"I 'ants my 'ickle khaki, I 'ants my tame Englishman!"
"Don't cry," said the old man, "father will catch you some to-morrow."
The little fellow's eyes brightened with anticipation, and his tears
gave way to smiles. Sure enough his father came into camp a few days
later driving before him two diminutive steeds bending beneath the
weight of two corpulent khakis. He called his son and said--
"Now, sonny, here are the soldiers I promised you."
The little fellow looked them over carefully. Then his lower lip began
to pout, and tears rolled down his cheeks.
"What's the matter, my son," asked the astonished father, "doesn't he
like his khakis?"
"No, daddy," replied the little chap, striving with his tears.
"Why not, my lad?"