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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Globe-trotters!" suggested Lance. "Or 'Piffers' devoid of reverence!" retorted Roy. "Hullo! Here come the others." Footsteps and voices in the quadrangle waked hollow echoes as when a stone drops into a well. Presently they sounded on the stairs near by: Flossie's rather boisterous laugh; Martin chaffing her in his husky tones. "Great sport!
"Yes, vigorously, to the tune of bullets and cold steel; so that we manage to keep things pretty lively between us! Since we annexed the Frontier, nearly forty years ago, the Piffers have taken part in more than thirty Border expeditions, all told, to say nothing of the Afghan War." Quita's attention had been diverted from her picture to her husband's face.
Taking 'em all round, I think you'll find the Piffers as fine a set of fellows as you could wish to meet anywhere; and it's hard work, and hard conditions of life, that thrash them into shape." "And the stations, where I am to be 'buried alive' in such good company?" "I'm afraid the stations are the least satisfactory part of the programme.
The strong bond of affection between these two first and last of a family of six was enhanced by their very unlikeness. Lance had the élan of a torrent; Paul the stillness and depth of a mountain lake. Lance was a rapier; Paul a claymore slow to smite, formidable when roused. Both were natural leaders of men; both, it need hardly be added, 'Piffers' in the grain.
"Be sure you Piffers will get all the kudos you deserve." And five minutes later, he fell shot through the body into Desmond's arms. "Nothing . . nothing serious," he protested, while his face wried with pain. "Don't delay matters . . on my account. I can pull along somehow, if you'll give me an arm."
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