more passed without our expectations being
realised. We now supposed that they had failed
in their attempt, or had gone farther afield in
another direction, yet felt little or no uneasiness
about them; but when another hour had
elapsed, and the shades of night began to close,
an uneasy feeling crept over us all. A tiger-trap
was only a few yards from our tent, so our first
dread was that they had fallen a prey to some
wild animal, or had tumbled into a ravine, or
over a precipice. While we were yet discussing
these apprehensions, the sun had nearly gone
down, and as the twilight is but short in the
tropics, we had resolved to start in search of
the missing men, when O'Hallaran was descried
slowly returning. Seeing that one was safe, all
our sympathies were now about the other, and
poor Dennis was assailed on all sides with questions
as to what had become of his companion.
To our astonishment and surprise, he declared
that he knew no more about him than we did.
"He and I parted," he said, "shortly after
starting, taking different routes, and having
agreed that whoever got to the point first
should wait for the other." O'Hallaran had
been unsuccessful in his attempt, and had
consequently returned, expecting to have found
Flanigan at home before him.

It was by this time quite dark, and the greatest
apprehension was felt by all as to the probable
fate of the missing man. The officers now heard
of the affair, and, under a vague idea that he
might have lost himself, about one hundred of
the regiment, officers and men, descended the
gorge with lanterns. This attempt was dangerous
by daylight even, therefore much more so at
night; for none of the natives would, for love
or money, lead; they certainly followed, but
even that was cautiously done. And so we had
to find our way as we best could, sliding,
slipping, stumbling, and tumbling, until we
reached the bottom: fancying all the time that
every bush contained a tiger, and that every
stone hid a cobra di capello; for what could
be expected from griffins like us? And when
we had got thus far, what more could be done?
Our lanterns but barely made the darkness visible,
in a spot where the sun's rays had never reached.
But all the little that we could do, we did: bugles
were sounded, pistols fired, and men shouted
until they were hoarse—all fruitlessly. After
each sound or shout we waited for a reply, but
none came to gladden our expectant ears; no
faint halloa answered; all was as still as death.
After remaining there nearly two hours, we were
obliged to retrace our steps, with the sorrowful
conviction that our poor comrade had come to
an untimely end.

With a good deal of trouble we got back the
way we came, and to our tents: where, as a
matter of course, all the talk was about Flanigan.
Some one now discovered that every regiment
or detachment that had ever lain at this place
had lost one or more men by tigers. We
were then new in the country, and all the tales
we had ever heard or read of those creatures
came to our recollection. And such stories were
told that night of their daring and determined
character, that few were inclined to sleep, and one
or two objected to lying next the door of the tent.

We marched the following morning to Carlee,
leaving a sergeant and six men to prosecute the
search after Flanigan by daylight; but although
they looked everywhere, they gained no tidings
of him. The party overtook us at night, and,
on hearing of their ill success, we gave up all
hope. Somehow, a suspicion had been gaining
ground that he might have met his death by the
hand of his comrade. "They might have
quarrelled," said some, "and an unlucky blow might
have proved fatal." So every one began to look
coldly upon O'Hallaran, and this he could not
but observe; for, if it was not openly expressed,
it was strongly hinted; and thus, between the
loss of his companion and the suspicious looks
of his comrades, the poor fellow seemed like one
out of his senses.

We next reached Wargum, where a court of
inquiry was ordered to assemble, to report on
the disappearance of private Flanigan. Just
as the proceedings of the court had terminated
in its returning him missing, there was a
noise and uproar in the camp; all hands turned
out to see what was the cause, when, to our
surprise and great joy, we saw four men lifting
Flanigan, all alive and hearty, though
apparently hurt, out of the mail-cart. The first
to shake hands with him was O'Hallaran,
who, crying and laughing by turns, was accosting
all the men who stood round with "Sure, and
now did I kill him?"

Flanigan was taken to hospital, where his
right foot was discovered to be cut dreadfully,
and so inflamed and swollen that it was doubtful
for some time whether it would not have to be
amputated; but eventually it got quite well.
It was rather remarkable that he would give us
but little information about the accident; in fact,
he always avoided the subject. It was not until
years afterwards, and when we were encamped
again upon the same spot, that I heard him
relate his adventure. I will endeavour to give his
narrative as nearly as possible in his own words:

"When Dennis and I parted, I took what
seemed to be the nearest road, but which in
reality turned out to be the longest and most
difficult. It was the most tumble-down path
that ever I traversed, at one time going down
the nearly perpendicular side of a water-course,
and of such a steep descent that one false step
would have finished my wanderings. I had to
scramble here and there with only a shrub or
tree-root to sustain me, and these gave way
pretty often; but I always managed, as one
failed, to lay hold of another, and, struggling
on in this manner, I at last reached the bottom
of the rock, the summit of which was my goal.

"On casting my eyes upward I now perceived
the difficulty of the task I had undertaken, and
hesitated to ascend. Above was a perpendicular
rock of great height, the only apparent
way to the top of which was a narrow footpath,
some ten or twelve inches wide, which, winding
to the left up the face of the precipice, seemingly