Travers looked around.
"Some one has accused me falsely," he declared. "I have a prophetic sense
of injury."
"On the contrary, that is what I am suffering from," Stafford retorted.
"Since hearing that you have a new scheme, I have been hastily reckoning
how many weeks' leave I shall have to sacrifice to pay for it."
Travers shook his head.
"As usual--wrong, my dear Captain," he said. "My scheme has two parts. The
first part is known to you all, though for the benefit of weak memories, I
will repeat it. Ladies and gentlemen, in this Station we have the honor of
being protected from the malice of the aborigine by two noble regiments.
We count, moreover, at least thirty of the fair sex and forty
miscellaneous persons, such as miserable civilians like myself, and
children. Hitherto, we have been content to meet at odd times and odd
places. When hospitality has run dry, we have resorted to a shed-like
structure dignified with the name of club. Personally, I call it a
disgrace, which should at once be rectified."
"I have already contributed my mite!" protested a young subaltern from the
British regiment.
"I know; so has everybody. With strenuous efforts I have collected the sum
of five hundred rupees. That won't do. We require at least four times that
sum. Consequently, we must have a patron."
"The second part of your programme concerns the patron, then?" Captain
Webb inquired, with an aspect of considerable relief.
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