6. IN THE MANNER OF LIPSTICK
IT was one of those glorious days at headquarters which occur in the spring of the year. A fresh, cool breeze blew in from the sea, swaying the fronds of the palms and raising lazy swirls of dust at hut corners.
Mr. Tibbetts stood before a small body of non commissioned officers, a book in his hand, his monocle screwed into his left eye. From the fact that he wore his Sam Browne, and that a leather—scabbarded sword hung at his left hip, it could be inferred that he was engaged in official duties.
Sanders, standing by the rail of the residency stoep, asked a question.
"A lecture," said Hamilton grimly. "They don't know what he's driving at, and I'll bet he doesn't, either. So they're all square."
Bones was lecturing on the subject of field engineering.
"Ab
