The Argosy, Vol. XXIV No. 2 — page 190: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A COURAGEOUS COWARD. The sequel to an unaccepted challenge—Why Little Binks refused to fight the major—'T he opportunity for his strange revenge and in what manner Binks made use of it. | BEY called him Little Binks in the regiment. Not to his face, though, for almost every one liked him too well. Not that Binks was exactly a small man physically. But he was short—stocky, so to speak—with rather broad shoulders and long arms, disproportionate to his height. Little Binks had peculiarities—who of us has not? But his were ofa nature that in a roistering regiment like the one which he had joined at the opening of the Zulu campaign, made him at first a trifle unpopular with his fellow officers. Little Binks was alone in the world. He hadn’t any one at home, not even a sweetheart. He had, so it was whispered, been engaged to a lovely girl who had ‘‘thrown him over’’ for Major Trevitt. And the major of course knew all about it. The Zulu army had gathered in force near the border of the Mazembi districts. Barrow’s mounted infantry, with an artillery corps and three com- panies of the Thirteenth dragoons, were holding the fortifications only a mile away, anxiously awaiting reinforcements. And there were rumors that the Zulus were meditating a sudden onslaught which should sweep the few hand- fuls of British invaders from the sandy soil. A dozen or more of the Thirteenth, among whom were little Binks and Major Trevitt, sat discussing the situation in front of the rude native bar- racks in the glow and splendor of an African moonlight. Major Trevitt, a tolerably abstemious man, according to his light, was disposed to be somewhat sentimental, and remarkably self complacent, after having disposed of a trifle more than his usual allowance. Binks, who sat a little apart, was unusually silent. Perhaps his thoughts were thousands of miles away from Zululand. Possibly he was thinking of the one bright episode in an otherwise lonely life. I mean, of course, the days when the fair but fickle Alice Ritchie had smiled—or seemed to—on his suit. Of course, for a little while he had lived in a fool’s paradise, like many a wiser man. But, unlike the wiser man above mentioned, little Binks had never lost his faith in or his love for the girl who had thrown him aside as she would a slightly worn glove. His belief in her was unbounded—he would have died to serve her. ‘Alice?’ It was Major Trevitt’s voice elevated a trifle above its usual pitch in answer to something said by one of those next him—a very intimate friend and fellow officer. { Q 3 a (E(@) ae | a icel ooo) S3