—a sort of bivouac—and there Mr. Hickey
had got up "a little cards" with young Cox,
newly joined, and two civilian gentlemen,
at which it was said young Cox had lost a
hundred pounds, and was going about ready
almost to cry.

Doctor Findlater, who now seemed nearly
enrolled as one of the corps, was standing
one morning at the door of the colonel's
quarters, talking to that officer in his
drollest fashion. Indeed, already he had
acquired a species of influence over that
simple, honest nature; and the colonel had
barked out repeatedly, "Yes, yes! Findlater
a thorough good fellow—wish we could
exchange a certain pettifogger for him. A
good jovial fellow! A thorough wit!" For
this soldier had a feeling like reverence for
all that he thought wit and learning. The
Doctor was by this time well up in all the
private life of the corps, called the officers
"Dunlop," "Strange," and even "Coxy,
my boy," and was now talking wisely to
the colonel about the "great scandal" of
the regiment.

"Oh, we'll have our friend the solicitor
'serving' some of us with a bit of paper—
a writ of summons and plaint."

"Infernal pettifogger. I'd give a thousand
pounds to get him out; but he won't
go—he'll take no hint."

"Short of a kicking," said the Doctor,
"which he'd only be glad of; for then his
father would have his action of 'sault and
battery."

"And all this among gentlemen," said
the colonel, getting into a fury.

"Poor Dick Mahony, who was hunted into
his grave by the whole tribe, would always
say, 'That was an attorney, sir, saving
your presence.' I declare it is too bad.
There is a nice, free, overboard tone among
gentlemen; sure we don't want shorthand-
writers among us, taking down our words?
I'd have to watch well what I said, for
one. But you know, colonel, with that
sort of cattle one must be cautious. I
took his measure at once the other night.
And I tell you what, colonel," added the
Doctor, mysteriously, "stand-off as I am to
your young fellows, I have picked up a
trifle or two about this same lad; for lad
he is, I am afraid, sir; and this takes
rather the black and yellow livery of the
discounter, with horns and tail to match."

"You don't tell me so," said the colonel,
in delight. "Then we have him at last."

"Leave it to me, colonel," the Doctor
said, with greater mystery still. "All in
good time. There's a young friend of ours
who shall be nameless, and who for the
moment is struck down by the hand of
sickness, but whom, with God's blessing,
we shall pull through—a fine young fellow,
now on his back, and it's a scandal he
should be made the prey of schemers."

"I know well who you mean," said the
colonel. "But he must be exposed. Do
you mean to tell me——"

"Whist! Leave it to me, colonel. We
must work out the facts first—put this and
that together. Leave it to me. My brother,
poor Mick Findlater, led the quarter
sessions bar at Macroom for twenty years,
and many's the splendid speech I heard
him make to judge and jury, rousing them
like a blast o' the silver trumpets yonder at
St. Peter's. I'll work it all out, never fear."

"My dear Findlater," said the colonel,
in delight, "only give me a handle, just to
get rid of this blackguard, and I am
eternally obliged to you."

CHAPTER XVII. PATRON AND PUPIL.

UNDER the Doctor's care the young man
gradually improved in health. Indeed, he
seemed never to let him out of his sight,
the "case was so ticklish;" and the real
truth was, that within a week he had
established a powerful influence over him. He
had by this time learned the whole history
of his embarrassments, how they had
arisen, when the present Mr. Leader was
in an humbler way of life, and when a
benevolent and charitable aunt had given
him a commission in a marching regiment.

Once or twice Captain Hickey had called,
and had been rather pressing to see the
young man, and on the second occasion
had been confronted by the Doctor, who
had himself opened the door. "Ah! I
couldn't—couldn't really," said the Doctor,
plaintively, "not for the lad's own father.
The poor young stripling! Why, he's just
as if he was balanced on the edge of that
table-knife." The Doctor had one in his
hand. "We can't tell which side he'll go
down. I assure you, Mr. Hickey, it was
touch and go at one time. A poor lookout
for his creditors, if he has any."

He said this so significantly, that Mr.
Hickey said, abruptly, "How do you
mean?"

"Yes," said the Doctor; "you know
that's what I'm afraid of. There's something
of the kind on his mind. I fear he's
been taken advantage of: like other poor
boys, fallen in bad hands."

"Why, you seem to make him out a
sort of schoolboy," said the other. "I can