G. was there. Our major had at some time served with him in the past. After years of separation they met as friends and used to drink together. But their relations were suddenly cut short. They quarrelled and G. became his mortal enemy. There was a rumour that they had even fought on the occasion, which was by no means out of the question with our major: he often did fight. When the convicts heard of this their delight knew no bounds. “As though old Eight-eyes could get on with a man like him! He is an eagle, but the major a⁠ ⁠…” and here usually followed a word quite unfit for print. The prisoners were fearfully interested to know which had given the other a beating. If the rumours of the fight had turned out to be false (which was perhaps the case) I believe our convicts would have been very much annoyed. “You may be sure the colonel got the best of it,” they used to say; “he’s a plucky one, though he is small, and the major crawled under the bed to get away from him, they say.”