Each “chum” had a room to himself, but they took their meals together in a wide, open veranda, and were catered for by a fat Madrassi butler, who did not rob them unduly, seeing that his accounts had to be inspected and passed by thrifty “Mac,” who ruthlessly eliminated all imaginative items.

In their large compound their cook kept game fowl—­long-legged fighting cocks from Shanghai—­and other poultry, including the curly feathered freaks of Aracan.  Here FitzGerald stabled his horses—­a capital pair, trust an Irishman for that!—­and Roscoe, a stout elderly Shan, ironically nicknamed “Later On.”  MacNab rode a bicycle; a useful mount that required neither oats nor groom.

The three chums soon made Shafto feel at ease and at home; they were lively companions, too.  Roscoe was a capital mimic, and kept his company in roars of laughter.  FitzGerald drew notable caricatures and could tell a story with the best.  “The MacNab,” who had a certain dry wit, took the stranger firmly in hand with regard to finance—­namely, the furnishing of his room and other expenditure.

“Bide a wee; go slow at first,” he advised.  “Just hire a few sticks from Whiteway and Laidlaw, and wait your chance for picking up bargains at Balthasar’s auction rooms; anyway, you don’t want much.  A bed, a couple of chairs, table, washstand and tub.  I have a chest of drawers I can let you have cheap.  In the rains the pictures fall out of their frames, the glue melts, rugs are eaten by white ants in a few hours—­and your boots grow mushrooms.”

“That’s a cheerful look out!” exclaimed Shafto.  “Well, I have nothing to tempt the white ants.”

Shafto was adaptable and soon found his feet.  At first his entire time and energies were concentrated on his new job and learning an unaccustomed task; he spent hours on the wharves along the Strand, or across the river at Dallah, standing about in the glare, and dust and blazing sun, amongst struggling, sweating coolies and swinging cranes.  He had also to supervise his Eurasian subordinates, see paddy shipped, and keep a sharp look out for their delinquencies, such as receiving “palm oil,” or overlooking damages.

In the midst of his daily work Shafto was not insensible to his surroundings, but, on the contrary, acutely alive to the strange bewildering glamour of the East, where life dwells radiantly.  He was interested in the ever-changing shipping, the crowds of strange craft lying by the wharves or moored to buoys in the great impetuous Irrawaddy, and the swarms of sampans darting in all directions.  Overhead was the hot blue sky, blazing upon a motley crowd, which included the smiling faces of the idle, insouciant, gaily-clad Burmans—­most genial and most engaging of nations.