guard, and were relieved after five minutes by another six from the pool.  There was a good deal of splashing and horse-play, but nothing you could call immodest, though my fair skin came in for an amount of attention I had to get used to.

“My breakfast was served to me alone, and soon after I was summoned to attend my master in one of the state rooms of the house.  I found him on a shaded platform, seated opposite an old native as well-dressed and venerable-looking as himself, but stouter.  The pair lolled on cushions at either end of the platform, smoking and smoothing their grey beards.  I understood that the visitor was a personage and (somehow) that he had been sent for expressly to hear and be astonished by my performance.

“The two instruments were brought in upon cushions, and I began to play.  The visitor—­who had less sense of humour than Hamid—­did not laugh at all.  Instead, he took the mouthpiece of his tchibouk slowly from his lips and held it at a little distance, while his mouth and eyes opened wider and wider.  Hamid eyed him keenly, with a kind of triumph under his lids; and the triumph grew as the old man’s stare lit up with a jealousy there was no mistaking.