Elderly police officers are not normally abroad at midnight, alone, Unarmed and unattended. with re-hellions Burma spreading away into the darkness, Mr. Fernandez, though few things really astonished him, was, in fact, rather surprised to find tvimself striding in these circumstances down the Old Prome Road. The hight was pitch black. There had been a squall of rain, but it had passed, leaving puddles in the road that reflected the starlight. He noted where the Wettigan road branched off to the left, but kept straight on another few hundred yards till the fourteenth milestone loomed up like 'a white ghost. Mr. Fernandez sat himself down upon it.
Everything was very stil, Only a nightjar uttered its melancholy. call. Presently the beam of an electric torch flashed out, swept across. the road, and fell upon the police officer seated on the milestone, He sat quite ill for a moment, then slowly turned Yowards the Tight, at the same time raising his hands sufficiently to show was unarmed. "Good evening Bo Lamaung," he said.
"Good evening Sir," replied a voice from the darkness." "Are you alone and unarmed, Sir?"
I hope you do not doubt my word. Do you forget, Bo Lamaung, that I too am Bo and a gentleman?"
Iwas not wanting. How can you be a Febel Bo, maintain discipline, feed Jyour men at the public expense, and extort money and information, with-
Jout severity? Lamaung was an enemy in a state of war, and as such knew how to be stern. He would have shot Fernandez remorselessly off the milestone on the slightest suspicion lor provocation. Still, Lamaung had Jcharacter, He id not kill for fun or for passion as so many of the rebel leaders did. 'There were no barbarous murders in his record. Fernandez watched him narrowly in the torch-ight, understood him, and realized that he was a fine fellow. should ko to shake hands with you Bo Gyi,' he said, For answer, Lamaung blew his de ge," and exonerated the bus driver. whistie—low and not too loud: and instantly eighteen more men rose from bushes and ditches, and stepped alertly out onto the road, They were all heavily armed. "Now I'm for it," thought Fernandez. "Men will say I was a fool, and so I am, to accept such an invitation. Well, it can't be helped. T have always trusted Johnny Burman of the right type, and here ig the test, After all, my little wite is Burmese, God bless her," and he jealmly folded his arms across his broad chest.
Then the slim Burmese Bo advanced There was a slight hesitation, and then Bo Lamaung, the famous Burmese outlaw, one of the notable figures produced by the late dis astrous rebellion, came forward, In the glow of his own torch you could just Bee that he was short, and of a trait" bulld, with neat limbs and delicate Joins. His complexion was fair even for a Burman, and he was not ill looking. Such was Bo Lamaung, the "White Dacoit."
He had earned that name not so much on account of his white skin, However, as because of his conduct Lamaung if aman we may respect—rebel though he was. He was one of those outlaws who harboured genuine ambitions regarding the liberty of his nation, He had been inspired by a veal and burning zeal, and it wa not Mis fault that the pretender to the throne was $0 ridiculous @ person as Saya San, and that the whole ising had ended in disaster and an orgy of crime and. bestiality. Sadly misguided was Lamaung, but motives and convictions were honest, 'A real patriot: his behaviour, even in the later days of disillusionment, never degenerated Into barbarity. to the big police oticer and held out his hand. "Sir, T thank you. I am proud to shake hands, Sir. We sur-ender to you, Sir, Tand my eighteen followers, and we beg you, Sir, to
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.