THE HALF-HEARTED

by

JOHN BUCHAN

NOTE

For the convenience of the reader it maybe stated that the period of this tale is theclosing years of the 19th Century. 

CONTENTS

PART I

 I. EVENING IN GLENAVELIN II. LADY MANORWATER'S GUESTS III. UPLAND WATER IV. AFTERNOON IN A GARDEN V. A CONFERENCE OF THE POWERS VI. PASTORAL VII. THE MAKERS OF EMPIRE VIII. MR. WRATISLAW'S ADVENT IX. THE Episodes OF A DAY X. HOME TRUTHS XI. THE PRIDE BEFORE A FALL XII. PASTORAL AND TRAGEDY XIII. THE PLEASURES OF A CONSCIENCE XIV. A GENTLEMAN IN STRAITS XV. THE NEMESIS OF A COWARD XVI. A MOVEMENT OF THE POWERS XVII. THE BRINK OF THE RUBICON XVIII. THE FURTHER BRINK XIX. THE BRIDGE OF BROKEN HEARTS

PART II

 XX. THE EASTERN ROAD XXI. IN THE HEART OF THE HILLS XXII. THE OUTPOSTS XXIII. THE DINNER AT GALETTI'S XXIV. THE TACTICS OP A CHIEF XXV. MRS. LOGAN'S BALL XXVI. FRIEND TO FRIEND XXVII. THE ROAD TO FORZA XXVIII. THE HILL-FORT XXIX. The WAY TO NAZRI XXX. EVENING IN THE HILLS XXXI. EVENTS SOUTH OF THE BORDER XXXII. THE BLESSING OF GAD

THE HALF-HEARTED

PART I

CHAPTER I

EVENING IN GLENAVELIN

From the heart of a great hill land Glenavelin stretches west and southto the wider Gled valley, where its stream joins with the greater waterin its seaward course. Its head is far inland in a place of mountainsolitudes, but its mouth is all but on the lip of the sea, and saltbreezes fight with the flying winds of the hills. It is a land of greenmeadows on the brink of heather, of far-stretching fir woods that climbto the edge of the uplands and sink to the fringe of corn. Nowhere isthere any march between art and nature, for the place is in the main forsheep, and the single road which threads the glen is little troubledwith cart and crop-laden wagon. Midway there is a stretch of wood andgarden around the House of Glenavelin, the one great dwelling-place inthe vale. But it is a dwelling and a little more, for the home of thereal lords of the land is many miles farther up the stream, in themoorland house of Etterick, where the Avelin is a burn, and the hillshang sharply over its source. To a stranger in an afternoon it seems avery vale of content, basking in sun and shadow, green, deep, andsilent. But it is also a place of storms, for its name means the "glenof white waters, " and mist and snow are commoner in its confines thansummer heats. 

On a very wet evening in June a young man in a high dogcart was drivingup the glen. A deer-stalker's cap was tied down over his ears, and thecollar of a great white waterproof defended his neck. A cheerfulbronzed face was shadowed by the peak of his cap, and two very keen greyeyes peered out into the mist. He was driving with tight rein, for themare was fresh and the road had awkward slopes and corners; but none theless he was dreaming, thinking pleasant thoughts, and now and thenlooking cheerily at the ribs of hill which at times were cleared ofmist. His clean-shaven face was wet and shining with the drizzle, poolsformed on the floor of the cart, and the mare's flanks were plasteredwith the weather. 

Suddenly he drew up sharp at the sight of a figure by the roadside. 

"Hullo, Doctor Gracey, " he cried, "where on earth have you come from?Come in and I'll give you a lift. "

The figure advanced and scrambled into the vacant seat. It was a littleold man in a big topcoat with a quaint-fashioned wide-awake hat on hishead. In ill weather all distinctions are swept away. The strangermight have been a statesman or a tramp. 

"It is a pleasure to see you, Doctor, " and the young man grasped amittened hand and looked into his companion's face. There was somethingboth kindly and mirthful in his grey eyes. 

The old man arranged his seat comfortably, buttoned another button atthe neck of the coat, and then scrutinised the driver. "It's fouryears--four years in October since I last cast eyes on you, Lewie, myboy, " he said. "I heard you were coming, so I refused a lift fromHaystounslacks and the minister. Haystounslacks was driving fromGledsmuir, and unless the Lord protects him he will be in Avelin waterere he gets home. Whisky and a Glenavelin road never agree, Lewie, as Iwho have mended the fool's head a dozen times should know. But Ithought you would never come, and was prepared to ride in the nextbaker's van. " The Doctor spoke with the pure English and high northernvoice of an old school of professional men, whose tongue, save intelling a story, knew not the vernacular, and yet in its pitch andaccent inevitably betrayed their birthplace. Precise in speech anddress, uncommonly skilful, a mild humorist, and old in the world'swisdom, he had gone down the evening way of life with the heart of aboy. 

"I was delayed--I could not help it, though I was all afternoon at thejob, " said the young man. "I've seen a dozen and more tenants and Italked sheep and drains till I got out of my depth and was gravelycorrected. It's the most hospitable place on earth, this, but I thoughtit a pity to waste a really fine hunger on the inevitable ham and eggs, so I waited for dinner. Lord, I have an appetite! Come and dine, Doctor. I am in solitary state just now, and long, wet evenings aredreary. "

"I'm afraid I must excuse myself, Lewie, " was the formal answer, withjust a touch of reproof. Dinner to Doctor Gracey was a seriousceremony, and invitations should not be scattered rashly. "Myhousekeeper's wrath is not to be trifled with, as you should know. "

"I do, " said the young man in a tone of decent melancholy. "She oncecuffed my ears the month I stayed with you for falling in the burn. Does she beat you, Doctor?"

"Indeed, no, " said the little old gentleman; "not as yet. Butphysically she is my superior and I live in terror. " Then abruptly, "Forheaven's sake, Lewie, mind the mare. "

"It's all right, " said the driver, as the dogcart swung neatly round anugly turn. "There's the mist going off the top of Etterick Law, and--why, that's the end of the Dreichill?"

"It's the Dreichill, and beyond it is the Little Muneraw. Are you gladto be home, Lewie?"

"Rather, " said the young man gravely. "This is my own countryside, andI fancy it's the last place a man forgets. "

"I fancy so--with right-thinking people. By the way, I have much tocongratulate you on. We old fogies in this desert place have been oftenseeing your name in the newspapers lately. You are a most experiencedtraveller. "

"Fair. But people made a great deal more of that than it deserved. Itwas very simple, and I had every chance. Some day I will go out and dothe same thing again with no advantages, and if I come back you maypraise me then. "

"Right, Lewie. A bare game and no chances is the rule of war. And now, what will you do?"

"Settle down, " said the young man with mock pathos, "which in my casemeans settling up also. I suppose it is what you would call the crucialmoment in my life. I am going in for politics, as I always intended, and for the rest I shall live a quiet country life at Etterick. I've awonderful talent for rusticity. "

The Doctor shot an inquiring glance from beneath the flaps of his hat. "I never can make up my mind about you, Lewie. "

"I daresay not. It is long since I gave up trying to make up my mindabout myself. "

"When you were a very small and very bad boy I made the usual prophecythat you would make a spoon or spoil a horn. Later I declared you wouldmake the spoon. I still keep to that opinion, but I wish to goodness Iknew what shape your spoon would take. "

"Ornamental, Doctor, some odd fancy spoon, but not useful. I feel aninner lack of usefulness. "

"Humph! Then things are serious, Lewie, and I, as your elder, shouldgive advice; but confound it, my dear, I cannot think what it should be. Life has been too easy for you, a great deal too easy. You want alittle of the salt and iron of the world. You are too clever ever to beconceited, and you are too good a fellow ever to be a fool, but apartfrom these sad alternatives there are numerous middle stages which arenot very happy. "

The young man's face lengthened, as it always did either in repose orreflection. 

"You are old and wise, Doctor. Have you any cure for a man withsufficient money and no immediate profession to prevent stagnation?"

"None, " said the Doctor; "but the man himself can find many. The chiefis that he be conscious of his danger, and on the watch against it. Asa last expedient I should recommend a second course of travel. "

"But am I to be barred from my home because of this bogey of yours?"

"No, Lewie lad, but you must be kept, as you say, 'up to scratch, '" andthe old face smiled. "You are too good to waste. You Haystouns arehigh-strung, finicking people, on whom idleness sits badly. Also youare the last of your race and have responsibilities. You must rememberI was your father's friend, and knew you all well. "

At the mention of his father the young man's interest quickened. 

"I must have been only about six years old when he died. I find so fewpeople who remember him well and can tell me about him. "

"You are very like him, Lewie. He began nearly as well as you; but hesettled down into a quiet life, which was the very thing for which hewas least fitted. I do not know if he had altogether a happy time. Helost interest in things, and grew shy and rather irritable. Hequarrelled with most of his neighbours, and got into a trick ofmagnifying little troubles till he shrank from the slightestdiscomfort. "

"And my mother?"

"Ah, your mother was different--a cheery, brave woman. While she livedshe kept him in some measure of self-confidence, but you know she diedat your birth, Lewie, and after that he grew morose and retiring. Ispeak about these things from the point of view of my profession, and Ifancy it is the special disease which lies in your blood. You have allbeen over-cultured and enervated; as I say, you want some of the saltand iron of life. "

The young man's brow was furrowed in a deep frown which in no way brokethe good-humour of his face. They were nearing a cluster of houses, thelast clachan of sorts in the glen, where a kirk steeple in a grove oftrees proclaimed civilization. A shepherd passed them with a couple ofdogs, striding with masterful step towards home and comfort. The cheeryglow of firelight from the windows pleased both men as they were whirledthrough the raw weather. 

"There, you see, " said the Doctor, nodding his head towards theretreating figure; "there's a man who in his own way knows the secret oflife. Most of his days are spent in dreary, monotonous toil. He is forever wrestling with the weather and getting scorched and frozen, and theresult is that the sparse enjoyments of his life are relished with arare gusto. He sucks his pipe of an evening with a zest which the manwho lies on his back all day smoking knows nothing about. So, too, thelabourer who hoes turnips for one and sixpence the day. They know thearduousness of life, which is a lesson we must all learn sooner orlater. You people who have been coddled and petted must learn it, too;and for you it is harder to learn, but pleasanter in the learning, because you stand above the bare need of things, and have leisure forthe adornments. We must all be fighters and strugglers, Lewie, and itis better to wear out than to rust out. It is bad to let choice thingsbecome easily familiar; for, you know, familiarity is apt to beget aproverbial offspring. "

The young man had listened attentively, but suddenly he leaned from theseat and with a dexterous twitch of his whip curled it round the leg ofa boy of sixteen who stood before a cottage. 

"Hullo, Jock, " he cried. "When are you coming up to see me? Bring yourbrother some day and we'll go and fish the Midburn. " The urchin pulledoff a ragged cap and grinned with pleasure. 

"That's the boy you pulled out of the Avelin?" asked the Doctor. "I hadheard of that performance. It was a good introduction to yourhome-coming. "

"It was nothing, " said the young man, flushing slightly. "I wascrossing the ford and the stream was up a bit. The boy was fishing, wading pretty deep, and in turning round to stare at me he slipped andwas carried down. I merely rode my horse out and collared him. Therewas no danger. "

"And the Black Linn just below, " said the Doctor, incredulously. "Youhave got the usual modesty of the brave man, Lewie. "

"It was a very small thing. My horse knew its business--that was all. "And he flicked nervously with the whip. 

A grey house among trees rose on the left with a quaint gateway ofunhewn stone. The dogcart pulled up, and the Doctor scrambled down andstood shaking the rain from his hat and collar. He watched the youngman till, with a skilful turn, he had entered Etterick gates, and thenwith a more meditative face than is usual in a hungry man he wentthrough the trees to his own dwelling. 

CHAPTER II

LADY MANORWATER'S GUESTS

When the afternoon train from the south drew into Gledsmuir station, agirl who had been devouring the landscape for the last hour with eagereyes, rose nervously to prepare for exit. To Alice Wishart the countrywas a novel one, and the prospect before her an unexplored realm ofguesses. The daughter of a great merchant, she had lived most of herdays in the ugly environs of a city, save for such time as she had spentat the conventional schools. She had never travelled; the world of menand things was merely a name to her, and a girlhood, lonely andbrightened chiefly by the companionship of books, had not given herself-confidence. She had casually met Lady Manorwater at some politicalmeeting in her father's house, and the elder woman had taken a strongliking to the quiet, abstracted child. Then came an invitation toGlenavelin, accepted gladly yet with much fear and searching of heart. Now, as she looked out on the shining mountain land, she was full ofdelight that she was about to dwell in the heart of it. Something ofpride, too, was present, that she was to be the guest of a great lady, and see something of a life which seemed infinitely remote to herprovincial thoughts. But when her journey drew near its end she wasfoolishly nervous, and scanned the platform with anxious eye. 

The sight of her hostess reassured her. Lady Manorwater was a smallmiddle-aged woman, with a thin classical face, large colourless eyes, and untidy fair hair. She was very plainly dressed, and as she dartedforward to greet the girl with entire frankness and kindness, Aliceforgot her fears and kissed her heartily. A languid young woman wasintroduced as Miss Afflint, and in a few minutes the three were in theGlenavelin carriage with the wide glen opening in front. 

"Oh, my dear, I hope you will enjoy your visit. We are quite a smallparty, for Jack says Glenavelin is far too small to entertain in. Youare fond of the country, aren't you? And of course the place is verypretty. There is tennis and golf and fishing; but perhaps you don'tlike these things? We are not very well off for neighbours, but we arelarge enough in number to be sufficient to ourselves. Don't you thinkso, Bertha?" And Lady Manorwater smiled at the third member of thegroup. 

Miss Afflint, a silent girl, smiled back and said nothing. She had beenengaged in a secret study of Alice's face, and whenever the object ofthe study raised her eyes she found a pair of steady blue ones beamingon her. It was a little disconcerting, and Alice gazed out at thelandscape with a fictitious curiosity. 

They passed out of the Gled valley into the narrower strath of Avelin, and soon, leaving the meadows behind, went deep into the recesses ofwoods. At a narrow glen bridged by the road and bright with the sprayof cascades and the fresh green of ferns, Alice cried out in delight, "Oh, I must come back here some day and sketch it. What a Paradise of aplace!"

"Then you had better ask Lewie's permission. " And Lady Manorwaterlaughed. 

"Who is Lewie?" asked the girl, anticipating some gamekeeper orshepherd. 

"Lewie is my nephew. He lives at Etterick, up at the head of the glen. "

Miss Afflint spoke for the first time. "A very good man. You shouldknow Lewie, Miss Wishart. I'm sure you would like him. He is a greattraveller, you know, and has written a famous book. Lewis Haystoun ishis full name. "

"Why, I have read it, " cried Alice. "You mean the book about Kashmir. But I thought the author was an old man. "

"Lewie is not very old, " said his aunt; "but I haven't seen him foryears, so he may be decrepit by this time. He is coming home soon, hesays, but he never writes. I know two of his friends who pay a PrivateInquiry Office to send them news of him. "

Alice laughed and became silent. What merry haphazard people were theseshe had fallen among! At home everything was docketed and ordered. Meals were immovable feasts, the hour for bed and the hour for risingwere more regular than the sun's. Her father was full of proverbs onthe virtue of regularity, and was wont to attribute every vice andmisfortune to its absence. And yet here were men and women who got onvery well without it. She did not wholly like it. The littledoctrinaire in her revolted and she was pleased to be censorious. 

"You are a very learned young woman, aren't you?" said Lady Manorwater, after a short silence. "I have heard wonderful stories about yourlearning. Then I hope you will talk to Mr. Stocks, for I am afraid heis shocked at Bertha's frivolity. He asked her if she was in favour ofthe Prisons Regulation Bill, and she was very rude. "

"I only said, " broke in Miss Afflint, "that owing to my lack of definitelocal knowledge I was not in a position to give an answer commensuratewith the gravity of the subject. " She spoke in a perfect imitation ofthe tone of a pompous man. 

"Bertha, I do not approve of you, " said Lady Manorwater. "I forbid youto mimic Mr. Stocks. He is very clever, and very much in earnest overeverything. I don't wonder that a butterfly like you should laugh, butI hope Miss Wishart will be kind to him. "

"I am afraid I am very ignorant, " said Alice hastily, "and I am veryuseless. I never did any work of any sort in my life, and when I thinkof you I am ashamed. "

"Oh, my dear child, please don't think me a paragon, " cried her hostessin horror. "I am a creature of vague enthusiasms and I have the senseto know it. Sometimes I fancy I am a woman of business, and then I takeup half a dozen things till Jack has to interfere to prevent financialruin. I dabble in politics and I dabble in philanthropy; I write reviewarticles which nobody reads, and I make speeches which are a horror tomyself and a misery to my hearers. Only by the possession of a sense ofhumour am I saved from insignificance. "

To Alice the speech was the breaking of idols. Competence, responsibility were words she had been taught to revere, and to hearthem light-heartedly disavowed seemed an upturning of the foundation ofthings. You will perceive that her education had not included thatvaluable art, the appreciation of the flippant. 

By this time the carriage was entering the gates of the park, and thethick wood cleared and revealed long vistas of short hill grass, risingand falling like moorland, and studded with solitary clumps of firs. Then a turn in the drive brought them once more into shadow, this timebeneath a heath-clad knoll where beeches and hazels made a pleasanttangle. All this was new, not three years old; but soon they were inthe ancient part of the policy which had surrounded the old house ofGlenavelin. Here the grass was lusher, the trees antique oaks andbeeches, and grey walls showed the boundary of an old pleasure-ground. Here in the soft sunlit afternoon sleep hung like a cloud, and the peaceof centuries dwelt in the long avenues and golden pastures. Anotherturning and the house came in sight, at first glance a jumble of greytowers and ivied walls. Wings had been built to the original squarekeep, and even now it was not large, a mere moorland dwelling. But thewhitewashed walls, the crow-step gables, and the quaint Scots baronialturrets gave it a perfection to the eye like a house in a dream. ToAlice, accustomed to the vulgarity of suburban villas with Italiancampaniles, a florid lodge a stone's throw from the house, darkened toowith smoke and tawdry with paint, this old-world dwelling was a patch ofwonderland. Her eyes drank in the beauty of the place--the great bluebacks of hill beyond, the acres of sweet pasture, the primeval woods. 

"Is this Glenavelin?" she cried. "Oh, what a place to live in!"

"Yes, it's very pretty, dear. " And Lady Manorwater, who possessed half adozen houses up and down the land, patted her guest's arm and lookedwith pleasure on the flushed girlish face. 

Two hours later, Alice, having completed dressing, leaned out of herbedroom window to drink in the soft air of evening. She had not broughta maid, and had refused her hostess's offer to lend her her own on theground that maids were a superfluity. It was her desire to be a verypractical young person, a scorner of modes and trivialities, and yet shehad taken unusual care with her toilet this evening, and had spent manyminutes before the glass. Looking at herself carefully, a growingconviction began to be confirmed--that she was really rather pretty. She had reddish-brown hair and--a rare conjunction--dark eyes andeyebrows and a delicate colour. As a small girl she had lamentedbitterly the fate that bad not given her the orthodox beauty of the darkor fair maiden, and in her school days she had passed for plain. Now itbegan to dawn on her that she had beauty of a kind--the charm ofstrangeness; and her slim strong figure had the grace which a wholesomelife alone can give. She was in high spirits, curious, interested, andgenerous. The people amused her, the place was a fairyland and outsidethe golden weather lay still and fragrant among the hills. 

When she came down to the drawing-room she found the whole partyassembled. A tall man with a brown beard and a slight stoop ceased toassault the handle of a firescreen and came over to greet her. He hadonly come back half an hour ago, he explained, and so had missed herarrival. The face attracted and soothed her. Abundant kindness lurkedin the humorous brown eyes, and a queer pucker on the brow gave him theair of a benevolent despot. If this was Lord Manorwater, she had nofurther dread of the great ones of the earth. There were four othermen, two of them mild, spectacled people, who had the air of studentsand a precise affected mode of talk, and one a boy cousin of whom no onetook the slightest notice. The fourth was a striking figure, a man ofabout forty in appearance, tall and a little stout, with a rugged facewhich in some way suggested a picture of a prehistoric animal in an oldnatural history she had owned. The high cheek-bones, large nose, andslightly protruding eyes had an unfinished air about them, as if theirowner had escaped prematurely from a mould. A quantity of bushy blackhair--which he wore longer than most men-enhanced the dramatic air of hisappearance. It was a face full of vigour and a kind of strength, shrewd, a little coarse, and solemn almost to the farcical. He wasintroduced in a rush of words by the hostess, but beyond the fact thatit was a monosyllable, Alice did not catch his name. 

Lord Manorwater took in Miss Afflint, and Alice fell to the dark manwith the monosyllabic name. He had a way of bowing over his hand whichslightly repelled the girl, who had no taste for elaborate manners. Hisfirst question, too, displeased her. He asked her if she was one of theWisharts of some unpronounceable place. 

She replied briefly that she did not know. Her grandfathers on bothsides had been farmers. 

The gentleman bowed with the smiling unconcern of one to whom pedigreeis a matter of course. 

"I have heard often of your father, " he said. "He is one of the localsupports of the party to which I have the honour to belong. Herepresents one great section of our retainers, our host another. I amglad to see such friendship between the two. " And he smiled elaboratelyfrom Alice to Lord Manorwater. 

Alice was uncomfortable. She felt she must be sitting beside some verygreat man, and she was tortured by vain efforts to remember themonosyllable which had stood for his name. She did not like his voice, and, great man or not, she resented the obvious patronage. He spokewith a touch of the drawl which is currently supposed to belong only tothe half-educated classes of England. 

She turned to the boy who sat on the other side of her. The younggentleman--his name was Arthur and, apparently, nothing else--was onlytoo ready to talk. He proceeded to explain, compendiously, his doings ofthe past week, to which the girl listened politely. Then anxiety gotthe upper hand, and she asked in a whisper, _a propos_ of nothing inparticular, the name of her left-hand neighbour. 

"They call him Stocks, " said the boy, delighted at the tone ofconfidence, and was going on to sketch the character of the gentleman inquestion when Alice cut him short. 

"Will you take me to fish some day?" she asked. 

"Any day, " gasped the hilarious Arthur. "I'm ready, and I'll tell youwhat, I know the very burn--" and he babbled on happily till he saw thatMiss Wishart had ceased to listen. It was the first time a pretty girlhad shown herself desirous of his company, and he was intoxicated withthe thought. 

But Alice felt that she was in some way bound to make the most of Mr. Stocks, and she set herself heroically to the task. She had never heardof him, but then she was not well versed in the minutiae of thingspolitical, and he clearly was a politician. Doubtless to her father hisname was a household word. So she spoke to him of Glenavelin and itsbeauties. 

He asked her if she had seen Royston Castle, the residence of his friendthe Duke of Sanctamund. When he had stayed there he had been muchimpressed--

Then she spoke wildly of anything, of books and pictures andpeople and politics. She found him well-informed, clever, and dogmatic. The culminating point was reached when she embarked on a stray remarkconcerning certain events then happening in India. 

He contradicted her with a lofty politeness. 

She quoted a book on Kashmir. 

He laughed the authority to scorn. "Lewis Haystoun?" he asked. "Whatcan he know about such things? A wandering dilettante, the worst typeof the pseudo-culture of our universities. He must see all thingsthrough the spectacles of his upbringing. "

Fortunately he spoke in a low voice, but Lord Manorwater caught thename. 

"You are talking about Lewie, " he said; and then to the table at large, "do you know that Lewie is home? I saw him to-day. "

Bertha Afflint clapped her hands. "Oh, splendid! When is he comingover? I shall drive to Etterick to-morrow. No--bother! I can't goto-morrow, I shall go on Wednesday. "

Lady Manorwater opened mild eyes of surprise. "Why didn't the boywrite?" And the young Arthur indulged in sundry exclamations, "Oh, ripping, I say! What? A clinking good chap, my cousin Lewie!"

"Who is this Lewis the well-beloved?" said Mr. Stocks. "I was talkingabout a very different person--Lewis Haystoun, the author of a foolishbook on Kashmir. "

"Don't you like it?" said Lord Manorwater, pleasantly. "Well, it's thesame man. He is my nephew, Lewie Haystoun. He lives at Etterick, fourmiles up the glen. You will see him over here to-morrow or the dayafter. "

Mr. Stocks coughed loudly to cover his discomfiture. Alice could notrepress a little smile of triumph, but she was forbearing and for therest of dinner exerted herself to appease her adversary, listening tohis talk with an air of deference which he found entrancing. 

Meanwhile it was plain that Lord Manorwater was not quite at ease withhis company. Usually a man of brusque and hearty address, he showed hisdiscomfort by an air of laborious politeness. He was patronized for abrief minute by Mr. Stocks, who set him right on some matter ofagricultural reform. Happening to be a specialist on the subject and anenthusiastic farmer from his earliest days, he took the rebuke withproper meekness. The spectacled people were talking earnestly with hiswife. Arthur was absorbed in his dinner and furtive glances at hisleft-hand neighbour. There remained Bertha Afflint, whom he hadhitherto admired with fear. To talk with her was exhausting to frailmortality, and he had avoided the pleasure except in moments ofboisterous bodily and mental health. Now she was his one resource, andthe unfortunate man, rashly entering into a contest of wit, foundhimself badly worsted by her ready tongue. He declared that she wasworse than her mother, at which the unabashed young woman replied thatthe superiority of parents was the last retort of the vanquished. Heregistered an inward vow that Miss Afflint should be used on the morrowas a weapon to quell Mr. Stocks. 

When Alice escaped to the drawing-room she found Bertha and her sister--ayounger and ruddier copy--busy with the letters which had arrived by theevening post. Lady Manorwater, who reserved her correspondence for thelate hours, seized upon the girl and carried her off to sit by the greatFrench windows from which lawn and park sloped down to the moorlandloch. She chattered pleasantly about many things, and then innocentlyand abruptly asked her if she had not found her companion at tableamusing. 

Alice, unaccustomed to fiction, gave a hesitating "Yes, " at which herhostess looked pleased. "He is very clever, you know, " she said, "andhas been very useful to me on many occasions. "

Alice asked his occupation. 

"Oh, he has done many things. He has been very brave and quite themaker of his own fortunes. He educated himself, and then I think heedited some Nonconformist paper. Then he went into politics, and becamea Churchman. Some old man took a liking to him and left him his money, and that was the condition. So I believe he is pretty well off now andis waiting for a seat. He has been nursing this constituency, and sincethe election comes off in a month or two, we asked him down here tostay. He has also written a lot of things and he is somebody's privatesecretary. " And Lady Manorwater relapsed into vagueness. 

The girl listened without special interest, save that she modified herverdict on Mr. Stocks, and allowed, some degree of respect for him tofind place in her heart. The fighter in life always appealed to her, whatever the result of his struggle. 

Then Lady Manorwater proceeded to hymn his excellences in anindeterminate, artificial manner, till the men came into the room, andconversation became general. Lord Manorwater made his way to Alice, thereby defeating Mr. Stocks, who tended in the same direction. "Comeoutside and see things, Miss Wishart, " he said. "It's a shame to miss aGlenavelin evening if it's fine. We must appreciate our rarities. "

And Alice gladly followed him into the still air of dusk which made hilland tree seem incredibly distant and the far waters of the lake mergewith the moorland in one shimmering golden haze. In the rhododendronthickets sparse blooms still remained, and all along by the stream-sidestood stately lines of yellow iris above the white water-ranunculus. The girl was sensitive to moods of season and weather, and she hadalmost laughed at the incongruity of the two of them in modern clothesin this fit setting for an old tale. Dickon of Glenavelin, the swornfoe of the Lord of Etterick, on such nights as this had ridden up thewater with his bands to affront the quiet moonlight. And now hisdescendant was pointing out dim shapes in the park which he said wereprize cattle. 

"Whew! what a weariness is civilization!" said the man, with comicaleyes. "We have been making talk with difficulty all the evening whichserves no purpose in the world. Upon my word, my kyloes have the bestof the bargain. And in a month or so there will be the election and Ishall have to go and rave--there is no other word for it, MissWishart--rave on behalf of some fool or other, and talk Radicalism whichwould make your friend Dickon turn in his grave, and be in earnest forweeks when I know in the bottom of my heart that I am a humbug and carefor none of these things. How lightly politics and such matters sit onus all!"

"But you know you are talking nonsense, " said the serious Alice. "Afterall, these things are the most important, for they mean duty and courageand--and--all that sort of thing. "

"Right, little woman, " said he, smiling; "that is what Stocks tells metwice a day, but, somehow, reproof comes better from you. Dear me!it's a sad thing that a middle-aged legislator should be reproved by avery little girl. Come and see the herons. The young birds will beeverywhere just now. "

For an hour in the moonlight they went a-sightseeing, and came back verycool and fresh to the open drawing-room window. As they approached theycaught an echo of a loud, bland voice saying, "We must remember ourmoral responsibilities, my dear Lady Manorwater. Now, for instance--"

And a strange thing happened. For the first time in her life Miss AliceWishart felt that the use of loud and solemn words could jar upon herfeelings. She set it down resignedly to the evil influence of hercompanion. 

In the calm of her bedroom Alice reviewed her recent hours. Sheadmitted to herself that she would enjoy her visit. A healthy andactive young woman, the mere prospect of an open-air life gave herpleasure. Also she liked the people. Mentally she epitomized each ofthe inmates of the house. Lady Manorwater was all she had picturedher--a dear, whimsical, untidy creature, with odd shreds of clevernessand a heart of gold. She liked the boy Arthur, and the spectacledpeople seemed harmless. Bertha she was prepared to adore, for behindthe languor and wit she saw a very kindly and capable young womanfashioned after her own heart. But of all she liked Lord Manorwaterbest. She knew that he had a great reputation, that he was said to beincessantly laborious, and she had expected some one of her father'stype, prim, angular, and elderly. Instead she found a boyish personwhom she could scold, and with women reproof is the first stone in thefoundation of friendship. On Mr. Stocks she generously reserved herjudgment, fearing the fate of the hasty. 

CHAPTER III

UPLAND WATERS

When Alice woke next morning the cool upland air was flooding throughthe window, and a great dazzle of sunlight made the world glorious. Shedressed and ran out to the lawn, then past the loch right to the veryedge of the waste country. A high fragrance of heath and bog-myrtle wasin the wind, and the mouth grew cool as after long draughts of springwater. Mists were crowding in the valleys, each bald mountain top shonelike a jewel, and far aloft in the heavens were the white streamers ofmorn. Moorhens were plashing at the loch's edge, and one tall heronrose from his early meal. The world was astir with life: sounds of the_plonk-plonk_ of rising trout and the endless twitter of woodland birdsmingled with the far-away barking of dogs and the lowing of thefull-uddered cows in the distant meadows. Abashed and enchanted, thegirl listened. It was an elfin land where the old witch voices of hilland river were not silenced. With the wind in her hair she climbed theslope again to the garden ground, where she found a solemn-eyed colliesniffing the fragrant wind in his morning stroll. 

Breakfast over, the forenoon hung heavy on her hands. It was LadyManorwater's custom to let her guests sit idle in the morning and followtheir own desire, but in the afternoon she would plan subtle andfar-reaching schemes of enjoyment. It was a common saying that in herlarge good-nature she amused people regardless of their own expense. She would light-heartedly make town-bred folk walk twenty miles or bearthe toil of infinite drives. But this was after lunch; before, herguests might do as they pleased. Lord Manorwater went off to see sometenant; Arthur, after vain efforts to decoy Alice into a fishingexpedition, went down the stream in a canoe, because to his fool's headit seemed the riskiest means of passing the time at his disposal; Berthaand her sister were writing letters; the spectacled people had settledthemselves below shady trees with voluminous papers and a pile of books. Alice alone was idle. She made futile expeditions to the library, andreturned with an armful of volumes which she knew in her heart she wouldnever open. She found the deepest and most comfortable chair and placedit in a shady place among beeches. But she could not stay there, andmust needs wander restlessly about the gardens, plucking flowers andlistlessly watching the gardeners at their work. 

Lunch-time found this young woman in a slightly irritable frame of mind. The cause direct and indirect was Mr. Stocks, who had found her alone, and had saddled her with his company for the space of an hour and ahalf. His vein had been _badinage_ of the serious and reproving kind, andthe girl had been bored to distraction. But a misspent hour is soonforgotten, and the sight of her hostess's cheery face would haverestored her to good humour had it not been for a thought which couldnot be exorcised. She knew of Lady Manorwater's reputation as aninveterate matchmaker, and in some subtle way the suspicion came to herthat that goddess had marked herself as a quarry. She found herselfnext Mr. Stocks at meals, she had already listened to his eulogy fromher hostess's own lips, and to her unquiet fancy it seemed as if theothers stood back that they two might be together. Brought up in anatmosphere of commerce, she was perfectly aware that she was a desirablematch for an embryo politician, and that sooner or later she would bemistress of many thousands. The thought was a barbed vexation. To Mr. Stocks she had been prepared to extend the tolerance of a happyaloofness; now she found that she was driven to dislike him with all thebitterness of unwelcome proximity. 

The result of such thoughts was that after lunch she disregarded herhostess's preparations and set out for a long hill walk. Like allperfectly healthy people, much exercise was as welcome to her as foodand sleep; ten miles were refreshing; fifteen miles in an afternoon anexaltation. She reached the moor beyond the policies, and, once pastthis rushy wilderness, came to the Avelin-side and a single plank bridgewhich she crossed lightly without a tremor. Then came the highway, andthen a long planting of firs, and last of all the dip of a rushingstream pouring down from the hills in a lonely wooded hollow. The girlloved to explore, and here was a field ripe for adventure. 

Soon she grew flushed with the toil and the excitement; climbing the bedof the stream was no child's play, for ugly corners had to be passed, slippery rocks to be skirted, and many breakneck leaps to be effected. Her spirits rose as the spray from little falls brushed her face and thethick screen of the birches caught in her hair. When she reached avantage-rock and looked down on the chain of pools and rapids by whichshe had come, a cry of delight broke from her lips. This was living, this was the zest of life! The upland wind cooled her brow; she washedher hands in a rocky pool and arranged her tangled tresses. What didshe care for Mr. Stocks or any man? He was far down on the lowlandstalking his pompous nonsense; she was on the hills with the sky aboveher and the breeze of heaven around her, free, sovereign, the queen ofan airy land. 

With fresh wonder she scrambled on till the trees began to grow sparserand an upland valley opened in view. Now the burn was quiet, running inlong shining shallows and falling over little rocks into deep brownpools where the trout darted. On either side rose the gates of thevalley--two craggy knolls each with a few trees on its face. Beyond wasa green lawnlike place with a great confusion of blue mountains hemmedaround its head. Here, if anywhere, primeval peace had found itsdwelling, and Alice, her eyes bright with pleasure, sat on a greenknoll, too rapt with the sight for word or movement. 

Then very slowly, like an epicure lingering at a feast, she walked upthe banks of the burn, now high above a trough of rock, now down in agreen winding hollow. Suddenly she came on the spirits of the place inthe shape of two boys down on their faces groping among the stones of apool. 

One was very small and tattered, one about sixteen; both were barefootand both were wet and excited. "Tam, ye stot, ye've let the muckle yinaff again, " groaned the smaller. "Oh, be canny, man! If we grip himit'll be the biggest trout that the laird will have in his basket, " Theelder boy, who was bearing the heat and burden of the work, could onlygroan "Heather!" at intervals. It seemed to be his one exclamation. 

Now it happened that the two ragamuffins lifted their eyes and saw totheir amazement a girl walking on the bank above them, a girl who smiledcomrade-like on them and seemed in no way surprised. They proppedthemselves on their elbows and stared. "Heather!" they ejaculated inone breath. Then they, too, grinned broadly, for it was impossible toresist so good-humoured an intruder. She held her head high and walkedlike a queen, till a turn of the water hid her. "It's a wumman, " gaspedthe smaller boy. "And she's terrible bonny, " commented the morecritical brother. Then the two fell again to the quest of the greattrout. 

Meanwhile the girl pursued her way till she came to a fall where thebank needed warier climbing. As she reached the top a little flushedand panting, she became conscious that the upland valley was not withoutinhabitants. For, not six paces off, stood a man's figure, his backturned towards her, and his mind apparently set on mending a piece oftackle. 

She stood for a moment hesitating. How could she pass without beingseen? The man was blissfully unconscious of her presence, and as heworked he whistled Schubert's "Wohin, " and whistled it very badly. Thenhe fell to apostrophizing his tackle, and then he grew irritable. "Somebody come and keep this thing taut, " he cried. "Tam, Jock! whereon earth are you?"

The thing in question was lying at Alice's feet in wavy coils. 

"Jock, you fool, where are you?" cried the man, but he never lookedround and went on biting and tying. Then an impulse took the girl andshe picked up the line. "That's right, " cried the man, "pull it astight as you can, " and Alice tugged heroically at the waterproof silk. She felt horribly nervous, and was conscious that she must look a veryflushed and untidy young barbarian. Many times she wanted to drop itand run away, but the thought of the menaces against the absent Jock andof her swift discovery deterred her. When he was done with her help hemight go on working and never look round. Then she would escapeunnoticed down the burn. 

But no such luck befell her. With a satisfied tug he pronounced thething finished and wheeled round to regard his associates. "Now, youyoung wretches--" and the words froze on his lips, for in the place oftwo tatterdemalion boys he saw a young girl holding his line limply andsmiling with much nervousness. 

"Oh, " he cried, and then became dumb and confused. He was shy andunhappy with women, save the few whom he had known from childhood. Thegirl was no better. She had blushed deeply, and was now minutelyscanning the stones in the burn. Then she raised her eyes, met his, andthe difficulty was solved by both falling into fits of deep laughter. She was the first to speak. 

"I am so sorry I surprised you. I did not see you till I was close toyou, and then you were abusing somebody so terribly that to stop suchlanguage I had to stop and help you. I saw Tam and Jock at a pool along way down, so they couldn't hear you, you know. "

"And I'm very much obliged to you. You held it far better than Tam orJock would have done. But how did you get up here?"

"I climbed up the burn, " said Alice simply, putting up a hand to confinea wandering tress. The young man saw a small, very simply dressed girl, with a flushed face and bright, deep eyes. The small white hat crowneda great tangle of wonderful reddish gold hair. She held herself withthe grace which is born of natural health and no modish training; thestrong hazel stick, the scratched shoes, and the wet fringes of her gownshowed how she had spent the afternoon. The young man, having receivedan excellent education, thought of Dryads and Oreads. 

Alice for her part saw a strong, well-knit being, with a brown, clean-shaven face, a straight nose, and a delicate, humorous mouth. Hehad large grey eyes, very keen, quizzical, and kindly. His raiment wasdisgraceful--an old knickerbocker suit with a ruinous Norfolk jacket, patched at the elbows and with leather at wrist and shoulder. Apparently he scorned the June sun, for he had no cap. His pocketsseemed bursting with tackle, and a discarded basket lay on the ground. The whole figure pleased her, its rude health, simplicity, and disorder. The atrocious men who sometimes came to her father's house had beenmiracles of neatness, and Mr. Stocks was wont to robe his person in themost faultless of shooting suits. 

A fugitive memory began to haunt the girl. She had met or heard of thisman before. The valley was divided between Glenavelin and Etterick. Hewas not the Doctor, and he was not the minister. Might not he be thatLewie, the well-beloved, whose praises she had heard consistently sungsince her arrival? It pleased her to think that she had been the firstto meet the redoubtable young man. 

To them there entered the two boys, the younger dangling a fish. "It isthe big trout ye lost, " he cried. "We guddled 'um. We wad has gotten'um afore, but a wumman frichted 'um. " Then turning unabashed to Alice, he said in accusing tones, "That's the wumman!"

The elder boy gently but firmly performed on his brother the operationknown as "scragging. " It was a subdued spirit which emerged from thefraternal embrace. 

"Pit the fush in the basket, Tam, " said he, "and syne gang away wide upthe hill till I cry ye back. " The tones implied that his younger brotherwas no fit company for two gentlemen and a lady. 

"I won't spoil your fishing, " said Alice, fearing fratricidal strife. "You are fishing up, so I had better go down the burn again. " And with adignified nod to the others she turned to go. 

Jock sprang forward with a bound and proceeded to stone the small Tarnup the hill. He coursed that young gentleman like a dog, bidding him"come near, " or "gang wide, " or "lie down there, " to all of which theculprit, taking the sport in proper spirit, gaily responded. 

"I think you had better not go down the burn, " said the manreflectively. "You should keep the dry hillside. It is safer. "

"Oh, I am not afraid, " said the girl, laughing. 

"But then I might want to fish down, and the trout are very shy there, "said he, lying generously. 

"Well, I won't then, but please tell me where Glenavelin is, for thestream-side is my only direction. "

"You are staying there?" he asked with a pleased face. "We shall meetagain, for I shall be over to-morrow. That fence on the hillside istheir march, and if you follow it you will come to the footbridge on theAvelin. Many thanks for taking Jock's place and helping me. "

He watched her for a second as she lightly jumped the burn and climbedthe peaty slope. Then he turned to his fishing, and when Alice lookedback from the vantage-ground of the hill shoulder she saw a figurebending intently below a great pool. She was no coquette, but she couldnot repress a tinge of irritation at so callous and self-absorbed ayoung man. Another would have been profuse in thanks and would haveaccompanied her to point out the road, or in some way or other wouldhave declared his appreciation of her presence. He might have told, herhis name, and then there would have been a pleasant informalintroduction, and they could have talked freely. If he came toGlenavelin to-morrow, she would have liked to appear as already anacquaintance of so popular a guest. 

But such thoughts did not long hold their place. She was an honestyoung woman, and she readily confessed that fluent manners and the airof the _cavaliere servente_ were things she did not love. Carelessnesssuited well with a frayed jacket and the companionship of a hill burnand two ragged boys. So, comforting her pride with proverbs, shereturned to Glenavelin to find the place deserted save for dogs, and intheir cheering presence read idly till dinner. 

CHAPTER IV

AFTERNOON IN A GARDEN

The gardens of Glenavelin have an air of antiquity beyond the dwelling, for there the modish fashions of another century have been followed withenthusiasm. There are clipped yews and long arched avenues, bowers andsummer-houses of rustic make, and a terraced lawn fringed with aGeorgian parapet. A former lord had kept peacocks innumerable, andsomething of the tradition still survived. Set in the heart of hillymoorlands, it was like a cameo gem in a tartan plaid, a piece of oldVauxhall or Ranelagh in an upland vale. Of an afternoon sleep reignedsupreme. The shapely immobile trees, the grey and crumbling stone, thelone green walks vanishing into a bosky darkness were instinct with thequiet of ages. It needed but Lady Prue with her flounces and furbelowsand Sir Pertinax with his cane and buckled shoon to re-create theancient world before good Queen Anne had gone to her rest. 

In one of the shadiest corners of a great lawn Lady Manorwater satmaking tea. Bertha, with a broad hat shading her eyes, dozed over amagazine in a deck-chair. That morning she and Alice had broken theconvention of the house and gone riding in the haughlands till lunch. Now she suffered the penalty and dozed, but her companion was very wideawake, being a tireless creature who knew not lethargy. Besides, therewas sufficient in prospect to stir her curiosity. Lady Manorwater hadannounced some twenty times that day that her nephew Lewis would come totea, and Alice, knowing the truth of the prophecy, was prepared toreceive him. 

The image of the forsaken angler remained clear in her memory, and sheconfessed to herself that he interested her. The girl had noconnoisseur's eye for character; her interest was the frank andunabashed interest in a somewhat mysterious figure who was credited byall his friends with great gifts and a surprising amiability. Afterbreakfast she had captured one of the spectacled people, whose name wasHoddam. He was a little shy man, one of the unassuming tribe ofstudents by whom all the minor intellectual work of the world is done, and done well. It is a great class, living in the main in red-brickvillas on the outskirts of academic towns, marrying mild blue-stockings, working incessantly, and finally attaining to the fame of mention inprefaces and foot-notes, and a short paragraph in the _Times_ at thelast. . . . Mr. Hoddam did not seek the company of one who was young, pretty, an heiress, and presumably flippant, but he was flattered whenshe plainly sought him. 

"Mr. Lewis Haystoun is coming here this afternoon, " she had announced. "Do you know him?"

"I have read his book, " said her victim. 

"Yes, but did you not know him at Oxford? You were there with him, wereyou not?"

"Yes, we were there together. I knew him by sight, of course, for hewas a very well-known person. But, you see, we belonged to verydifferent sets. "

"How do you mean?" asked the blunt Alice. 

"Well, you see, " began Mr. Hoddam awkwardly--absolute honesty was oneof his characteristics--"he was very well off, and he lived with asporting set, and he was very exclusive. "

"But I thought he was clever--I thought he was rather brilliant?"

"Oh, he was! Indubitably! He got everything he wanted, but then he gotthem easily and had a lot of time for other things, whereas most of ushad not a moment to spare. He got the best First of his year and theSt. Chad's Fellowship, but I think he cared far more about winning the'Varsity Grind. Men who knew him said he was an extremely good fellow, but he had scores of rich sporting friends, and nobody else ever got toknow him. I have heard him speak often, and his manner gave one theimpression that he was a tremendous swell, you know, and ratherconceited. People used to think him a sort of universal genius whocould do everything. I suppose he was quite the ablest man that hadbeen there for years, but I should think he would succeed ultimately asthe man of action and not as the scholar. "

"You give him a most unlovely character, " said the girl. 

"I don't mean to. I own to being entirely fascinated by him. But hewas never, I think, really popular. He was supposed to be intolerant ofmediocrity; and also he used to offend quite honest, simple-mindedpeople by treating their beliefs very cavalierly. I used to compare himwith Raleigh or Henri IV. --the proud, confident man of action. "

Alice had pondered over Mr. Hoddam's confessions and was prepared toreceive the visitor with coldness. The vigorous little democrat in herhated arrogance. Before, if she had asked herself what type on earthshe hated most, she would have decided for the unscrupulous, proud man. And yet this Lewis must be lovable. That brown face had infiniteattractiveness, and she trusted Lady Manorwater's acuteness and goodnessof heart. 

Lord Manorwater had gone off on some matter of business and taken theyounger Miss Afflint with him. As Alice looked round the littleassembly on the lawn, she felt for the first time the insignificance ofthe men. The large Mr. Stocks was not at his best in suchsurroundings. He was the typical townsman, and bore with him whereverhe went an atmosphere of urban dust and worry. He hungered forostentation, he could only talk well when he felt that he impressed hishearers; Bertha, who was not easily impressed, he shunned like a plague. The man, reflected the censorious Alice, had no shades or half-tones inhis character; he was all bald, strong, and crude. Now he was talkingto his hostess with the grace of the wise man unbending. 

"I shall be pleased indeed to meet your nephew, " he said. "I feel surethat we have many interests in common. Do you say he lives near?"

Lady Manorwater, ever garrulous on family matters, readily enlightenedhim. "Etterick is his, and really all the land round here. We simplylive on a patch in the middle of it. The shooting is splendid, andLewie is a very keen sportsman. His mother was my husband's sister, anddied when he was born. He is wonderfully unspoiled to have had such alonely boyhood. "

"How did the family get the land?" he asked. It was a matter whichinterested him, for democratic politician though he was, he lookedalways forward to the day when he should own a pleasant countryproperty, and forget the troubles of life in the Nirvana of therespectable. 

"Oh, they've had it for ages. They are a very old family, you know, andlook down upon us as parvenus. They have been everything in theirday--soldiers, statesmen, lawyers; and when we were decent merchants inAbbeykirk three centuries ago, they were busy making history. When yougo to Etterick you must see the pictures. There is a fine one byJameson of the Haystoun who fought with Montrose, and Raeburn paintedmost of the Haystouns of his time. They were a very handsome race, atleast the men; the women were too florid and buxom for my taste. "

"And this Lewis--is he the only one of the family?"

"The very last, and of course he does his best to make away with himselfby risking his precious life in Hindu Kush or Tibet or somewhere. " Herladyship was geographically vague. 

"What a pity he does not realize his responsibilities!" said thepolitician. "He might do so much. "

But at the moment it dawned upon the speaker that the skirker ofresponsibilities was appearing in person. There strode towards them, across the lawn, a young man and two dogs. 

"How do you do, Aunt Egeria?" he cried, and he caught her small woman'shand in a hard brown one and smiled on the little lady. 

Bertha Afflint had flung her magazine to the winds and caught hisavailable left hand. "Oh, Lewie, you wretch! how glad we are to seeyou again. " Meantime the dogs performed a solemn minuet around herladyship's knees. 

The young man, when he had escaped from the embraces of his friends, turned to the others. He seemed to recognize two of them, for he shookhands cordially with the two spectacled people. "Hullo, Hoddam, how areyou? And Imrie! Who would have thought of finding you here?" And hepoured forth a string of kind questions till the two beamed withpleasure. 

Then Alice heard dimly words of introduction: "Miss Wishart, Mr. Haystoun, " and felt herself bowing automatically. She actually feltnervous. The disreputable fisher of the day before was in ordinaryriding garments of fair respectability. He recognized her at once, buthe, too, seemed to lose for a moment his flow of greetings. His toneinsensibly changed to a conventional politeness, and he asked her someof the stereotyped questions with which one greets a stranger. She feltsharply that she was a stranger to whom the courteous young man assumedmore elaborate manners. The freedom of the day before seemed gone. Sheconsoled herself with the thought that whereas then she had been warm, flushed, and untidy, she was now very cool and elegant in her prettiestfrock. 

Then Mr. Stocks arose and explained that he was delighted to meet Mr. Lewis Haystoun, that he knew of his reputation, and hoped to have somepleasant talk on matters dear to the heart of both. At which Lewisshunned the vacant seat between Bertha and that gentleman, and stretchedhimself on the lawn beside Alice's chair. A thrill of pleasure enteredthe girl's heart, to her own genuine surprise. 

"Are Tam and Jock at peace now?" she asked. "Tam and Jock are never atpeace. Jock is sedate and grave and old for his years, while Tam issimply a human collie. He has the same endearing manners andirresponsible mind. I had to fish him out of several rock-pools afteryou left. "

Alice laughed, and Lady Manorwater said in wonder, "I didn't know youhad met Lewie before, Alice. "

"Miss Wishart and I forgathered accidentally at the Midburn yesterday, "said the man. 

"Oh, you went there, " cried the aggrieved Arthur, "and you never toldme! Why, it is the best water about here, and yesterday was afirst-rate day. What did you catch, Lewie?"

"Twelve pounds-about four dozen trout. "

"Listen to that! And to think that that great hulking chap got all thesport!" And the boy intercepted his cousin's tea by way of retaliation. 

Then Mr. Stocks had his innings, with Lady Manorwater for company, andLewis was put through a strict examination on his doings for the pastyears. 

"What made you choose that outlandish place, my dear?" asked his aunt. 

"Oh, partly the chance of a shot at big game, partly a restless interestin frontier politics which now and then seizes me. But really it wasWratislaw's choice. "

"Do you know Wratislaw?" asked Mr. Stocks abruptly. 

"Tommy?--why, surely! My best of friends. He had got his fellowshipsome years before I went up, but I often saw him at Oxford, and he hashelped me innumerable times. " The young man spoke eagerly, prepared toextend warm friendship to any acquaintance of his friend's. 

"He and I have sometimes crossed swords, " said Mr. Stocks pompously. 

Lewis nodded, and forbore to ask which had come off the better. 

"He is, of course, very able, " said Mr. Stocks, making a generousadmission. 

His hearer wondered why he should be told of a man's ability when he hadspoken of him as his friend. 

"Have you heard much of him lately?" he asked. "We correspondedregularly when I was abroad, but of course he never would speak abouthimself, and I only saw him for a short time last week in London. "

The gentleman addressed waved a deprecating hand. 

"He has had no popular recognition. Such merits as he has are too aloofto touch the great popular heart. But we who believe in the people andwork for them have found him a bitter enemy. The idle, academic, superior person, whatever his gifts, is a serious hindrance to honestwork, " said the popular idol. 

"I shouldn't call him idle or superior, " said Lewis quietly. "I haveseen hard workers, but I have never seen anything like Tommy. He is aperfect mill-horse, wasting his fine talent on a dreary routine, merelybecause he is conscientious and nobody can do it so well. "

He always respected honesty, so he forbore to be irritated with thisassured speaker. 

But Alice interfered to prevent jarring. 

"I read your book, Mr. Haystoun. What a time you must have had! Yousay that north of Bardur or some place like that there are two hundredmiles of utterly unknown land till you come to Russian territory. Ishould have thought that land important. Why doesn't some one penetrateit?

"Well, for various causes. It is very high land and the climate is notmild. Also, there are abundant savage tribes with a particularlyeffective crooked kind of knife. And, finally, our Governmentdiscourages British enterprise there, and Russia would do the same assoon as she found out. "

"But what a chance for an adventurer!" said Alice, with a face aglow. 

Lewis looked up at the slim figure in the chair above him, and caughtthe gleam of dark eyes. 

"Well, some day, Miss Wishart--who knows?" he said slowly andcarelessly. 

But three people looked at him, Bertha, his aunt, and Mr. Stocks, andthree people saw the same thing. His face had closed up like a steeltrap. It was no longer the kindly, humorous face of the sportsman andgood fellow, but the keen, resolute face of the fighter, the schemer, the man of daring. The lines about his chin and brow seemed to tightenand strengthen and steel, while the grey eyes had for a moment a glintof fire. 

Three people never forgot that face. It was a pity that the lady at hisside was prevented from seeing it by her position, for otherwise lifemight have gone differently with both. But the things which we callchance are in the power of the Fateful Goddesses who reserve their rightto juggle with poor humanity. 

Alice only heard the words, but they pleased her. Mr. Stocks fellfarther into the background of disfavour. She had imagination and fireas well as common sense. It was the purple and fine gold which firstcaught her fancy, though on reflection she might decide for thehodden-grey. So she was very gracious to the young adventurer. AndArthur's brows grew dark as Erebus. 

Lewis rode home in the late afternoon to Etterick in a haze of goldenweather with an abstracted air and a slack bridle. A small, daintyfigure tripped through the mazes of his thoughts. This man, usuallyoblivious of woman's presence, now mooned like any schoolboy. Thosefresh young eyes and the glory of that hair! And to think that once hehad sworn by black!

CHAPTER V

A CONFERENCE OP THE POWERS

It was the sultriest of weather in London--days when the city lay in afog of heat, when the paving cracked, and the brow was damp from theslightest movement and the mind of the stranger was tortured by thethought of airy downs and running rivers. The leaves in the Green Parkwere withered and dusty, the window-boxes in Mayfair had a tarnishedlook, and horse and man moved with unwilling languor. A tall young manin a grey frockcoat searched the street for shadow, and finding noneentered the doorway of a club which promised coolness. 

Mr. George Winterham removed his top-hat, had a good wash, and thensought the smoking room. Seen to better advantage, he was sufficientlygood-looking, with an elegant if somewhat lanky frame, a cheerfulcountenance, and a great brown moustache which gave him the airmilitary. But he was no soldier, being indeed that anomalous creature, the titular barrister, who shows his profession by rarely entering thechambers and by an ignorance of law more profound than Necessity's. 

He found the shadiest corner of the smoking room and ordered the coolestdrink he could think of. Then he smiled, for he saw advancing to himacross the room another victim of the weather. This was a small, thinman, with a finely-shaped dark head and the most perfectly-fittingclothes. He had been deep in a review, but at the sight of the weariedgiant in the corner he had forgotten his interest in the "Entomology ofthe Riviera. " He looked something of the artist or the man of letters, but in truth he had no taint of Bohemianism about him, being a veryrespectable person and a rising politician. His name was ArthurMordaunt, but because it was the fashion at the time for a certain classof people to address each other in monosyllables, his friends invariablyknew him as "John. "

He dropped into a chair and regarded his companion with half-closedeyes. 

"Well, John. Dished, eh? Most infernal heat I ever endured! I can'tstand it, you know. I'll have to go away. "

"Think, " said the other, "think that at this moment somewhere in thecountry there are great, cool, deep woods and lakes and waterfalls, andwe might be sitting in flannels instead of being clothed in thesegarments of sin. "

"Think, " said George, "of nothing of the kind. Think of high uplandglens and full brown rivers, and hillsides where there is always wind. Why do I tantalize myself and talk to a vexatious idiot like you?"

This young man had a deep voice, a most emphatic manner of speech, and atrick of cheerfully abusing his friends which they rather liked thanotherwise. 

"And why should I sit opposite six feet of foolishness which can give meno comfort? Whew! But I think I am getting cool at last. I have swornto make use of my first half-hour of reasonable temperature andconsequent clearness of mind to plan flight from this place. "

"May I come with you, my pretty maid? I am hideously sick of July intown. I know Mabel will never forgive me, but I must risk it. "

Mabel was the young man's sister, and the friendship between the two wasa perpetual joke. As a small girl she had been wont to con eagerly herbrother's cricketing achievements, for George had been a famouscricketer, and annually went crazy with excitement at the Eton andHarrow match. She exercised a maternal care over him, and he stood inwholesome fear of her and ordered his doings more or less at herjudgment. Now she was married, but she still supervised her tallbrother, and the victim made no secret of the yoke. 

Suddenly Arthur jumped to his feet. "I say, what about Lewis Haystoun?He is home now, somewhere in Scotland. Have you heard a word abouthim?"

"He has never written, " groaned George, but he took out a pocket-bookand shook therefrom certain newspaper cuttings. "The people I employsent me these about him to-day. " And he laid them out on his knee. 

The first of them was long, and consisted of a belated review of Mr. Haystoun's book. George, who never read such things, handed it toArthur, who glanced over the lines and returned it. The secondexplained in correct journalese that the Manorwater family had returnedto Glenavelin for the summer and autumn, and that Mr. Lewis Haystounwas expected at Etterick shortly. The third recorded the opening of abazaar in the town of Gledsmuir which Mr. Haystoun had patronised, "looking, " said the fatuous cutting, "very brown and distinguished afterhis experiences in the East. "--"Whew!" said George. "Poor beggar, tohave such stuff written about him!"--The fourth discussed the possibleretirement of Sir Robert Merkland, the member for Gledsmuir, and hispossible successor. Mr. Haystoun's name was mentioned, "thoughindeed, " said the wiseacre, "that gentleman has never shown any decidedleanings to practical politics. We understand that the seat will becontested in the Radical interest by Mr. Albert Stocks, the well-knownwriter and lecturer. "

"You know everybody, John. Who's the fellow?" George asked. 

"Oh, a very able man indeed, one of the best speakers we have. I shouldlike to see a fight between him and Lewie: they would not get on witheach other. This Stocks is a sort of living embodiment of the irritableRadical conscience, a very good thing in its way, but not quite inLewie's style. "

The fifth cutting mentioned the presence of Mr. Haystoun at threegarden-parties, and hinted the possibility of a mistress soon to be atEtterick. 

George lay back in his chair gasping. "I never thought it would come tothis. I always thought Lewie the least impressionable of men. I wonderwhat sort of woman he has fallen in love with. But it may not be true. "

"We'll pray that it isn't true. But I was never quite sure of him. Youknow there was always an odd romantic strain in the man. The ordinarysmart, pretty girl, who adorns the end of a dinner-table and makes anadmirable mistress of a house, he would never think twice about. Butfor all his sanity Lewie has many cranks, and a woman might get him onthat side. "

"Don't talk of it. I can picture the horrid reality. He will marrysome thin-lipped creature who will back him in all his madness, and hisfriends will have to bid him a reluctant farewell. Or, worse still, there are scores of gushing, sentimental girls who might capture him. Iwish old Wratislaw were here to ask him what he thinks, for he knowsLewie better than any of us. Is he a member here?"

"Oh yes, he is a member, but I don't think he comes much. You peopleare too frivolous for him. "

"Well, that is all the good done by subscribing to a news-cutting agencyfor news of one's friends. I feel as low as ditch water. There is thatidiot who goes off to the ends of the earth for three years, and when hecomes back his friends get no good of him for the confounded women. "George echoed the ancient complaint which is doubtless old as David andJonathan. 

Then these two desolated young men, in view of their friend's defection, were full of sad memories, much as relations after a funeral hymn theacts of the deceased. 

George lit a cigar and smoked it savagely. "So that is the end ofLewis! And to think I knew the fool at school and college and couldn'tmake a better job of him than this! Do you remember, John, how we usedto call him 'Vaulting Ambition, ' because he won the high jump and was acocky beggar in general?"

"And do you remember when he got his First, and they wanted him to standfor a fellowship, but he was keen to get out of England and travel? Doyou remember that last night at Heston, when he told us all he was goingto do, and took a bet with Wratislaw about it?"

It is probable that this sad elegy would have continued for hours, hadnot a servant approached with letters, which he distributed, two toArthur Mordaunt and one to Mr. Winterham. A close observer might haveseen that two of the envelopes were identical. Arthur slipped one intohis pocket, but tore open the other and read. 

"It's from Lewie, " he cried. "He wants me down there next week atEtterick. He says he is all alone and crazy to see old friends again. "

"Mine's the same!" said George, after puzzling out Mr. Haystoun's by nomeans legible writing. "I say, John, of course we'll go. It's the verychance we were wishing for. "

Then he added with a cheerful face, "I begin to think better of humannature. Here were we abusing the poor man as a defaulter, and tenminutes after he heaps coals of fire on our heads. There can't be muchtruth in what that newspaper says, or he wouldn't want his friends downto spoil sport. "

"I wonder what he'll be like? Wratislaw saw him in town, but only for alittle, and he notices nothing. He's rather famous now, you know, andwe may expect to find him very dignified and wise. He'll be able toteach us most things, and we'll have to listen with proper humility. "

"I'll give you fifty to one he's nothing of the kind, " said George. "Hehas his faults like us all, but they don't run in that line. No, no, Lewie will be modest enough. He may have the pride of Lucifer at heart, but he would never show it. His fault is just this infernal modesty, which makes him shirk fighting some blatant ass or publishing his meritsto the world. "

Arthur looked curiously at his companion. Mr. Winterham was loved ofhis friends as the best of good fellows, but to the staid and risingpolitician he was not a person for serious talk. Hence, when he foundhim saying very plainly what had for long been a suspicion of his own, he was willing to credit him with a new acuteness. 

"You know I've always backed Lewie to romp home some day, " went on theyoung man. "He has got it in him to do most things, if he doesn't jiband bolt altogether. "

"I don't see why you should talk of your friends as if they wereracehorses or prize dogs. "

"Well, there's a lot of truth in the metaphor. You know yourself what amess of it he might make. Say some good woman got hold of him--somegood woman, for we will put aside the horrible suggestion of theadventuress. I suppose he'd be what you call a 'good husband. ' He wouldbecome a magistrate and a patron of local agricultural societies andflower shows. And eveybody would talk about him as a great success inlife; but we--you and I and Tommy--who know him better, would feel thatit was all a ghastly failure. "

Mr. Lewis Haystoun's character erred in its simplicity, for it was atthe mercy of every friend for comment. 

"What makes you dread the women so?" asked Arthur with a smile. 

"I don't dread 'em. They are all that's good, and a great deal betterthan most men. But then, you know, if you get a man really first-classhe's so much better than all but the very best women that you've got tolook after him. To ordinary beggars like myself it doesn't matter astraw, but I won't have Lewie throwing himself away. "

"Then is the ancient race of the Haystouns to disappear from the earth?"

"Oh, there are women fit for him, sure enough, but you won't find themat every garden party. Why, to find the proper woman would be themaking of the man, and I should never have another doubt about him. ButI am afraid. He's a deal too kindly and good-natured, and he'd marry agirl to-morrow merely to please her. And then some day quite casuallyhe would come across the woman who was meant by Providence for him, andthere would be the devil to pay and the ruin of one good man. I don'tmean that he'd make a fool of himself or anything of that sort, for he'snot a cad; but in the middle of his pleasant domesticity he would get aglimpse of what he might have been, and those glimpses are notforgotten. "

"Why, George, you are getting dithyrambic, " said Arthur, still smiling, but with a new vague respect in his heart. 

"For you cannot harness the wind or tie--tie the bonds of the wild ass, "said George, with an air of quotation. "At any rate, we're going tolook after him. He is a good chap and I've got to see him through. "

For Mr. Winterham, who was very much like other men, whose language wasfree, and who respected few things indeed in the world, had unfailingtenderness for two beings-his sister and his friend. 

The two young men rose, yawned, and strolled out into the hall. Theyscanned carelessly the telegram boards. Arthur pointed a finger to amessage typed in a corner. 

"That will make a good deal of difference to Wratislaw. "

George read: "The death is announced, at his residence in Hampshire, ofEarl Beauregard. His lordship had reached the age of eighty-five, andhad been long in weak health. He is succeeded by his son the Right Hon. Lord Malham, the present Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. "

"It means that if Wratislaw's party get back with a majority afterAugust, and if Wratislaw gets the under-secretaryship as most peopleexpect, then, with his chief in the Lords, he will be rather animportant figure in the Commons. "

"And I suppose his work will be pretty lively, " said George. He hadbeen reading some of the other telegrams, which were, as a rule, hysterical messages by way of foreign capitals, telling of Russianpreparations in the East. 

"Oh, lively, yes. But I've confidence in Tommy. I wish the Fate whichdecides men's politics had sent him to our side. He knows more aboutthe thing than any one else, and he knows his own mind, which is rareenough. But it's too hot for serious talk. I suppose my seat is safeenough in August, but I don't relish the prospect of a three weeks'fight. Wratislaw, lucky man, will not be opposed. I suppose he'll comeup and help Lewis to make hay of Stock's chances. It's a confoundedshame. I shall go and talk for him. "

On the steps of the club both men halted, and looked up and down thesultry white street. The bills of the evening papers were plastered ina row on the pavement, and the glaring pink and green still furtherincreased the dazzle. After the cool darkness within each shaded hiseyes and blinked. 

"This settles it, " said George. "I shall wire to Lewie to-night. "

"And I, " said the other; "and to-morrow evening we'll be in that coolgreen Paradise of a glen. Think of it! Meantime I shall grill throughanother evening in the House, and pair. "

CHAPTER VI

PASTORAL

I

A July morning had dawned over the Dreichill, and the glen was filledwith sunlight, though as yet there seemed no sun. Behind a peak of hillit displayed its chastened morning splendours, but a stray affluence ofbrightness had sought the nooks of valley in all the wide uplands, courier of the great lord of heat and light and the brown summer. Thehouse of Etterick stands high in a crinkle of hill, with a background ofdark pines, and in front a lake, set in shores of rock and heather. When the world grew bright Lewis awoke, for that strange young man had atrick of rising early, and as he rubbed sleep from his eyes at thewindow he saw the exceeding goodliness of the morning. He roused hiscompanions with awful threats, and then wandered along a corridor tillhe came to a low verandah, whence a little pier ran into a sheltered bayof the loch. This was his morning bathing-place, and as he ran down thesurface of rough moorland stone he heard steps behind him, and Georgeplunged into the cold blue waters scarcely a second after his host. 

It was as chill as winter save for the brightness of the morning, whichmade the loch in open spaces a shining gold. As they raced each otherto the far end, now in the dark blue of shade, now in the gold of theopen, the hill breeze fanned their hair, and the great woody smell ofpines was sweet around them. The house stood dark and silent, for theside before them was the men's quarters, and at that season given up tothemselves; but away beyond, the smoke of chimneys curled into the stillair. A man was mowing in some field on the hillside, and the cry ofsheep came from the valley. By and by they reached the shelving coastof fine hill gravel, and as they turned to swim easily back a sleepyfigure staggered down the pier and stumbled rather than plunged into thewater. 

"Hullo!" gasped George, "there's old John. He'll drown, for I bet youanything he isn't awake. Look!"

But in a second a dark head appeared which shook itself vigorously, anda figure made for the other two with great strokes. He was by so muchthe best swimmer of the three that he had soon reached them, and thoughin all honesty he first swam to the farther shore, yet he touched thepier very little behind them. Then came a rush for the house, and inhalf an hour three fresh-coloured young men came downstairs, whistlingfor breakfast. 

The breakfast-room was a place to refresh a townsman's senses. Long andcool and dark, it was simply Lewis's room, and he preferred to entertainhis friends there instead of wandering among unused dining-rooms. Ithad windows at each end with old-fashioned folding sashes; and the viewon one side was to a great hill shoulder, fir-clad and deep in heather, and on the other to the glen below and the shining links of the Avelin. It was panelled in dark oak, and the furniture was a strange medley. The deep arm-chairs by the fire and the many pipes savoured of thesmoking-room; the guns, rods, polo sticks, whips, which were stacked orhung everywhere, and the heads of deer on the walls, gave it anatmosphere of sport. The pictures were few but good--two water-colours, a small Raeburn above the fireplace, and half a dozen fine etchings. Ina corner were many old school and college groups--the Eton Ramblers, theO. U. A. C. , some dining clubs, and one of Lewis on horseback in racingcostume, looking deeply miserable. Low bookcases of black oak ran roundthe walls, and the shelves were crammed with books piled on one another, many in white vellum bindings, which showed pleasantly against the darkwood. Flowers were everywhere-common garden flowers of old-fashionedkinds, for the owner hated exotics, and in a shallow silver bowl in themidst of the snowy table-cloth was a great mass of purple heather-bells. 

Three very hungry young men sat down to their morning meal with a heartygoodwill. The host began to rummage among his correspondence, andfinally extracted an unstamped note, which he opened. His facebrightened as he read, and he laid it down with a broad smile and helpedhimself to fish. 

"Are you people very particular what you do to-day?" he asked. 

Arthur said, No. George explained that he was in the hands of hisbeneficent friend. 

"Because my Aunt Egeria down at Glenavelin has got up some sort of apicnic on the moors, and she wants us to meet her at the sheepfoldsabout twelve. "

"Oh, " said George meditatively. "Excellent! I shall be charmed. " Buthe looked significantly at Arthur, who returned the glance. 

"Who are at Glenavelin?" asked that simple young man with an air ofinnocence. 

"There's a man called Stocks, whom you probably know. "

Arthur nodded. 

"And there's Bertha Afflint and her sister. "

It was George's turn to nod approvingly. The sharp-witted Miss Afflintwas a great ally of his. 

"And there's a Miss Wishart--Alice Wishart, " said Lewis, without a wordof comment. "And with my Aunt Egeria that will be all. "

The pair got the cue, and resolved to subject the Miss Wishart whosename came last on their host's tongue to a friendly criticism. Meanwhile they held their peace on the matter like wise men. 

"What a strange name Egeria is!" said Arthur. "Very, " said Lewis; "butyou know the story. My respectable aunt's father had a large family ofgirls, and being of a classical turn of mind he called them after theMuses. The Muses held out for nine, but for the tenth and youngest hefound himself in a difficulty. So he tried another tack and called thechild after the nymph Egeria. It sounds outlandish, but I prefer it toTerpsichore. "

Thereafter they lit pipes, and, with the gravity which is due to a greatsubject, inspected their friend's rods and guns. 

"I see no memorials of your travels, Lewie, " said Arthur. "You musthave brought back no end of things, and most people like to stick themround as a remembrance. "

"I have got a roomful if you want to see them, " said The traveller; "butI don't see the point of spoiling a moorland place with foreign odds andends. I like homely and native things about me when I am in Scotland. "

"You're a sentimentalist, old man, " said his friend; and George, whoheard only the last word, assumed that Arthur had then and theredivulged his suspicions, and favoured that gentleman with a wild frownof disapproval. 

As Lewis sat on the edge of the Etterick burn and looked over theshining spaces of morning, forgetful of his friends, forgetful of hispast, his mind was full of a new turmoil of feeling. Alice Wishart hadbegun to claim a surprising portion of his thoughts. He told himself athousand times that he was not in love--that he should never be in love, being destined for other things; that he liked the girl as he liked anyfresh young creature in the morning of life, with youth's beauty and thegrace of innocence. But insensibly his everyday reflections began to becoloured by her presence. "What would she think of this?" "How thatwould please her!" were sentences spoken often by the tongue of hisfancy. He found charm in her presence after his bachelor solitude; herdemure gravity pleased him; but that he should be led bond-slave bylove--that was a matter he valiantly denied. 

II

The sheepfolds of Etterick lie in a little fold of glen some two milesfrom the dwelling, where the heathy tableland, known all over the glenas "The Muirs, " relieves the monotony of precipitous hills. On this dayit was alert with life. The little paddock was crammed with sheep, andmore stood huddling in the pens. Within was the liveliest scene, forthere a dozen herds sat on clipping-stools each with a struggling ewebetween his knees, and the ground beneath him strewn with creamy foldsof fleece. From a thing like a gallows in a corner huge bags weresuspended which were slowly filling. A cauldron of pitch bubbled over afire, and the smoke rose blue in the hot hill air. Every minute abashful animal was led to be branded with a great E on the left shoulderand then with awkward stumbling let loose to join her nakedfellow-sufferers. Dogs slept in the sun and wagged their tails in therear of the paddock. Small children sat on gates and lent willing feetto drive the flocks. In a corner below a little shed was the clippers'meal of ale and pies, with two glasses of whisky each, laid by under awhite cloth. Meantime from all sides rose the continual crying ofsheep, the intermittent bark of dogs, and the loud broad converse of themen. 

Lewis and his friends jumped a fence, and were greeted heartily in theenclosure. He seemed to know each herd by name or rather nickname, forhe had a word for all, and they with all freedom grinned _badinage_ back. 

"Where's my stool, Yed?" he cried. "Am I not to have a hand in clippingmy own sheep?"

An obedient shepherd rose and fetched one of the triangular seats, whileLewis with great ease caught the ewe, pulled her on her back, andproceeded to call for shears. An old pair was found for him, and withmuch dexterity he performed the clipping, taking little longer to thebusiness than the expert herd, and giving the shears a professional wipeon the sacking with which he had prudently defended his clothes. 

From somewhere in the back two boys came forward--the Tam and Jock of aformer day--eager to claim acquaintance. Jock was clearly busy, for hisjacket was off and a very ragged shirt was rolled about two stout brownarms. The "human collie" seemed to be a gentleman of some leisure, forhe was arrayed in what was for him the pink of fashion in dress. Thetwo immediately lay down on the ground beside Lewis exactly in themanner of faithful dogs. 

The men talked cheerfully, mainly on sheep and prices. Now talk wouldtouch on neighbours, and there would be the repetition of some tale orsaying. "There was a man in the glen called Rorison. D'ye mind JockRorison, Sandy?" And Sandy would reply, "Fine I mind Jock, " and thenboth would proceed to confidences. 

"Hullo, Tam, " said Lewis at last, realizing his henchman's grandeur. "Whythis magnificence of dress?

"I'm gaun to the Sabbath-school treat this afternoon, " said that worthy. 

"And you, Jock-are you going too?"

"No me! I'm ower auld, and besides, I've cast out wi' the minister. "

"How was that?"

"Oh, I had been fechtin', " said Jock airily. "It was Andra Laidlaw. Hecalled me ill names, so I yokit on him and bate him too, but I got myface gey sair bashed. The minister met me next day when I was a' blueand yellow, and, says he, 'John Laverlaw, what have ye been daein'?Ye're a bonny sicht for Christian een. How do ye think a face likeyours will look between a pair o' wings in the next warld?' I ken I'm nobonny, " added the explanatory Jock; "but ye canna expect a man to tholesiccan language as that. "

Lewis laughed and, being engaged in clipping his third sheep, forgot thedelicacy of his task and let the shears slip. A very ugly little cut onthe animal's neck was the result. 

"Oh, confound it!" cried the penitent amateur. "Look what I've done, Yed. I'll have to rub in some of that stuff of yours and sew on abandage. The files will kill the poor thing if we leave the cut bare inthis infernal heat. "

The old shepherd nodded, and pointed to where the remedies were kept. Jock went for the box, which contained, besides the ointment, some rollsof stout linen and a huge needle and twine. Lewis doctored the wound asbest he could, and then proceeded to lay on the cloth and sew it to thefleece. The ewe grew restless with the heat and the pinching of thecut, and Jock was given the task of holding her head. 

Clearly Lewis was not meant by Providence for a tailor. He madelamentable work with the needle. It slipped and pricked his fingers, while his unfeeling friends jeered and Tam turned great eyes of sympathyupwards from his Sunday garments. 

"Patience, patience, man!" said the old herd. "Ca' cannier and be a weething quieter in your langwidge. There's a wheen leddies comin' up theburn. "

It was too late. Before Lewis understood the purport of the speech LadyManorwater and her party were at the folds, and as he made one finaleffort with the refractory needle a voice in his ear said:

"Please let me do that, Mr. Haystoun. I've often done it before. "

He looked up and met Alice Wishart's laughing eyes. She stood besidehim and deftly finished the bandage till the ewe was turned off thestool. Then, very warm and red, he turned to find a cool figurelaughing at his condition. 

"I'll have to go and wash my hands, Miss Wishart, " he said gravely. "You had better come too. " And the pair ran down to a deep brown pool inthe burn and cleansed from their fingers the subtle aroma of fleeces. 

"Ugh! my clothes smell like a drover's. That's the worst of being adabbler in most trades. You can never resist the temptation to try yourhand. "

"But, really, your whole manner was most professional, Mr. Haystoun. Your language--"

"Please, don't, " said the penitent; and they returned to the others tofind that once cheerful assembly under a cloud. Every several man therewas nervously afraid of women and worked feverishly as if under somegreat Taskmistress's eye. The result was a superfluity of shear-marksand deep, muffled profanity. Lady Manorwater ran here and there askingquestions and confusing the workers; while Mr. Stocks, in pursuance ofhis democratic sentiments, talked in a stilted fashion to the nearestclipper, who called him "Sir" and seemed vastly ill at ease. 

Lewis restored some cordiality. Under her nephew's influence LadyManorwater became natural and pleasing. Jock was ferreted out of somecorner and, together with the reluctant Tam, brought up forpresentation. 

"Tam, " said his patron, "I'll give you your choice. Whether will you goto the Sabbath-school treat, or come with us to a real picnic? Jock iscoming, and I promise you better fun and better things to eat. "

It was no case for hesitation. Tam executed a doglike gambol on theturf, and proceeded to course up the burn ahead of the party, a visionof twinkling bare legs and ill-fitting Sunday clothes. The sedate Jockrolled down his sleeves, rescued a ragged jacket, and stalked in therear. 

III

Once on the heathy plateau the party scattered. Mr. Stocks caught theunwilling Arthur and treated him to a disquisition on thecharacteristics of the people whose votes he was soon to solicit. Ashis acquaintance with the subject was not phenomenal, the profit to theaggrieved listener was small. George, Lady Manorwater, and the two MissAfflints sought diligently for a camping-ground, which they finallyfound by a clear spring of water on the skirts of a great grey rock. Meanwhile, Alice Wishart and Lewis, having an inordinate love of highplaces, set out for the ridge summit, and reached it to find a windblowing from the far Gled valley and cooling the hot air. 

Alice found a scrap of rock and climbed to the summit, where she satlike a small pixie, surveying a wide landscape and her warm andprostrate companion. Her bright hair and eyes and her entrancing graceof form made the callous Lewis steal many glances upwards from his lowlyseat. The two had become excellent friends, for the man had that honestsimplicity towards women which is the worst basis for love and the bestfor friendship. She felt that at any moment he might call her by someone or other of the endearing expressions used between men. He, for hispart, was fast drifting from friendship to another feeling, but as yethe gave no sign of it, and kept up the brusque, kindly manners of hiscommon life. 

As she looked east and north to the heart of the hill-land, her eyesbrightened, and she rose up and strained on tiptoe to scan the farthesthorizon. Eagerly she asked the name of this giant and that, of thisglint of water--was it loch or burn? Lewis answered without hesitation, as one to whom the country was as well known as his own name. 

By and by her curiosity was satisfied and she slipped back into her oldposture, and with chin on hand gazed into the remote distances. "Andmost of that is yours? Do you know, if I had a land like this I shouldnever leave it again. You, in your ingratitude, will go wandering awayin a year or two, as if any place on earth could be better than this. You are simply 'sinning away your mercies, ' as my grandfather used tosay. "

"But what would become of the heroic virtues that you adore?" asked thecynical Lewis. "If men were all home-keepers it would be a prosaicworld. "

"Can you talk of the prosaic and Etterick in the same breath? Besides, it is the old fallacy of man that the domestic excludes the heroic, "said Alice, fighting for the privileges of her sex. 

"But then, you know, there comes a thing they call the go-fever, whichis not amenable to reason. People who have it badly do not care a strawfor a place in itself; all they want is to be eternally moving from onespot to another. "

"And you?"

"Oh, I am not a sufferer yet, but I walk in fear, for at any moment itmay beset me. " And, laughing, he climbed up beside her. 

It may be true that the last subject of which a man tires is himself, but Lewis Haystoun in this matter must have been distinct from thecommon run of men. Alice had given him excellent opportunities foregotism, but the blind young man had not taken them. The girl, havingbeen brought up to a very simple and natural conception of talk, thoughtno more about it, except that she would have liked so great a travellerto speak more generously. No doubt, after all, this reticence waspreferable to self-revelation. Mr. Stocks had been her companion thatmorning in the drive to Etterick, and he had entertained her with asketch of his future. He had declined, somewhat nervously, to talk ofhis early life, though the girl, with her innate love of a fighter, would have listened with pleasure. But he had sketched his politicalcreed, hinted at the puissance of his friends, claimed a monopoly of thepurer sentiments of life, and rosily augured the future. The girl hadbeen silent--the man had thought her deeply impressed; but now themorning's talk seemed to point a contrast, and Mr. Lewis Haystounclimbed to a higher niche in the temple of her esteem. 

Afar off the others were signaling that lunch was ready, but the two onthe rock were blind. 

"I think you are right to go away, " said Alice. "You would be too welloff here. One would become a very idle sort of being almost at once. "

"And I am glad you agree with me, Miss Wishart. 'Here is the shore, andthe far wide world's before me, ' as the song says. There is littledoing in these uplands, but there's a vast deal astir up and down theearth, and it would be a pity not to have a hand in it. "

Then he stopped suddenly, for at that moment the light and colour wentout of his picture of the wanderer's life, and he saw instead a homelierscene-a dainty figure moving about the house, sitting at his table'shead, growing old with him in the fellowship of years. For a moment hefelt the charm of the red hearth and the quiet life. Some such sketchmust the Goddess of Home have drawn for Ulysses or the wandering Olaf, and if Swanhild or the true Penelope were as pretty as this lady of therock there was credit in the renunciation. The man forgot the wideworld and thought only of the pin-point of Glenavelin. 

Some such fancy too may have crossed the girl's mind. At any rate shecast one glance at the abstracted Lewis and welcomed a courier from therest of the party. This was no other than the dandified Tam, who hadbeen sent post-haste by George-that true friend having suffered theagonies of starvation and a terrible suspicion as to what rash step hishost might be taking. Plainly the young man had not yet made MissWishart's acquaintance. 

IV

The sun set in the thick of the dark hills, and a tired and merry partyscrambled down the burnside to the highway. They had long outstayedtheir intention, but care sat lightly there, and Lady Manorwater alonewas vexed by thoughts of a dinner untouched and a respectable householdin confusion. The sweet-scented dusk was soothing to the senses, andthere in the narrow glen, with the wide blue strath and the gleam of theriver below, it was hard to find the link of reality and easy to creditfairyland. Arthur and Miss Wishart had gone on in front and were nowstrayed among boulders. She liked this trim and precise young man, whose courtesy was so grave and elaborate, while he, being a recluse bynature but a humanitarian by profession, was half nervous and halfentranced in her cheerful society. They talked of nothing, their heartsbeing set on the scramble, and when at last they reached the highway andthe farm where the Glenavelin traps had been put up, they foundthemselves a clear ten minutes in advance of the others. 

As they sat on the dyke in the soft cool air Alice spoke casually of theplace. "Where is Etterick?" she asked; and a light on a hillsidefarther up the glen was pointed out to her. 

"It's a very fresh and pleasant place to stay at, " said Arthur. "We'remuch higher than you are at Glenavelin, and the house is bigger andolder. But we simply camp in a corner of it. You can never get Lewieto live like other people. He is the best of men, but his tastes areprimeval. He makes us plunge off a verandah into a loch first thing inthe morning, you know, and I shall certainly drown some day, for I amnever more than half awake, and I always seem to go straight to thebottom. Then he is crazy about long expeditions, and when the Twelfthcomes we shall never be off the hill. He is a long way too active forthese slack modern days. "

Lewie, Lewie! It was Lewie everywhere! thought the girl. What couldbecome of a man who was so hedged about by admirers? He had seemed tocourt her presence, and her heart had begun to beat faster of late whenshe saw his face. She dared not confess to herself that she was inlove--that she wanted this Lewis to herself, and bated the pretensions ofhis friends. Instead she flattered herself with a fiction. Her groundwas the high one of an interest in character. She liked the young manand was sorry to see him in a way to be spoiled by too much admiration. And the angel who records our innermost thoughts smiled to himself, ifsuch grave beings can smile. 

Meantime Lewis was delivered bound and captive to the enemy. All downthe burn his companion had been Mr. Stocks, and they had lagged behindthe others. That gentleman had not enjoyed the day; he had been boredby the landscape and scorched by the sun; also, as the time of contestapproached, he was full of political talk, and he had found no ears toappreciate it. Now he had seized on Lewis, and the younger man had lenthim polite attention though inwardly full of ravening and bitterness. 

"Your friend Mr. Mordaunt has promised to support my candidature. You, of course, will be in the opposite camp. "

Lewis said he did not think so-that he had lost interest in partypolitics, and would lie low. 

Mr. Stocks bowed in acquiescence. 

"And what do you think of my chances?"

Lewis replied that he should think about equal betting. "You see theplace is Radical in the main, with the mills at Gledfoot and the weaversat Gledsmuir. Up in Glenavelin they are more or less Conservative. Merkland gets in usually by a small majority because he is a local manand has a good deal of property down the Gled. If two strangers foughtit the Radical would win; as it is it is pretty much of a toss-up eitherway. "

"But if Sir Robert resigns?"

"Oh, that scare has been raised every time by the other party. I shouldsay that there's no doubt that the old man will keep on for years. "

Mr. Stocks looked relieved. "I heard of his resignation as acertainty, and I was afraid that a stronger man might take his place. "

So it fell out that the day which began with pastoral closed, like manyanother day, with politics. Since Lewis refrained from controversy, Mr. Stocks seemed to look upon him as a Gallio from whom no danger need befeared, nay, even as a convert to be fostered. He became confident andtalked jocularly of the tricks of his trade. Lewis's boredom wascomplete by the time they reached the farmhouse and found the Glenavelinparty ready to start. 

"We want to see Etterick, so we shall come to lunch to-morrow, Lewie, "said his aunt. "So be prepared, my dear, and be on your bestbehaviour. "

Then, with his two friends, he turned towards the lights of his home. 

CHAPTER VII

THE MAKERS OF EMPIRE

The day before the events just recorded two men had entered the door ofa certain London club and made their way to a remote little smoking-roomon the first floor. It was not a handsome building, nor had it anyparticular outlook or position. It was a small, old-fashioned place ina side street, in style obviously of last century, and the fittingswithin were far from magnificent. Yet no club carried more distinctionin its membership. Its hundred possible inmates were the cream of thehigher professions, the chef and the cellar were things to wonder at, and the man who could write himself a member of the Rota Club hadobtained one of the rare social honours which men confer on one another. Thither came all manner of people--the distinguished foreigner travellingincognito, and eager to talk with some Minister unofficially on mattersof import, the diplomat on a secret errand, the traveller home for abrief season, the soldier, the thinker, the lawyer. It was a catholicassembly, but exclusive--very. Each man bore the stamp of competence onhis face, and there was no cheap talk of the "well-informed" variety. When the members spoke seriously they spoke like experts; otherwise theywere apt to joke very much like schoolboys let loose. The Right Hon. Mr. M---- was not above twitting Lord S---- with gunroom stories, andsuffering in turn good-natured libel. 

Of the two men lighting their pipes in the little room one was to thefirst glance a remarkable figure. About the middle height, with asquare head and magnificent shoulders, he looked from the back notunlike some professional strong man. But his face betrayed him, for itwas clearly the face of the intellectual worker, the man of characterand mind. His jaw was massive and broad, saved from hardness only by aquaintly humorous mouth; he had, too, a pair of very sharp blue eyeslooking from under shaggy eyebrows. His age was scarcely beyond thirty, but one would have put it ten years later, for there were lines on hisbrow and threads of grey in his hair. His companion was slim and, to ahasty glance, insignificant. He wore a peaked grey beard whichlengthened his long, thin face, and he had a nervous trick of drummingalways with his fingers on whatever piece of furniture was near. But ifyou looked closer and marked the high brow, the keen eyes, and the veryresolute mouth, the thought of insignificance disappeared. He lookednot unlike a fighting Yankee colonel who had had a Puritan upbringing, and the impression was aided by his simplicity in dress. He was, infact, a very great man, the Foreign Secretary of the time, formerlyknown to fame as Lord Malham, and at the moment, by his father's death, Lord Beauregard, and, for his sins, an exile to the Upper House. Hiscompanion, whose name was Wratislaw, was a younger Member of Parliamentwho was credited with peculiar knowledge and insight on the matterswhich formed his lordship's province. They were close friends andallies of some years' standing, and colloquies between the two in thisvery place were not unknown to the club annals. 

Lord Beauregard looked at his companion's anxious face. "Do you knowthe news?" he said. 

"What news?" asked Wratislaw. "That your family position is changed, orthat the dissolution will be a week earlier, or that Marka is busyagain?"

"I mean the last. How did you know? Did you see the telegrams?"

"No, I saw it in the papers. "

"Good Heavens!" said the great man. "Let me see the thing, " and hesnatched a newspaper cutting from Wratislaw's hand, returning it thenext moment with a laugh. It ran thus: "Telegrams from the Punjabdeclare that an expedition, the personnel of which is not yet revealed, is about to start for the town of Bardur in N. Kashmir, to penetrate thewastes beyond the frontier. It is rumoured that the expedition has asemi-official character. "

"That's our friend, " said Wratislaw, putting the paper into his pocket. 

Lord Beauregard wrinkled his brow and stared at the bowl of his pipe. "I see the motive clearly, but I am hanged if I understand why anevening paper should print it. Who in this country knows of theexistence of Bardur?"

"Many people since Haystoun's book, " said the other. 

"I have just glanced at it. Is there anything important in it?"

"Nothing that we did not know before. But things are put in a freshlight. He covered ground himself of which we had only a second-handaccount. "

"And he talks of this Bardur?"

"A good deal. He is an expert in his way on the matter and uncommonlyclever. He kept the best things out of the book, and it would be worthyour while meeting him. Do you happen to know him?"

"No--o, " said the great man doubtfully. "Oh, stop a moment. I haveheard my young brother talk of somebody of the same name. Rather afigure at Oxford, wasn't he?"

Wratislaw nodded. "But to talk of Marka, " he add. 

"His mission is, of course, official, and he has abundant resources. "

"So much I gathered, " said Wratislaw. "But his designs?

"He knows the tribes in the North better than any living man, butwithout a base at hand he is comparatively harmless. The devil in thething is that we do not know how close that base may be. Fifty thousandmen may be massed within fifty miles, and we are in ignorance. "

"It is the lack of a secret service, " said the other. "Had we that, there are a hundred young men who would have risked their necks thereand kept us abreast of our enemies. As it is, we have to wait till newscomes by some roundabout channel, while that cheerful being, Marka, keeps the public easy by news of hypothetical private expeditious. "

"And meantime there is that thousand-mile piece of desert of which weknow nothing, and where our friends may be playing pranks as theyplease. Well, well, we must wait on developments. It is the lastrefuge of the ill-informed. What about the dissolution? You are safe, I suppose?"

Wratislaw nodded. 

"I have been asked my forecast fifty times to-day, and I steadily refuseto speak. But I may as well give it to you. We shall come back with amajority of from fifty to eighty, and you, my dear fellow, will not beforgotten. "

"You mean the Under-Secretaryship, " said the other. "Well, I don't mindit. "

"I should think not. Why, you will get that chance your friends havehoped so long for, and then it is only a matter of time till you climbthe last steps. You are a youngish man for a Minister, for all yourelderly manners. "

Wratislaw smiled the pleased smile of the man who hears kind words fromone whom he admires. "It won't be a bed of roses, you know. I am veryunpopular, and I have the grace to know it. "

The elder man looked on the younger with an air of kindly wisdom. "Yourpride may have a fall, my dear fellow. You are young and confident, Iam old and humble. Some day you will be glad to hope that you are notwithout this despised popularity. "

Wratislaw looked grave. "God forbid that I should despise it. When itcomes my way I shall think that my work is done, and rest in peace. Butyou and I are not the sort of people who can court it with comfort. Weare old sticks and very full of angles, but it would be a pity to rubthem off if the shape were to be spoiled. "

Lord Beauregard nodded. "Tell me more about your friend Haystoun. "

Wratislaw's face relaxed, and he became communicative. 

"He is a Scots laird, rather well off, and, as I have said, uncommonlyclever. He lives at a place called Etterick in the Gled valley. "

"I saw Merkland to-day, and he spoke his farewell to politics. TheWhips told me about it yesterday. "

"Merkland! But he always raised that scare!"

"He is serious this time. He has sold his town house. "

"Then that settles it. Lewis shall stand in his place. "

"Good, " said the great man. "We want experts. He would strengthen yourfeeble hands and confirm your tottering knees, Tommy. "

"If he gets in; but he will have a fight for it. Our dear friend AlbertStocks has been nursing the seat, and the Manorwaters and scores ofLewie's friends will help him. That young man has a knack of confininghis affections to members of the opposite party. "

"What was Merkland's majority? Two-fifty or something like that?"

"There or about. But he was an old and well-liked country laird, whereas Lewie is a very young gentleman with nothing to his creditexcept an Oxford reputation and a book of travels, neither of which willappeal to the Gledsmuir weavers. "

"But he is popular?"

"Where he is known--adored. But his name does not carry confidence tothose who do not know the man, for his family were weak-kneed gentry. "

"Yes, I knew his father. Able, but crotchety and impossible! Tommy, this young man must get the seat, for we cannot afford to throw away asingle chance. You say he knows the place, " and he jerked his head toindicate that East to which his thoughts were ever turning. "Some timein the next two years there will be the devil's own mess in that happyland. Then your troubles will begin, my friend, and I can wish nothingbetter for you than the support of some man in the Commons who knowsthat Bardur is not quite so pastoral as Hampshire. He may relieve youof some of the popular odium you are courting, and at the worst he canbe sent out. "

Wratislaw whistled long and low. "I think not, " he said. "He is toogood to throw away. But he must get in, and as there is nothing in theworld for me to do I shall go up to Ettorick tomorrow and talk to him. He will do as I tell him, and we can put our back into the fight. Besides, I want to see Stocks again. That man is the joy of my heart!"

"Lucky beggar!" said the Minister. "Oh, go by all means and enjoyyourself, while I swelter here for another three weeks over meaninglesstelegrams enlivened by the idiot diplomatist. Good-bye and good luck, and bring the young man to a sense of his own value. "

CHAPTER VIII

MR. WRATISLAW'S ADVENT

As the three men went home in the dusk they talked of the day. Lewishad been in a bad humour, but the company of his friends exorcised theimp of irritation, and he felt only the mellow gloom of the evening andthe sweet scents of the moor. In such weather he had a trick of walkingwith his head high and his nostrils wide, sniffing the air like the wildass of the desert with which the metaphorical George had erstwhilecompared him. That young man meanwhile was occupied with his ownreflections. His good nature had been victimized, he had been made tofetch and carry continually, and the result was that he had scarcelyspoken a word to Miss Wishart. His plans thus early foiled, nothingremained but to draw the more fortunate Arthur, so in a conspirator'saside he asked him his verdict. But Arthur refused to speak. "She ispretty and clever, " he said, "and excellent company. " And with this hislips were sealed, and his thoughts went off on his own concerns. 

Lewis heard and smiled. The sun and wind of the hills beat in hispulses like wine. To have breathed all day the fragrance of heather andpines, to have gladdened the eye with an infinite distance and bluelines of mountain, was with this man to have drunk the cup ofintoxicating youth. The cool gloaming did not chill; rather it was thehigh and solemn aftermath of the day's harvesting. The faces ofgracious women seemed blent with the pageant of summer weather; kindlyvoices, simple joys--for a moment they seemed to him the major matters inlife. So far it was pleasing fancy, but Alice soon entered to disturbwith the disquieting glory of her hair. The family of the Haystouns hadever a knack of fine sentiment. Fantastic, unpractical, they weregluttons for the romantic, the recondite, and the dainty. But now hadcome a breath of strong wind which rent the meshes of a philanderingfancy. A very new and strange feeling was beginning to make itselfknown. He had come to think of Alice with the hot pained affectionwhich makes the high mountains of the world sink for the time to aspecies of mole-hillock. She danced through his dreams and usurped allthe paths of his ambition. Formerly he had thought of himself--for theman was given to self-portraiture--as the adventurer, the scorner of thedomestic; now he struggled to regain the old attitude, but he struggledin vain. The ways were blocked, a slim figure was ever in view, and lo!when he blotted it from his sight the world was dark and the roadsblind. For a moment he had lost his bearings on the sea of life. Asyet the discomfiture was sweet, his confusion was a joy; and it is thefirst trace of weakness which we have seen in the man that he acceptedthe unsatisfactory with composure. 

At the door of Etterick it became apparent that something was astir. Wheel-marks were clear in the gravel, and the ancient butler had an airof ceremony. "Mr. Wratislaw has arrived, sir, " he whispered to Lewis, whereat that young man's face shone. 

"When? How? Where is he now?" he cried, and with a word to hiscompanions he had crossed the hall, raced down a lengthy passage, andflung open the door of his sanctum. There, sure enough, were the broadshoulders of Wratislaw bending among the books. 

"Lord bless me, Tommy, what extraordinary surprise visit is this? Ithought you would be over your ears in work. We are tremendouslypleased to see you. "

The sharp blue eyes had been scanning the other's frank sunburnt facewith an air of affectionate consideration. "I got off somehow or other, as I had to see you, old man, so I thought I would try this place first. What a fortressed wilderness you live in! I got out at Gledsmuir aftertravelling some dreary miles in a train which stopped at every farm, andthen I had to wait an hour till the solitary dogcart of the innreturned. Hullo! you've got other visitors" And he stretched out amassive hand to Arthur and George. 

The sight of him had lifted a load from these gentlemen's hearts. Theold watchdog had come; the little terriers might now take holiday. Thetask of being Lewis's keeper did not by right belong to them; they wereonly amateurs acting in the absence of the properly qualified Wratislaw. Besides, it had been anxious work, for while each had sworn to himselfaforetime to protect his friend from the wiles of Miss Wishart, bothwere now devoted slaves drawn at that young woman's chariot wheel. Youwill perceive that it is a delicate matter to wage war with a goddess, and a task unblest of Heaven. 

Supper was brought, and the lamps lit in the cool old room, where, through the open window, they could still catch the glint of foam on thestream and the dark gloom of pines on the hill. They fell ravenously onthe meal, for one man had eaten nothing since midday and the others werefresh from moorland air. Thereafter they pulled armchairs to a window, and lit the pipes of contentment. Wratislaw stretched his arms on thesill and looked out into the fragrant darkness. 

"Any news, Tommy?" asked his host. "Things seem lively in the East. "

"Very, but I am ill-informed. Did you lay no private lines ofcommunication in your travels?"

"They were too short. I picked up a lot of out-of-the-way hints, but asI am not a diplomatist I cannot use them. I think I have already madeyou a present of most. By the by, I see from the papers that anofficial expedition is going north from Bardur. What idiot inventedthat?"

Wratislaw pulled his head in and sat back in his chair. "You are sureyou don't happen to know?"

"Sure. But it is just the sort of canard which the gentry on the otherside of the frontier would invent to keep things quiet. Who are theEnglishmen at Bardur now?"

The elder man looked shrewdly at the younger, who was carelessly pullinga flower to pieces. "There's Logan, whom you know, and Thwaite andGribton. "

"Good men all, but slow in the uptake. Logan is a jewel. He gave methe best three days' shooting I ever dreamed of, and he has more storiesin his head than George. But if matters got into a tangle I wouldrather not be in his company. Thwaite is a gentlemanlike sort offellow, but dull-very, while Gribton is the ordinary shrewd commercialman, very cautious and rather timid. "

"Did you ever happen to hear of a man called Marka? He might callhimself Constantine Marka, or Arthur Marker, or the Baron Mark--whateverhappened to suit him. "

Lewis puzzled for a little. "Yes, of course I did. By George! Ishould think so. It was a chap of that name who had gone north the weekbefore I arrived. They said he would never be heard of again. Heseemed a reckless sort of fool. "

"You didn't see him?"

"No. But why?"

"Simply that you came within a week of meeting one of the cleverest menliving, a cheerful being whom the Foreign Office is more interested inthan any one else in the world. If you should hear again of ConstantineMarka, Marker, or Mark, please note it down. "

"You mean that he is the author of the _canard_, " said Lewis, with sharpeyes, taking up a newspaper. 

"Yes, and many more. This graceful person will complicate things forme, for I am to represent the Office in the Commons if we get back witha decent majority. "

Lewis held out a cordial hand. "I congratulate you, Tommy. Nowbeginneth the end, and may I be spared to see!"

"I hope you may, and it's on this I want to talk to you. Merkland hasresigned; it will be in the papers to-morrow. I got it kept out till Icould see you!"

"Yes?" said Lewis, with quickening interest. 

"And we want you to take his place. I spoke to him, and he isenthusiastic on the matter. I wired to the Conservative Club atGledsmuir, and it seems you are their most cherished possibility. Theleaders of the party are more than willing, so it only remains for youto consent, my dear boy. "

"I--don't--think--I--can, " said the possibility slowly. "You see, onlyto-day I told that man Stocks that Merkland would not resign, and that Iwas sick of party politics and would not interfere with his chances. The poor beggar is desperately keen, and if I stood now he would thinkme disingenuous. "

"But there is no reason why he should not know the truth. You can tellhim that you only heard about Merkland to-night, and that you act onlyin deference to strong external pressure. "

"In that case he would think me a fool. I have a bad enough reputationfor lack of seriousness in these matters already. The man is not veryparticular, and there is nothing to hinder him from blazoning it up anddown the place that I changed my mind in ten minutes on a friend'srecommendation. I should get a very complete licking. "

"Do you mind, Lewie, if I advise you to take it seriously? It is reallynot a case for little scruples about reputation. There are rocks aheadof me, and I want a man like you in the House more than I could make youunderstand. You say you hate party politics, and I am with you, butthere is no reason why you should not use them as a crutch to betterwork. You are in your way an expert, and that is what we will needabove all things in the next few years. Of course, if you feel yourselfbound by a promise not to oppose Stocks, then I have nothing more tosay; but, unless the man is a lunatic, he will admit the justice of yourcase. "

"You mean that you really want me, Tommy?" said the young man, in greatdoubt. "I hate the idea of fighting Stocks, and I shall most certainlybe beaten. "

"That is on the knees of the gods, and as for the rest I take theresponsibility. I shall speak to Stocks myself. It will be a sharpfight, but I see no reason why you should not win. After all, it isyour own countryside, and you are a better man than your opponent. "

"You are the serpent who has broken up this peaceful home. I shall bemiserable for a month, and the house will be divided against itself. Arthur has promised to help Stocks, while the Manorwaters, root andbranch, are pledged to support him. "

"I'll do my best, Lewie, for old acquaintance' sake. It had to comesooner or later, you know, and it is as well that you should seize thefavourable moment. Now let us drop the subject for to-night. I want toenjoy myself. "

And he rose, stretched his great arms, and wandered about the room. 

To all appearance he had forgotten the very existence of thingspolitical. Arthur, who had a contest to face shortly, was eager foradvice and the odds and ends of information which defend the joints in acandidate's harness, but the well-informed man disdained to help. Hetested the guns, gave his verdict on rods, and ranged through a cabinetof sporting requisites. Then he fell on his host's books, and for anhour the three were content to listen to him. It was rarely thatWratislaw fell into such moods, but when the chance came it was not tobe lightly disregarded. A laborious youth had given him great stores ofscholarship, and Lewis's books were a curious if chaotic collection. Onthe fly-leaf of a little duodecimo was an inscription from the author ofWaverley, who had often made Etterick his hunting-ground. A Dunbar hadHawthornden's autograph, and a set of tall classic folios bore thehandwriting of George Buchanan. Lord Kames, Hume, and a score of othershad dedicated works to lairds of Etterick, and the Haystouns themselveshad deigned at times to court the Muse. Lewis's own specialbooks-college prizes, a few modern authors, some well-thumbed poets, anda row in half a dozen languages on some matters of diplomaticinterest-were crowded into a little oak bookcase which had once gracedhis college rooms. Thither Wratislaw ultimately turned, dipping, browsing, reading a score of lines. 

"What a nice taste you have in arrangement!" he cried. "Scott, Tolstoi, Meredith, an odd volume of a Saga library, an odd volume of the _CorpusBoreale_, some Irish reprints, Stevenson's poems, Virgil and the_Pilgrim's Progress_, and a French Gazetteer of Mountains wedged abovethem. And then an odd Badminton volume, French _Memoires_, a Dante, aHomer, and a badly printed German text of Schopenhauer! Three differentcopies of Rabelais, a De Thou, a Horace, and-bless my soul!--abouttwenty books of fairy tales! Lewie, you must have a mind like alumber-room. "

"I pillaged books from the big library as I wanted them, " said the youngman humbly. "Do you know, Tommy, to talk quite seriously, I get moreerratic every day? Knocking about the world and living alone make me aqueer slave of whims. I am straying too far from the normal. I wish togoodness you would take me and drive me back to the ways of commonsense. "

"Meaning--?

"That I am getting cranky and diffident. I am beginning to get nervousabout people's opinion and sensitive to my own eccentricity. It is asad case for a man who never used to care a straw for a soul on earth. "

"Lewie, attend to me, " said Wratislaw, with mock gravity. "You have notby any chance been falling in love?"

The accused blushed like a girl, and lied withal like a trooper, to thedelight of the un-Christian George. 

"Well, then, my dear fellow, there is hope for you yet. If a man oncegets sentimental, he desires to be normal above all things, for he has acrazy intuition that it is the normal which women really like, beingthemselves but a hair's-breadth from the commonplace. I suppose it isonly another of the immortal errors with which mankind hedges itselfabout. "

"You think it an error?" said Lewis, with such an air of relief thatGeorge began to laugh and Wratislaw looked comically suspicious. 

"Why the tone of joy, Lewie?"

"I wanted your opinion, " said the perjured young man. "I thought ofwriting a book. But that is not the thing I was talking about. I wantto be normal, aggressively normal, to court the suffrages of Gledsmuir. Do you know Stocks?"

"Surely. "

"An excellent person, but I never heard him utter a word above a child'scapacity. He can talk the most shrieking platitudes as if he had foundat last the one and only truth. And people are impressed. "

Wratislaw pulled down his eyebrows and proceeded to defend a Scottishconstituency against the libel of gullibility. But Lewis was notlistening. He did not think of the impression made on the votingpowers, but on one small girl who clamorously impeded all his thoughts. She was, he knew, an enthusiast for the finer sentiments of life, and ofthese Mr. Stocks had long ago claimed a monopoly. He felt bitterlyjealous-the jealousy of the innocent man to whom woman is anunaccountable creature, whose habits and likings must be curiouslystudied. He was dimly conscious of lacking the stage attributes of alover. He could not pose as a mirror of all virtues, a fanatic for theTrue and the Good. Somehow or other he had acquired an air ofself-seeking egotism, unscrupulousness, which he felt miserably mustmake him unlovely in certain eyes. Nor would the contest he wasentering upon improve this fancied reputation of his. He would have tosay hard, unfeeling things against what all the world would applaud asgenerous sentiment. 

When the others had gone yawning to bed, he returned and sat at thewindow for a little, smoking hard and puzzling out the knots whichconfronted him. He had a dismal anticipation of failure. Notdefeat--that was a little matter; but an abject show of incompetence. His feelings pulled him hither and thither. He could not utter moralplatitudes to checkmate his opponent's rhetoric, for, after all, he washonest; nor could he fill the part of the cold critic of hazy sentiment;gladly though he would have done it, he feared the reproach in girlisheyes. This good man was on the horns of a dilemma. Love and habit, agenerous passion and a keen intellect dragged him alternately to theirside, and as a second sign of weakness the unwilling scribe has torecord that his conclusion as he went to bed was to let things drift--totake his chance. 

CHAPTER IX

THE EPISODES OF A DAY

It is painful to record it, but when the Glenavelin party arrived atnoon of the next day it was only to find the house deserted. LadyManorwater, accustomed to the vagaries of her nephew, led the guestsover the place and found to her horror that it seemed undwelt in. Thehall was in order, and the tart and rosy lairds of Etterick looked downfrom their Raeburn canvases on certain signs of habitation; but thedrawing-rooms were dingy with coverings and all the large rooms were inthe same tidy disarray. Then, wise from experience, she led the way toLewis's sanctum, and found there a pretty luncheon-table and every tokenof men's presence. Soon the four tenants arrived, hot and breathless, from the hill, to find Bertha Afflint deep in rods and guns, MissWishart and Lady Manorwater ensconced in the great armchairs, and Mr. Stocks casting a critic's eye over the unruly bookshelves. 

Wratislaw's presence at first cast a certain awe on the assembly. Hisname was so painfully familiar, so consistently abused, that it was hardto refrain from curiosity. Lady Manorwater, an ancient ally, greetedhim effusively, and Alice cast shy glances at this strong man with thekind smile and awkward manners. The truth is that Wratislaw was acutelynervous. With Mr. Stocks alone was he at his ease. He shook his handheartily, declared himself delighted to meet him again, and looked withsuch manifest favour on this opponent that the gentleman was cast intoconfusion. 

"I must talk shop, " cried Lady Manorwater when they were seated attable. "Lewie, have you heard the news that poor Sir Robert hasretired? What a treasure of a cook you have, sir! The poor man isgoing to travel, as his health is bad; he wrote me this morning. Nowwho is to take his place? And I wish you'd get me the recipe for thistomato soup. "

Lewis unravelled the tangled skein of his aunt's questions. 

"I heard about Merkland last night from Wratislaw. I think, perhaps, Ihad better make a confession to everybody. I never intended to botherwith party politics, at least not for a good many years, but some peoplewant me to stand, so I have agreed. You will have a very weak opponent, Stocks, so I hope you will pardon my impertinence in trying the thing. "

The candidate turned a little pale, but he smiled gallantly. 

"I shall be glad to have so distinguished an opponent. But I thoughtthat yesterday you would never have dreamed of the thing. "

"No more I should; but Wratislaw talked to me seriously and I waspersuaded. "

Wratislaw tried to look guileless, failed signally, and detected asudden unfavourable glance from Mr. Stocks in his direction. 

"We must manage everything as pleasantly as possible. You have my auntand my uncle and Arthur on your side, while I have George, who doesn'tcount in this show, and I hope Wratislaw. I'll give you a three days'start if you like in lieu of notice. " And the young man laughed as ifthe matter were the simplest of jokes. 

The laugh jarred very seriously on one listener. To Alice the morninghad been full of vexations, for Mr. Stocks had again sought hercompany, and wearied her with a new manner of would-be gallantry whichsat ill upon him. She had come to Etterick with a tenderness towardsLewis which was somewhat dispelled by his newly-disclosed politicalaims. It meant that the Glenavelin household, including herself, wouldbe in a different camp for three dreary weeks, and that Mr. Stockswould claim more of her society than ever. With feminine inconsistencyshe visited her repugnance towards that gentleman on his innocent rival. But Mr. Lewis Haystoun's light-hearted manner of regarding the businessstruck the little Puritan deeper. Politics had always been a thing ofthe gravest import in her eyes, bound up with a man's duty and honourand religion, and lo! here was this Gallio who not only adorned a partyshe had been led to regard as reprobate, but treated the whole affair asa half-jocular business, on which one should not be serious. It wassheer weakness, her heart cried out, the weakness of the philanderer, the half-hearted. In her vexation her interest flew in sympathy to Mr. Stocks, and she viewed him for the occasion with favour. 

"You are far too frivolous about it, " she cried. "How can you fight ifyou are not in earnest, and how can you speak things you only halfbelieve? I hate to think of men playing at politics. " And she had sether little white teeth, and sat flushed and diffident, a Muse ofProtest. 

Lewis flushed in turn. He recognized with pain the fulfilment of hisfears. He saw dismally how during the coming fight he would sink dailyin the estimation of this small critic, while his opponent would asconspicuously rise. The prospect did not soothe him, and he turned toBertha Afflint, who was watching the scene with curious eyes. 

"It's very sad, Lewie, " she said, "but you'll get no canvassers fromGlenavelin. We have all been pledged to Mr. Stocks for the last week. Alice is a keen politician, and, I believe, has permanently unsettledLord Manorwater's easy-going Liberalism. She believes in action;whereas, you know, he does not. "

"We all believe in action nowadays, " said Wratislaw. "I could wish attimes for the revival of 'leisureliness' as a party catch-word. "

And then there ensued a passage of light arms between the great man andBertha which did not soothe Alice's vexation. She ignored the amiableGeorge, seeing in him another of the half-hearted, and in a fine heat ofvirtue devoted herself to Mr. Stocks. That gentleman had beenmelancholy, but the favour of Miss Wishart made him relax his heavybrows and become communicative. He was flattered by her interest. Sheheard his reminiscences with a smile and his judgments with attention. Soon the whole table talked merrily, and two people alone were awarethat breaches yawned under the unanimity. 

Archness was not in Alice's nature, and still less was coquetry. WhenLewis after lunch begged to be allowed to show her his dwelling she didnot blush and simper, she showed no pretty reluctance, no gracefuldispleasure. She thanked him, but coldly, and the two climbed the ridgeabove the lake, whence the whole glen may be seen winding beneath. Itwas still, hot July weather, and the far hills seemed to blink andshimmer in the haze; but at their feet was always coolness in the bluedepth of the loch, the heath-fringed shores, the dark pines, and thecold whinstone crags. 

"You don't relish the prospect of the next month?" she asked. 

He shrugged his shoulders. "After all, it is only a month, and it willall be over before the shooting begins. "

"I cannot understand you, " she cried suddenly and impatiently. "Peoplecall you ambitious, and yet you have to be driven by force to thesimplest move in the game, and all the while you are thinking andtalking as if a day's sport were of far greater importance. "

"And it really vexes you--Alice?" he said, with penitent eyes. 

She drew swiftly away and turned her face, so that the man might not seethe vexation and joy struggling for mastery. 

"Of course it is none of my business, but surely it is a pity. " And thelittle doctrinaire walked with head erect to the edge of the slope andstudied intently the distant hills. 

The man was half amused, half pained, but his evil star was in theascendant. Had he known it, he would have been plain and natural, forat no time had the girl ever been so near to him. Instead, he made somelaughing remark, which sounded harshly flippant in her ears. She lookedat him reproachfully; it was cruel to treat her seriousness with scorn;and then, seeing Lady Manorwater and the others on the lawn below, sheasked him with studied carelessness to take her back. Lewis obeyedmeekly, cursing in his heart his unhappy trick of an easy humour. Ifhis virtues were to go far to rob him of what he most cared for, itlooked black indeed for the unfortunate young man. 

Meantime Wratislaw and Mr. Stocks had drawn together by the attractionof opposites. A change had come over the latter, and momentarilyeclipsed his dignity. For the man was not without tact, and he feltthat the attitude of high-priest of all the virtues would not suit inthe presence of one whose favourite task it was to laugh his so-calledvirtues to scorn. Such, at least to begin with, was his honourableintention. But the subtle Wratislaw drew him from his retirement andskilfully elicited his coy principles. It was a cruel performance--ashameless one, had there been any spectator. The one would lay down afine generous line of policy; the other would beg for a fact inconfirmation. The one would haltingly detail some facts; the otherwould promptly convince him of their falsity. Eventually the victimgrew angry and a little frightened. The real Mr. Stocks was a man ofbusiness, not above making a deal with an opponent; and for a little thereal Mr. Stocks emerged from his shell. 

"You won't speak much in the coming fight, will you? You see, you arerather heavy metal for a beginner like myself, " he said, with commercialfrankness. 

"No, my dear Stocks, to set your mind at rest, I won't. Lewis wants tobe knocked about a little, and he wants the fight to brace him. I'llleave him to fight his own battles, and wish good luck to the betterman. Also, I won't come to your meetings and ask awkward questions. "

Mr. Stocks bore malice only to his inferiors, and respected his betterswhen he was not on a platform. He thanked Wratislaw with greatheartiness, and when Lady Manorwater found the two they were beaming oneach other like the most ancient friends. 

"Has anybody seen Lewie?" she was asking. "He is the most scandaloushost in the world. We can't find boats or canoes and we can't find him. Oh, here is the truant!" And the renegade host was seen in the wake ofAlice descending from the ridge. 

Something in the attitude of the two struck the lady with suspicion. Was it possible that she had been blind, and that her nephew was aboutto confuse her cherished schemes? This innocent woman, who went throughthe world as not being of it, had fancied that already Alice had fallenin with her plans. She had seemed to court Mr. Stocks's company, whilehe most certainly sought eagerly for hers. But Lewis, if he entered thelists, would be a perplexing combatant, and Lady Manorwater called hergods to witness that it should not be. Many motives decided her againstit. She hated that a scheme of her own once made should be checkmated, though it were by her dearest friend. More than all, her pride was inarms. Lewis was a dazzling figure; he should make a great match; moneyand pretty looks and parvenu blood were not enough for his highmightiness. 

So it came about that, when they had explored the house, circumnavigatedthe loch, and had tea on a lawn of heather, she informed her party thatshe must get out at Haystounslacks, for she wished to see the farmer, and asked Bertha to keep her company. The young woman agreed readily, with the result that Alice and Mr. Stocks were left sole occupants ofthe carriage for the better half of the way. The man was only toowilling to seize the chance thus divinely given him. His irritation atLewis's projects had been tempered by Alice's kindness at lunch andWratislaw's unlooked-for complaisance. Things looked rosy for him; faroff, as on the horizon of his hopes, he saw a seat in Parliament and afair and amply dowered wife. 

But Miss Wishart was scarcely in so pleasant a humour. With Lewis shewas undeniably cross, but of Mr. Stocks she was radically intolerant. A moment of pique might send her to his side, but the position wasunnatural and could not be maintained. Even now Lewis was in herthoughts. Fragments of his odd romantic speech clove to her memory. His figure--for he showed to perfection in his own surroundings--was socomely and gallant, so bright with the glamour of adventurous youth, that for a moment this prosaic young woman was a convert to the colouredside of life and had forgotten her austere creed. 

Mr. Stocks went about his duty with praise-worthy thoroughness. Forthe fiftieth time in a week he detailed to her his prospects. When hehad raised a cloud-built castle of fine hopes, when he had with manlysimplicity repeated his confession of faith, he felt that the crucialmoment had arrived. Now, when she looked down the same avenue ofprospect as himself, he could gracefully ask her to adorn the fair scenewith her presence. 

"Alice, " he said, and at the sound of her name the girl started from areverie in which Lewis was not absent, and looked vacantly in his face. 

He took it for maidenly modesty. 

"I have wanted to speak to you for long, Alice. We have seen a gooddeal of each other lately, and I have come to be very fond of you. Itrust you may have some liking for me, for I want you to promise to bemy wife. "

He told his love in regular sentences. Unconsciously he had fallen intothe soft patronizing tone in which aforetime he had shepherded a Sundayschool. 

The girl looked at the large sentimental face and laughed. She feltashamed of her rudeness even in the act. 

He caught her hands, and before she knew his face was close to hers. "Promise me, dear, " he said. "We have everything in common. Yourfather will be delighted, and we will work together for the good of thepeople. You are not meant to be a casual idler like the people atEtterick. You and I are working man and woman. "

It was her turn to flush in downright earnest. The man's hot facesickened her. What were these wild words he was speaking? She dimlycaught their purport, heard the mention of Etterick, saw once againLewis with his quick, kindly eyes, and turned coldly to the lover. 

"It is quite out of the question, Mr. Stocks, " she said calmly. "Ofcourse I am obliged to you for the honour you have done me, but thething is impossible. "

"Who is it?" he cried, with angry eyes. "Is it Lewis Haystoun?"

The girl looked quickly at him, and he was silent, abashed. Strangelyenough, at that moment she liked him better than ever before. Sheforgave him his rudeness and folly, his tactless speech and his comicalface. He was in love with her, he offered her what he most valued, hispolitical chances and his code of fine sentiments; it was not his blameif she found both little better than husks. 

Her attention flew for a moment to the place she had left, only toreturn to a dismal reflection. Was she not, after all, in the samegalley as her rejected suitor? What place had she in the frankgood-fellowship of Etterick, or what part had they in the inheritance ofherself and her kind? Had not Mr. Stocks--now sitting glumly by herside--spoken the truth? We are only what we are made, and generationsof thrift and seriousness had given her a love for the strenuous and theunadorned which could never be cast out. Here was a quandary--for atthe same instant there came the voice of the heart defiantly calling herto the breaking of idols. 

CHAPTER X

HOME TRUTHS

I

It is told by a great writer in his generous English that when thefollowers of Diabolus were arraigned before the Recorder and Mayor ofregenerate Mansoul, a certain Mr. Haughty carried himself well to thelast. "He declared, " says Bunyan, "that he had carried himself bravely, not considering who was his foe or what was the cause in which he wasengaged. It was enough for him if he fought like a man and came offvictorious. " Nevertheless, we are told, he suffered the common doom, being crucified next day at the place of execution. It is the old fateof the freelance, the Hal o' the Wynd who fights for his own hand; forin life's contest the taking of sides is assumed to be a necessity. 

Such was Lewis's reflections when he found Wratislaw waiting for him inthe Etterick dogcart when he emerged from a meeting in Gledsmuir. Hehad now enjoyed ten days of it, and he was heartily tired. His throatwas sore with much speaking, his mind was barren with thinking on theunthinkable, and his spirits were dashed with a bitter sense offutility. He had honestly done his best. So far his conscience wasclear; but as he reviewed the past in detail, his best seemed a veryshoddy compromise. It was comfort to see the rugged face of Wratislawagain, though his greeting was tempered by mistrust. The great man hadrefused to speak for him and left him to fight his own battles;moreover, he feared the judgment of the old warrior on his conduct ofthe fight. He was acutely conscious of the joints in his armour, but hehad hoped to have decently cloaked them from others. When he heard thefirst words, "Well, Lewie, my son, you have been making a mess of it, "his heart sank. 

"I am sorry, " he said. "But how?"

"How? Why, my dear chap, you have no grip. You have let the thing getout of hand. I heard your speech to-night. It was excellent, veryclever, a beautiful piece of work, but worse than useless for yourpurpose. You forget the sort of man you are fighting. Oh, I have beenfollowing the business carefully, and I felt bound to come down to keepyou in order. To begin with, you have left your own supporters in theplace in a nice state of doubt. "

"How?"

"Why, because you have given them nothing to catch hold of. Theyexpected the ordinary Conservative confession of faith--a rosy sketch offoreign affairs, and a little gentle Socialism, and the old rhetoricabout Church and State. Instead, they are put off with epigrams andexcellent stories, and a few speculations as to the metaphysical basisof politics. Believe me, Lewie, it is only the very general liking foryour unworthy self which keeps them from going over in a body toStocks. " And Wratislaw lit a cigar and puffed furiously. 

"Then you would have me deliver the usual insincere platitudes?" saidLewis dismally. 

"I would have you do nothing of the kind. I thought you understood mypoint of view. A man like Stocks speaks his platitudes with vehemencebecause he believes in them whole-heartedly. You have also yourplatitudes to get through with, not because you would stake your soul onyour belief in them, but because they are as near as possible theinaccurate popular statement of your views, which is all that yourconstituents would understand, and you pander to the popular cravingbecause it is honest enough in itself and is for you the stepping-stoneto worthier work. "

Lewis shook his head dismally. 

"I haven't the knack of it. I seem to stand beside myself and jeer allthe while. Besides, it would be opposing complete sincerity with a veryshady substitute. That man Stocks is at least an honest fool. I methim the other day after he had been talking some atrocious nonsense. Iasked him as a joke how he could be such a humbug, and he told me quitehonestly that he believed every word; so, of course, I apologized. Hewas attacking you people on your foreign policy, and he pulled out a NewTestament and said, 'What do I read here?' It went down with manypeople, but the thing took away my breath. "

His companion looked perplexedly at the speaker. "You have had thewrong kind of education, Lewie. You have always been the spoiled child, and easily and half-unconsciously you have mastered things which theself-made man has to struggle towards with a painful conscious effort. The result is that you are a highly cultured man without any crudenessor hysteria, while the other people see things in the wrong perspectiveand run their heads against walls and make themselves miserable. Yougain a lot, but you miss one thing. You know nothing of the heart ofthe crowd. Oh, I don't mean the people about Etterick. They are yourown folk, and the whole air of the place is semi-feudal. But theweavers and artisans of the towns and the ordinary farm workers--what doyou know of them? Your precious theories are so much wind in theirears. They want the practical, the blatantly obvious, spiced with alittle emotion. Stocks knows their demands. He began among them, andat present he is but one remove from them. A garbled quotation from theScriptures or an appeal to their domestic affections is the very thingrequired. Moreover, the man understands an audience. He can bully it, you know; put on airs of sham independence to cover his real obeisance;while you are polite and deferent to hide your very obvious scorn. "

"Do you know, Tommy, I'm a coward, " Lewis broke in. "I can't face thepeople. When I see a crowd of upturned faces, crass, ignorant, unwholesome many of them, I begin to despair. I cannot begin to explainthings from the beginning; besides, they would not understand me if Idid. I feel I have nothing in common with them. They lead, most ofthem, unhealthy indoor lives, their minds are half-baked, and theirbodies half-developed. I feel a terrible pity, but all the same Icannot touch them. And then I become a coward and dare not face themand talk straight as man to man. I repeat my platitudes to the ceiling, and they go away thinking, and thinking rightly, that I am a fool. "

Wratislaw looked worried. "That is one of my complaints. The other isthat on certain occasions you cannot hold yourself in check. Do youknow you have been blackguarded in the papers lately, and that there isa violent article against you in the Critic, and all on account of someunwise utterances?"

Lewis flushed deeply. "That is the worst thing I have done, and I feelhorribly penitent. It was the act of a cad and a silly schoolboy. ButI had some provocation, Tommy. I had spoken at length amid manyinterruptions, and I was getting cross. It was at Gledfoot, and themeeting was entirely against me. Then a man got up to tackle me, not anative, but some wretched London agitator. As I looked at him--a littlechap With fiery eyes and receding brow--and heard his cockney patter, mytemper went utterly. I made a fool of him, and I abused the wholeassembly, and, funnily enough, I carried them with me. People say Ihelped my cause immensely. "

"It is possible, " said Wratislaw dryly. "The Scot has a sense of humourand has no objection to seeing his prophets put to shame. But you aregetting a nice reputation elsewhere. When I read some of your sayings, I laughed of course, but I thought ruefully of your chances. "

It was a penitent and desponding man who followed Wratislaw into thesnuggery at Etterick. But light and food, the gleam of silver andvellum and the sweet fragrance of tobacco consoled him; for in mostmatters he was half-hearted, and politics sat lightly on his affections. 

II

To Alice the weeks of the contest were filled with dire unpleasantness. Lewis, naturally, kept far from Glenavelin, while of Mr. Stocks she wasnever free. She followed Lady Manorwater's lead and canvassedvigorously, hoping to find distraction in the excitement of the fight. But her efforts did not prosper. On one occasion she found herself in acottage on the Gledsmuir road, her hands filled with electionliterature. A hale old man was sitting at his meal, who greeted hercordially, and made her sit down while she stumbled through the usualquestions and exhortations. "Are ye no' bidin' at Glenavelin?" heasked. "And have I no seen ye walking on the hill wi' Maister Lewie?"When the girl assented, he asked, with the indignation of theprivileged, "Then what for are ye sac keen this body Stocks should winin? If Maister Lewie's fond o' ye, wad it no be wiser--like to wark forhim? Poalitics! What should a woman's poalitics be but just the sameas her lad's? I hae nae opeenion o' this clash about weemen'seddication. " And with flaming cheeks the poor girl had risen and fledfrom the old reactionary. 

The incident burned into her mind, and she was wretched with the anomalyof her position. A dawning respect for her rejected lover began to risein her heart. The first of his meetings which she attended hadimpressed her with his skill in his own vocation. He had held thosepeople interested. He had spoken bluntly, strongly, honestly. To fewwomen is it given to distinguish the subtle shades of sincerity inspeech, and to the rule Alice was no exception. The rhetoric and thecheers which followed had roused the speaker to a new life. His facebecame keen, almost attractive, without question full of power. He wasan orator beyond doubt, and when he concluded in a riot of applause, Alice sat with small hands clenched and eyes shining with delight. Hehad spoken the main articles of her creed, but with what force andfreshness! She was convinced, satisfied, delighted; though somewhere inher thought lurked her old dislike of the man and the memory of another. 

As ill-luck would have it, the next night she went to hear Lewis inGledsmuir, when that young gentleman was at his worst. She wentunattended, being a fearless young woman, and consequently found herselfin the very back of the hall crowded among some vehement politicians. The audience, to begin with, was not unkind. Lewis was greeted withapplause, and at the first heard with patience. But his speech wasvague, incoherent, and tactless. To her unquiet eyes he seemed to beafraid of the men before him. Every phrase was guarded with a proviso, and "possiblys" bristled in every sentence. The politicians at the backgrew restless, and Alice was compelled to listen to their short, scathing criticisms. Soon the meeting was hopelessly out of hand. Menrose and rudely marched to the door. Catcalls were frequent from thecorners, and the back of the hall became aggressive. The girl had satwith white, pained face, understanding little save that Lewis wastalking nonsense and losing all grip on his hearers. In spite ofherself she was contrasting this fiasco with the pithy words of Mr. Stocks. When the meeting became unruly she looked for some display ofcharacter, some proof of power. Mr. Stocks would have fiercely cowedthe opposition, or at least have spoken the last word in any quarrel. Lewis's conduct was different. He shrugged his shoulders, made somelaughing remark to a friend on the platform, and with all thenonchalance in the world asked the meeting if they wished to hear anymore. A claque of his supporters replied with feigned enthusiasm, but amalcontent at Alice's side rose and stamped to the door. "I came tohear sense, " he cried, "and no this bairn's-blethers!"

The poor girl was in despair. She had fancied him a man of power andambition, a doer, a man of action. But he was no more than a creatureof words and sentiment, graceful manners, and an engaging appearance. The despised Mr. Stocks was the real worker. She had laughed at hisincessant solemnity as the badge of a fool, and adored Lewis'slight-heartedness as the true air of the great. But she had beenmistaken. Things were what they seemed. The light-hearted was thehalf-hearted, "the wandering dilettante, " Mr. Stocks had called him, "the worst type of the pseudo-culture of our universities. " She toldherself she hated the whole affectation of breeding and chivalry. Thosemen--Lewis and his friends--were always kind and soft-spoken to her andher sex. Her soul hated it; she cried aloud for equal treatment, for ashare of the iron and rigour of life. Their manners were a mere cloakfor contempt. If they could only be rude to a woman, it would be awelcome relief from this facile condescension. What had she or anywoman with brains to do in that galley? They despised her kind, withthe scorn of sultans who chose their women-folk for looks and graces. The thought was degrading, and a bitterness filled her heart against thewhole clique of easy aristocrats. Mr. Stocks was her true ally. Tohim she was a woman, an equal; to them she was an engaging child, adelicate toy. 

So far she went in her heresy, but no farther. It is a true saying thatyou will find twenty heroic women before you may meet one generous one;but Alice was not wholly without this rarest of qualities. The memoryof a frank voice, very honest grey eyes, and a robust cheerfulnessbrought back some affection for the erring Lewis. The problem wasbeyond her reconciling efforts, so the poor girl, torn between commonsense and feeling, and recognizing with painful clearness the complexityof life, found refuge in secret tears. 

III

The honours of the contest, so far as Lewis's party was concerned, fellto George Winterham, and this was the fashion of the event. He had beendragged reluctantly into the thing, foreseeing dire disaster forhimself, for he knew little and cared less about matters political, though he was ready enough at a pinch to place his ignorance at hisfriend's disposal. So he had been set to the dreary work ofcommittee-rooms; and then, since his manners were not unpleasing, dispatched as aide-de-camp to any chance orator who enlivened thecounty. But at last a crisis arrived in which other use was made ofhim. A speaker of some pretensions had been announced for a certainnight at the considerable village of Allerfoot. The great man failed, and as it was the very eve of the election none could be found for hisplace. Lewis was in despair, till he thought of George. It was adesperate chance, but the necessity was urgent, so, shutting himself upfor an hour, he wrote the better part of a speech which he entrusted tohis friend to prepare. George, having a good memory, laboriouslylearned it by heart, and clutching the friendly paper andwhole-heartedly abusing his chief, he set out grimly to his fate. 

Promptly at the hour of eight he was deposited at the door of theMasonic Hail in Allerfoot. The place seemed full, and a nervouschairman was hovering around the gate. News of the great man'sdefection had already been received, and he was in the extremes ofnervousness. He greeted George as a saviour, and led him inside, wheresome three hundred people crowded a small whitewashed building. Thevillage of Allerfoot itself is a little place, but it is the centre of awide pastoral district, and the folk assembled were brown-faced herdsand keepers from the hills, plough-men from the flats of Glen Aller, afew fishermen from the near sea-coast, as well as the normal inhabitantsof the village. 

George was wretchedly nervous and sat in a cold sweat while the chairmanexplained that the great Mr. S---- deeply regretted that at the lastmoment he was unfortunately compelled to break so important anengagement, but that he had sent in his stead Mr. George Winterham, whose name was well known as a distinguished Oxford scholar and a risingbarrister. George, who had been ploughed twice for Smalls and hadeventually taken a pass degree, and to whom the law courts were nearlyas unknown as the Pyramids, groaned inwardly at the astounding news. The audience might have been a turnip field for all the personality itpossessed for him. He heard their applause as the chairman sat downmopping his brow, and he rose to his feet conscious that he was smilinglike an idiot. He made some introductory remarks of his own--that "hewas sorry the other chap hadn't turned up, that he was happy to have theprivilege of expounding to them his views on this great subject "--andthen with an ominous sinking of heart plucked forth his papers andlaunched into the unknown. 

The better part of the speech was wiped clean from his memory at thestart, so he had to lean heavily on the written word. He read rapidlybut without intelligence. Now and again a faint cheer would break theeven flow, and he would look up for a moment with startled eyes, only togo off again with quickened speed. He found himself talking neatparadoxes which he did not understand, and speaking glibly of nameswhich to him were no more than echoes. Eventually he came to an end atleast twenty minutes before a normal political speech should close, andsat down, hot and perplexed, with a horrible sense of having made a foolof himself. 

The chairman, no less perplexed, made the usual remarks and then calledfor questions, for the time had to be filled in somehow. The words leftGeorge aghast. The wretched man looked forward to raw public shame. His ignorance would be exposed, his presumption laid bare, his pridethrown in the dust. He nerved himself for a despairing effort. Hewould brazen things out as far as possible; afterwards, let the heavensfall. 

An old minister rose and asked in a thin ancient voice what theGovernment had done for the protection of missionaries inKhass-Kotannun. Was he, Mr. Winterham, aware that our missionaries inthat distant land had been compelled to wear native dress by thearrogant chiefs, and so fallen victims to numerous chills and epidemics?

George replied that he considered the treatment abominable, believedthat the matter occupied the mind of the Foreign Office night and day, and would be glad personally to subscribe to any relief fund. The goodman declared himself satisfied, and St. Sebastian breathed freelyagain. 

A sturdy man in homespun rose to discover the Government's intention onChurch matters. Did the speaker ken that on his small holding he paidten pound sterling in tithes, though he himself did not hold with theEstablishment, being a Reformed Presbyterian? The Laodicean George saidhe did not understand the differences, but that it seemed to him aconfounded shame, and he would undertake that Mr. Haystoun, ifreturned, would take immediate steps in the matter. 

So far he had done well, but with the next question he betrayed hisignorance. A good man arose, also hot on Church affairs, to discourseon some disabilities, and casually described himself as a U. P. George'swits busied themselves in guessing at the mystic sign. At last to hisdelight he seemed to achieve it, and, in replying, electrified hisaudience by assuming that the two letters stood for UnreformedPresbyterian. 

But the meeting was in good humour in spite of his incomprehensibleaddress and unsatisfying answers, till a small section of the youngbloods of the opposite party, who had come to disturb, felt that thispeace must be put an end to. Mr. Samuel M'Turk, lawyer's clerk, whohailed from the west country and betrayed his origin in his speech, roseamid some applause from his admirers to discomfit George. He was ayoung man with a long, sallow face, carefully oiled and parted hair, anda resonant taste in dress. A bundle of papers graced his hand, and hisair was parliamentary. 

"Wis Mister Winterham aware that Mister Haystoun had contradictedhimself on two occasions lately, as he would proceed to show?"

George heard him patiently, said that now he was aware of the fact, butcouldn't for the life of him see what the deuce it mattered. 

"After Mister Winterham's ignoring of my pint, " went on the young man, "I proceed to show . . . " and with all the calmness in the world hedisplayed to his own satisfaction how Mr. Lewis Haystoun was no fitperson to represent the constituency. He profaned the Sabbath, whichthis gentleman professed to hold dear, he was notorious for drunkenness, and his conduct abroad had not been above suspicion. 

George was on his feet in a moment, his confusion gone, his face veryred, and his shoulders squared for a fight. The man saw the effect ofhis words, and promptly sat down. 

"Get up, " said George abruptly. 

The man's face whitened and he shrank back among his friends. 

"Get up; up higher--on the top of the seat, that everybody may see andhear you! Now repeat very carefully all that over again. "

The man's confidence had deserted him. He stammered something aboutmeaning no harm. 

"You called my friend a drunken blackguard. I am going to hear theaccusation in detail. " George stood up to his full height, a terriblefigure to the shrinking clerk, who repeated his former words with afaltering tongue. 

He heard him out quietly, and then stared coolly down on the people. Hefelt himself master of the situation. The enemy had played into hishands, and in the shape of a sweating clerk sat waiting on his action. 

"You have heard what this man has to tell you. I ask you as men, asfolk of this countryside, if it is true?"

It was the real speech of the evening, which was all along waiting to bedelivered instead of the frigid pedantries on the paper. A man wasspeaking simply, valiantly, on behalf of his friend. It was cunninglydone, with the natural tact which rarely deserts the truly honest man inhis hour of extremity. He spoke of Lewis as he had known him, at schooland college and in many wild sporting expeditions in desert places, andslowly the people kindled and listened. Then, so to speak, he kickedaway the scaffolding of his erection. He ceased to be the apologist, and became the frank eulogist. He stood squarely on the edge of theplatform, gathering the eyes of his hearers, smiling pleasantly, armsakimbo, a man at his ease and possibly at his pleasure. 

"Some of you are herds, " he cried, "and some are fishers, and some arefarmers, and some are labourers. Also some of you call yourselvesRadicals or Tories or Socialists. But you are all of you far more thanthese things. You are men--men of this great countryside, with blood inyour veins and vigour in that blood. If you were a set of pale-facedmechanics, I should not be speaking to you, for I should not understandyou. But I know you all, and I like you, and I am going to prevent youfrom making godless fools of yourselves. There are two men before you. One is a very clever man, whom I don't know anything about, nor youeither. The other is my best friend, and known to all of you. Many ofyou have shot or sailed with him, many of you were born on his and hisfathers' lands. I have told you of his abilities and quoted betterjudges than myself. I don't need to tell you that he is the best ofmen, a sportsman, a kind master, a very good fellow indeed. You canmake up your mind between the two. Opinions matter very little, butgood men are too scarce to be neglected. Why, you fools, " he cried withboisterous good humour, "I should back Lewis if he were a Mohammedan oran Anarchist. The man is sound metal, I tell you, and that's all Iask. "

It was a very young man's confession of faith, but it was enough. Themeeting went with him almost to a man. A roar of applause greeted thesmiling orator, and when he sat down with flushed face, bright eyes, anda consciousness of having done his duty, John Sanderson, herd in NetherCallowa, rose to move a vote of confidence:

"That this assembly is of opinion that Maister Lewis Haystoun is a guidman, and sae is our friend Maister Winterham, and we'll send Lewie backto Parliament or be--"

It was duly seconded and carried with acclamation. 

CHAPTER XI

THE PRIDE BEFORE A FALL

The result of the election was announced in Gledsmuir on the nextWednesday evening, and carried surprise to all save Lewis's nearerfriends. For Mr. Albert Stocks was duly returned member for theconstituency by a majority of seventy votes. The defeated candidatereceived the news with great composure, addressed some good-humouredwords to the people, had a generous greeting for his opponent, and methis committee with a smiling face. But his heart was sick within him, and as soon as he decently might be escaped from the turmoil, found hishorse, and set off up Glenavelin for his own dwelling. 

He had been defeated, and the fact, however confidently looked for, comes with a bitter freshness to every man. He had lost a seat for hisparty-that in itself was bad. But he had proved himself incompetent, unadaptable, a stick, a pedantic incapable. A dozen stings rankled inhis soul. Alice would be justified of her suspicions. Where would hisplace be now in that small imperious heart? His own people had forsakenhim for a gross and unlikely substitute, and he had been wrong in hisestimate alike of ally and enemy. Above all came that crueleststab--what would Wratislaw think of it? He had disgraced himself in theeyes of his friend. He who had made a fetish of competence hadmanifestly proved wanting; he who had loved to think of himself as thebold, opportune man, had shown himself formal and hidebound. 

As he passed Glenavelin among the trees the thought of Alice was a sharppang of regret. He could never more lift his eyes in that young andradiant presence. He pictured the successful Stocks welcomed by her, and words of praise for which he would have given his immortal soul, meted out lavishly to that owl-like being. It was a dismal business, and ruefully, but half-humorously, he caught at the paradox of his fate. 

Through the swiftly failing darkness the inn of Etterick rose beforehim, a place a little apart from the village street. A noise of talkfloated from the kitchen and made him halt at the door and dismount. The place would be full of folk discussing the election, and he would goin among them and learn the worst opinion which men might have of him. After all, they were his own people, who had known him in his power asthey now saw him in his weakness. If he had failed he was not whollyfoolish; they knew his few redeeming virtues, and they would begenerous. 

The talk stopped short as he entered, and he saw through the tobaccoreek half a dozen lengthy faces wearing the air of solemnity which thehillman adopts in his pleasures. They were all his own herds andkeepers, save two whom he knew for foresters from Glenavelin. He wasrecognized at once, and with a general nervous shuffling they began tomake room for the laird at the table. He cried a hasty greeting to all, and sat down between a black-bearded giant, whose clothes smelt ofsheep, and a red-haired man from one of the remoter glens. The notionof the thing pleased him, and he ordered drinks for each with a lavishcarelessness. He asked for a match for his pipe, and the man who gaveit wore a decent melancholy on his face and shook his head with unction. 

"This is a bad job, Lewie, " he said, using the privileged name of theancient servant. "Whae would have ettled sic a calaamity to happen inyour ain countryside? We a' thocht it would be a grand pioy for ye, forye would settle down here and hae nae mair foreign stravaigins. Andthen this tailor body steps in and spoils a'. It's maist vexaatious. "

"It was a good fight, and he beat me fairly; but we'll drop the matter. I'm sick--tired of politics, Adam. If I had been a better man theymight have made a herd of me, and I should have been happy. "

"Wheesht, Lewie, " said the man, grinning. "A herd's job is no for thelikes o' you. But there's better wark waiting for ye than poalitics. It's a beggar's trade after a', and far better left to bagman bodieslike yon Stocks. It's a puir thing for sac proper a man as you. "

"But what can I do?" cried Lewis in despair. "I have no profession. Iam useless. "

"Useless! Ye are a grand judge o' sheep and nowt, and ye ken a horsebetter than ony couper. Ye can ride like a jockey and drive like aJehu, and there's no your equal in these parts with a gun or afishing-rod. Forbye, I would rather walk ae mile on the hill wi' yethan twae, for ye gang up a brae-face like a mawkin! God! There's no asingle man's trade that ye're no brawly fitted for. And then ye've aheap o' book-lear that folk learned ye away about England, though Icannot speak muckle on that, no being a jidge. "

Lewis grinned at the portraiture. "You do me proud. But let's talkabout serious things. You were on sheep when I came in. Get back tothem and give me your mind on Cheviots. The lamb sales promise well. "

For twenty minutes the room hummed with technicalities. One man mightsupport the conversation on alien matters, but on sheep the humblestfound a voice: Lewis watched the ring of faces with a sharp delight. The election had made him sick of his fellows--fellows who chattered andwrangled and wallowed in the sentimental. But now every line of thesebrown faces, the keen blue eyes, the tawny, tangled beards, and theinimitable soft-sounding southern speech, seemed an earnest of a realand strenuous life. He began to find a new savour in existence. Thesense of his flat incompetence left him, and he found himself speakingheartily and laughing with zest. 

"It's as I say, " said the herd of the Redswirebead. "I'm getting anauld man and a verra wise ane, and the graund owercome for the world isjust 'Pay no attention. ' Ye'll has heard how the word cam' to be. Itwas Jock Linklater o' the Caulds wha was glen notice to quit by thelaird, and a' the countryside was vexed to pairt wi' Jock, for he was apopular character. But about a year after a friend meets him atGledsmuir merkit as crouse as ever. 'Lodsake, Jock, man, I thocht yewere awa', ' says he. 'No, ' says Jock, 'no. I'm here as ye see. ' 'Buthow did ye manage it?' he asked. 'Fine, ' says Jock. 'They sent me aletter tellin' me I must gang; but I just payed no attention. Syne theysent me a blue letter frae the lawyer's, but I payed no attention. Synethe factor cam' to see me. ' 'Ay, and what did ye do then, Jock?' sayshe. 'Oh, I payed no attention. Syne the laird cam' himsel. ' 'Ay, thatwould fricht ye, ' he says. 'No, no a grain, ' said Jock, verra calm. 'Ijust payed no attention, and here I am. '"

Lewis laughed, but the rest of the audience suffered no change offeature. The gloaming bad darkened, and the little small-paned windowwas a fretted sheet of dark and lucent blue. Grateful odours of foodand drink and tobacco hung in the air, though tar and homespun and thefar-carried fragrance of peat fought stoutly for the mastery. 

One man fell to telling of a fox-hunt, when he lay on the hill for thenight and shot five of the destroyers of his flock before the morning, it was the sign--and the hour--for stories of many kinds--tales ofweather and adventure, humorous lowland escapades and dismal mountainrealities. Or stranger still, there would come the odd, half-believedlegends of the glen, told shamefully yet with the realism of men forwhom each word had a power and meaning far above fiction. Lewislistened entranced, marking his interest now by an exclamation, andagain by a question. 

The herd of Farawa told of the salmon, the king of the Aller salmon, whoswam to the head of Aller and then crossed the spit of land to the headof Callowa to meet the king of the Callowa fish. It was a humorousstory, and was capped there and then by his cousin of the Dreichill, whotold a ghastly tale of a murder in the wilds. Then a lonely man, Simono' the Heid o' the Hope, glorified his powers on a January night when heswung himself on a flood-gate over the Aller while the thing quiveredbeneath him, and the water roared redly above his thighs. 

"And that yett broke when I was three pairts ower, and I went down theriver with my feet tangled in the bars and nae room for sweemin'. But Igripped an oak-ritt and stelled mysel' for an hour till the waterknockit the yett to sawdust. It broke baith my ankles, and though I'm amortal strong man in my arms, thae twisted kitts keepit me helpless. When a man's feet are broke he has nae strength in his wrist. "

"I know, " said Lewis, with excitement. "I have found the same myself. "

"Where?" asked the man, without rudeness. 

"Once on the Skifso when I was after salmon, and once in the Doorabhills above Abjela. "

"Were ye sick when they rescued ye? I was. I had twae muscles sprungon my arm, but that was naething to the retching and dizziness when theylaid me on the heather. Jock Jeffrey was bending ower me, and though hewasna touching me I began to suffocate, and yet I was ower weak to cryout and had to thole it. "

"I know. If you hang up in the void for a little and get the feeling ofgreat space burned on your mind, you nearly die of choking when you arepulled up. Fancy you knowing about that. "

"Have you suffered it, Maister Lewie?" said the man. 

"Once. There was a gully in the Doorabs just like the Scarts o' theMuneraw, only twenty times deeper, and there was a bridge of tree-trunksbound with ropes across it. We all got over except one mule and acouple of men. They were just getting off when a trunk slipped anddangled down into the abyss with one end held up by the ropes. The pooranimal went plumb to the bottom; we heard it first thud on a jag of rockand then, an age after, splash in the water. One of the men went withit, but the other got his legs caught between the ropes and the tree andmanaged to hang on. The poor beggar was helpless with fright; and hesquealed--great heavens! how he did squeal!"

"And what did ye dae?" asked a breathless audience. 

"I went down after him. I had to, for I was his master, and besides, Iwas a bit of an athlete then. I cried to him to hang on and not lookdown. I clambered down the swaying trunk while my people held the ropesat the top, and when I got near the man I saw what bad happened. 

"He had twisted his ankles in the fall, and though he had got them outof the ropes, yet they hung loose and quite obviously broken. I got asnear him as I could, and leaned over, and I remember seeing throughbelow his armpits the blue of the stream six hundred feet down. It mademe rather sick with my job, and when I called him to pull himself up abit till I could grip him I thought he was helpless with the samefright. But it turned out that I had misjudged him. He bad no power inhis arms, simply the dead strength to hang on. I was in a nice fix, forI could lower myself no farther without slipping into space. Then Ithought of a dodge. I got a good grip of the rope and let my legsdangle down till they were level with his hands. I told him to try andchange his grip and catch my ankles. He did it, somehow or other, andby George! the first shock of his weight nearly ended me, for he was aheavy man. However, I managed to pull myself up a yard or two and thenI could reach down and catch his arms. We both got up somehow or other, but it took a devilish time, and when they laid us both on the groundand came round like fools with brandy I thought I should choke and hadscarcely strength to swear at them to get out. "

The assembly had listened intently, catching its breath with a sharp_risp_ as all outdoor folks will do when they hear of an escapade whichstrikes their fancy. One man--a stranger--hammered his empty pipe-bowlon the table in applause. 

"Whae was the man, d'ye say?" he asked. "A neeger?"

Lewis laughed. "Not a nigger most certainly, though he had a brownface. "

"And ye risked your life for a black o' some kind? Man, ye must beawfu' fond o' your fellow men. Wad ye dae the same for the likes o' us?

"Surely. For one of my own folk! But it was really a very smallthing. "

"Then I have just ae thing to say, " said the brown-bearded man. "I amwhat ye cal a Raadical, and yestreen I recorded my vote for yon manStocks. He crackit a lot about the rights o' man--as man, and I was wi'him. But I tell ye that you yoursel' have a better notion o' humankindness than ony Stocks, and though ye're no o' my party, yet Iherewith propose a vote o' confidence in Maister Lewis Haystoun. "

The health was drunk solemnly yet with gusto, and under cover of itLewis fled out of doors. His despondency had passed, and a fit offierce exhilaration had seized him. Men still swore by his name; he wasstill loved by his own folk; small matter to him if a townsman haddefeated him. He was no vain talker, but a doer, a sportsman, anadventurer. This was his true career. Let others have the applause ofexcited indoor folk or dull visionaries; for him a man's path, a man'swork, and a man's commendation. 

The moon was up, riding high in a shoreless sea of blue, and in thestill weather the streams called to each other from the mountain sides, as in some fantastic cosmic harmony. High on the ridge shoulder thelights of Etterick twinkled starlike amid the fretted veil of trees. Asense of extraordinary and crazy exhilaration, the recoil from theconstraint of weeks, laid hold on his spirit. He hummed a dozenfragments of song, and at times would laugh with the pure pleasure oflife. The quixotic, the generous, the hopeless, the successful;laughter and tears; death and birth; the warm hearth and the openroad--all seemed blent for the moment into one great zest for living. "I'll to Lochiel and Appin and kneel to them, " he was humming aloud, when suddenly his bridle was caught and a man's hand was at his knee. 

"Lewie, " cried Wratislaw, "gracious, man! have you been drinking?" Andthen seeing the truth, he let go the bridle, put an arm through thestirrup leathers, and walked by the horse's side. "So that's the wayyou take it, old chap? Do you know that you are a discredited anddefeated man? and yet I find you whistling like a boy. I have hopesfor you, Lewie. You have the Buoyant Heart, and with that nothing canmuch matter. But, confound it! you are hours late for dinner. "

CHAPTER XII

PASTORAL AND TRAGEDY

The news of the election, brought to Glenavelin by a couple of raggedrunners, had a different result from that forecast by Lewis. Aliceheard it with a heart unquickened; and when, an hour after, the flushed, triumphant Mr. Stocks arrived in person to claim the meed of success, he was greeted with a painful carelessness. Lady Manorwater had beenloud in her laments for her nephew, but to Mr. Stocks she gave thehonest praise which a warm-hearted woman cannot withhold from thefighter. 

"Our principles have won, " she cried. "Now who will call the place aTory stronghold? Oh, Mr. Stocks, you have done wonderfully, and I amvery glad. I'm not a bit sorry for Lewis, for he well deserved hisbeating. "

But with Alice there could be neither pleasure nor its simulation. Herterrible honesty forbade her the easy path of false congratulations. She bit her lip till tears filled her eyes. What was this wretchedposition into which she had strayed? Lewis was all she had feared, buthe was Lewis, and far more than any bundle of perfections. A hot, passionate craving for his presence was blinding her to reason. Andthis man who had won--this, the fortunate politician--she cared for himnot a straw. A strong dislike began to grow in her heart to theblameless Mr. Stocks. 

Dinner that night was a weary meal to the girl. Lady Manorwaterprattled about the day's events, and Lord Manorwater, hopelessly bored, ate his food in silence. The lively Bertha had gone to bed with aheadache, and the younger Miss Afflint was the receptacle for the momentof her hostess's confidences. Alice sat between Mr. Stocks and Arthur, facing a tall man with a small head and immaculate hair who had riddenover to dine and sleep. One of the two had the wisdom to see her humourand keep silent, though the thought plunged him into a sea of uglyreflections. It would be hard if, now that things were going well withhim, the lady alone should prove obdurate. For in all this politician'sdaydreams a dainty figure walked by his side, sat at his table's head, received his friends, fascinated austere ministers, and filled his pipeof an evening at home. 

Arthur was silent, and to him the lady turned in vain. He treated herwith an elaborate politeness which sat ill on his brusque manners, andfor the most part showed no desire to enliven the prevailing dulness. But after dinner he carried her off to the gardens on the plea of freshair and a fine sunset, and the girl, who liked the boy, went gladly. Then the reason of his silence was made plain. He dismayed her bybecoming lovesick. 

"Tell me your age, Alice, " he implored. 

"I am twenty at Christmas time, " said the girl, amazed at the question. 

"And I am seventeen or very nearly that. Men sometimes marry womenolder than themselves, and I don't see why I shouldn't. Oh, Alice, promise that you will marry me. I never met a girl I liked so much, andI am sure we should be happy. "

"I am sure we should, " said the girl, laughing. "You silly boy! whatput such nonsense in your head? I am far too old for you, and though Ilike you very much, I don't in the least want to marry you. " She seemedto herself to have got out of a sober world into a sort of MadTea-party, where people behaved like pantaloons and spoke in conundrums. 

The boy flushed and his eyes grew cross. "Is it somebody else?" heasked; at which the girl, with a memory of Mr. Stocks, reflected on thedreadful monotony of men's ways. 

A solution flashed upon his brain. "Are you going to marry LewieHaystoun?" he cried in a more cheerful voice. After all, Lewis was hiscousin, and a worthy rival. 

Alice grew hotly uncomfortable. "I am not going to marry Mr. LewisHaystoun, and I am not going to talk to you any more. " And she turnedround with a flaming face to the cool depths of the wood. 

"Then it is that fellow Stocks. Oh, Lord!" groaned Arthur, irritatedinto bad manners. "You can't mean it, Alice. He's not fit to blackyour boots. "

Some foolish impulse roused the girl to reply. She defended the veryman against whom all the evening she had been unreasonably bitter. "Youhave no right to abuse him. He is your people's guest and a verydistinguished man, and you are only a foolish boy. "

He paled below his sunburn. Now he believed the truth of the horridsuspicion which had been fastening on his mind. "But--but, " hestammered, "the chap isn't a gentleman, you know. "

The words quickened her vexation. A gentleman! The cant word, thefetish of this ring of idle aristocrats--she knew the hollowness of thewhole farce. The democrat in her made her walk off with erect head andbright eyes, leaving a penitent boy behind; while all the time a sick, longing heart drove her to the edge of tears. 

The days dragged slowly for the girl. The brightness had gone out ofthe wide, airy landscape, and the warm August days seemed chill. Shehated herself for the wrong impression she had left on the boy Arthur'smind, but she was too proud to seek to erase it; she could but trust tohis honour for silence. If Lewis heard--the thought was too terrible toface! He would resign himself to the inevitable; she knew the temper ofthe man. Good form was his divinity, and never by word or look would heattempt to win another man's betrothed. She must see him and learn thetruth: but he came no more to Glenavelin, and Etterick was a far cry fora girl's fancy. Besides, the Twelfth had come and the noise of guns onevery hill spoke of other interests for the party at Etterick. Lewishad forgotten his misfortunes, she told herself, and in the easy way ofthe half-hearted found in bodily fatigue a drug for a mind but little inneed of it. 

One afternoon Lady Manorwater came over the lawn waving a letter. "Doyou want to go and picnic to-morrow, Alice?" she cried. "Lewis is tobe shooting on the moors at the head of the Avelin, and he wants us tocome and lunch at the Pool of Ness. He wants the whole party to come, particularly Mr. Stocks, and he wants to know if you have forgiven him. What can the boy mean?"

As the cheerful little lady paused, Alice's heart beat till she fearedbetrayal. A sudden fierce pleasure burned in her veins. Did he stillseek her good opinion? Was he, as well as herself, miserable alone?And then came like a stab the thought that he had joined her withStocks. Did he class her with that alien world of prigs and dullards?She ceased to think, and avoiding her hostess and tea, ran over thewooden bridge to the slope of hill and climbed up among the red heather. 

A month ago she had been heart-whole and young, a simple child. Thesame prejudices and generous beliefs had been hers, but held looselywith a child's comprehension. But now this old world had been awakenedto arms against a dazzling new world of love and pleasure. She was ledcaptive by emotion, but the cold rook of scruple remained. She had readof women surrendering all for love, but she felt dismally that thishappy gift had been denied her. Criticism, a fierce, vulgar antagonism, impervious to sentiment, not to be exorcised by generous impulse--suchwas her unlovely inheritance. 

As she leaned over a pool of clear brown water in a little burn, wherescented ferns dipped and great rocks of brake and heather shadowed, shesaw her face and figure mirrored in every colour and line. Herextraordinary prettiness delighted her, and then she laughed at her ownvanity. A lady of the pools, with the dark eyes and red-gold hair ofthe north, surely a creature of dawn and the blue sky, and born for nodreary self-communings. She returned, with her eyes clear and somethinglike laughter in her heart. To-morrow she should see him, to-morrow!

It was the utter burning silence of midday, when the man who toils losesthe skin of his face, and the man who rests tastes the joys of deepleisure. The blue, airless sky, the level hilltops, the straight linesof glen, the treeless horizon of the moors--no sharp ridge or cliffcaught the tired eye, only an even, sleep-lulled harmony. Five veryhungry, thirsty, and wearied men lay in the shadow above the Pool ofNess, and prayed heaven for luncheon. 

Lewis and George, Wratislaw and Arthur Mordaunt were there, and DoctorGracey, who loved a day on the hills. The keepers sat farther up theslope smoking their master's tobacco--sure sign of a well-spent morning. For the party had been on the moors by eight, and for five burning hourshad tramped the heather. All wore light and airy shooting-clothes savethe doctor, who had merely buckled gaiters over his professional blacktrousers. All were burned to a tawny brown, and all lay in differentattitudes of gasping ease. Few things so clearly proclaim a man's pastas his posture when lounging. Arthur and Wratislaw lay, like townsmen, prone on their faces with limbs rigidly straight. Lewis and George--oldcampaigners both--lay a little on the side, arms lying loosely, andknees a little bent. But one and all gasped, and swore softly at theweather. 

"Turn round, Tommy, " said George, glancing up, "or you'll get sunstrokeat the back of the neck. I've had it twice, so I ought to know. Youwant to wet your handkerchief and put it below your cap. Why don't youwear a deer-stalker instead of that hideous jockey thing? Feugh, I amwarm and cross and thirsty. Lewis, I'll give your aunt five minutes, and then I shall go down and drink that pool dry. "

Lewis sat up and watched the narrow ribbon of road which coiled up theglen to the pool's edge. He only saw some hundreds of yards down it, but the prospect served to convince him that his erratic aunt was late. 

"If my wishes had any effect, " said George, "at this moment I should behaving iced champagne. " And he cast a longing eye to the hampers. 

"You won't get any, " said Lewis. "We are not sybarites in thisglen, and our drinks are the drinks of simple folk. Do youremember Cranstoun? I once went stalking with him, and we had_pate-de-foie-gras_ for luncheon away up on the side of a ruggedmountain. That sort of thing sets my teeth on edge. "

"Honest man!" cried George. "But here are your friends, and you hadbetter stir yourself and make them welcome. "

Five very cool and leisurely beings were coming up the hill-path, for, having driven to above the village, they had had an easy walk ofscarcely half a mile. Lewis's eye sought out a slight figure behind theothers, a mere gleam of pink and white. As she stepped out from thepath to the heather his eye was quick to seize her exquisite grace. Other women arrayed themselves in loose and floating raiment, ribbonsand what not; but here was one who knew her daintiness, and made noeffort to cloak it. Trim, cool, and sweet, the coils of bright hairabove the white frock catching the noon sun--surely a lady to pray forand toil for, one made for no facile wooing or easy conquest. 

Lewis advanced to Mr. Stocks as soon as he had welcomed his aunt, andshook hands cordially. "We seem to have lost sight of each other duringthe last few days. I never congratulated you enough, but you probablyunderstood that my head was full of other things. You foughtsplendidly, and I can't say I regret the issue. You will do much betterthan I ever could. "

Mr. Stocks smiled happily. The wheel of his fortunes was bringing himvery near the top. All the way up he had had Alice for a companion; andthat young woman, happy from a wholly different cause, had beenwonderfully gracious. He felt himself on Mr. Lewis Haystoun's level atlast, and the baffling sense of being on a different plane, which he hadalways experienced in his company, was gone, he hoped, for ever. So hebecame frank and confidential, forgot the pomp of his talk and hisinevitable principles, and assisted in laying lunch. 

Lady Manorwater drove her nephew into a corner. 

"Where have you been. Lewis, all these days? If you had been anybodyelse, I should have said you were sulking. I must speak to youseriously. Do you know that Alice has been breaking her heart for you?I won't have the poor child made miserable, and though I don't in theleast want you to marry her, yet; I cannot have you playing with her. "

Lewis had grown suddenly very red. 

"I think you are mistaken, " he said stiffly. "Miss Wishart does notcare a straw for me. If she is in love with anybody, it is withStocks. "

"I am much older than you, my dear, and I should know better. I may aswell confess that I hoped it would be Mr. Stocks, but I can'tdisbelieve my own eyes. The child becomes wretched whenever she hearsyour name. "

"You are making me miserably unhappy, because I can't believe a word ofit. I have made a howling fool of myself lately, and I can't be blindto what she thinks of me. "

Lady Manorwater looked pathetic. "Is the great Lewis ashamed ofhimself?"

"Not a bit. I would do it again, for it is my nature to, as the hymnsays. I am cut all the wrong way, and my mind is my mind, you know. But I can't expect Miss Wishart to take that point of view. "

His aunt shook a hopeless head. "Your moral nature is warped, my dear. It has always been the same since you were a very small boy atGlenavelin, and read the Holy War on the hearthrug. You could never bemade to admire Emmanuel and his captains, but you set your heart on thereprobates Jolly and Griggish. But get away and look after your guests, sir. "

Lunch came just in time to save five hungry men from an undignified end. The Glenavelin party looked on with amusement as the ravenous appetiteswere satisfied. Mr. Stocks, in a huge good humour, talked discursivelyof sport. He inquired concerning the morning's bag, and called upreminiscences of friends who had equalled or exceeded it. Lewis wasuncomfortable, for he felt that in common civility Mr. Stocks shouldhave been asked to shoot. He could not excuse himself with the plea ofan unintentional omission, for he had heard reports of the gentleman'swonderful awkwardness with a gun, and he had not found it in his heartto spoil the sport of five keen and competent hands. 

He dared not look at Alice, for his aunt's words had set his pulsesbeating hotly. For the last week he had wrestled with himself, tellinghis heart that this lady was beyond his ken for ever and a day, for hebelonged by nature to the clan of despondent lovers. Before, she hadhad all the icy reserve, he all the fervours. The hint of some spark offire behind the snows of her demeanour filled him with a delirious joy. Every movement of her body pleased him, every word which she spoke, theblitheness of her air and the ready kindness. The pale, pretty Afflintgirls, with their wit and their confidence, seemed old and womanlycompared with Alice. Let simplicity be his goddesshenceforth--simplicity and youth. 

The Pool of Ness is a great, black cauldron of clear water, with berriesabove and berries below, and high crags red with heather. There you mayfind shade in summer, and great blaeberries and ripening rowans in thewane of August. These last were the snare for Alice, who was ever anadventurer. For the moment she was the schoolgirl again, and all sordidelderly cares were tossed to the wind. She teased Doctor Gracey to thatworthy's delight, and she bade George and Arthur fetch and carry in away that made them her slaves for life. Then she unbent to Mr. Stocksand made him follow her out on a peninsula of rock, above which hung agreat cluster of fruit. The unfortunate politician was not built forthis kind of exercise, and slipped and clung despairingly to every rootand cleft. Lewis followed aimlessly: her gaiety did not fit with hismood; and he longed to have her to himself and know his fortune. 

He passed the panting Stocks and came up with the errant lady. 

"For heaven's sake be careful, Miss Wishart, " he cried in alarm. "That's an ugly black swirl down there. "

The girl laughed in his face. 

"Isn't the place glorious!" she cried. "It's as cool as winter, andoh! the colours of that hillside. I'm going up to that birk-tree tosit. Do you think I can do it?"

"I am coming up after you, " said Lewis. 

She stopped and regarded it with serious eyes. "It's hard, but I'mgoing to try. It's 'harder than the Midburn that I climbed up on theday I saw you fishing. "

She remembered! Joy caught at his heart, and he laughed so gladly thatAlice turned round to look at him. Something in his eyes made her turnher head away and scan the birk-tree again. 

Then suddenly there was a slip of soil, a helpless clutch at fern andheather, a cry of terror, and he was alone on the headland. The blackswirl was closing over the girl's head. 

He had been standing rapt in a happy fancy, his thoughts far in a worldof their own, and his eyes vacant of any purpose. Startled toalertness, he still saw vaguely, and for a second stood irresolute andwondering. Then came another splash, and a heavy body flung itself intothe pool from lower down the rock. He knew the black head and the roundshoulders of Mr. Stocks. 

The man caught the girl as she struggled to get out of the swirl andwith strong ugly strokes began to make for shore. Lewis stood with asick heart, slow to realize the horror which had overtaken him. She wasout of danger, though the man was swimming badly; dismally he noted thefact of his atrocious swimming. But this was the hero; he had stoodirresolute. The thought burned him like a hot iron. 

Half a dozen pairs of hands relieved the swimmer of his burden. Alicewas little the worse, a trifle pale, very draggled and unhappy, andutterly tired. Lady Manorwater wept over her and kissed her, and hailedthe dripping Stocks as her preserver. Lewis alone stood back. Hesatisfied himself that she was unhurt, and then, on the plea of gettingthe carriage, set off down the glen with a very grey, quivering face. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE PLEASURES OF A CONSCIENCE

It was half-way down the glen that the full ignominy of his positioncame on Lewis with the shock of a thunder-clap. A hateful bitternessagainst her preserver and the tricks of fate had been his solitaryfeeling, till suddenly he realized the part he had played, and sawhimself for a naked coward. Coward he called himself-withoutreflection; for in such a moment the mind thinks in crude colours andbold lines of division. He set his teeth in his lip, and with a heartsinking at the shameful thought stalked into the farm stables where theGlenavelin servants were. 

He could not return to the Pool. Alice was little hurt, so anxiety wasneedless; better let him leave Mr. Stocks to enjoy his heroics inpeace. He would find an excuse; meanwhile, give him quiet and solitudeto digest his bitterness. He cursed himself for the unworthiness of histhoughts. What a pass had he come to when he grudged a little _kudos_to a rival, grudged it churlishly, childishly. He flung from him theself-reproach. Other people would wonder at his ungenerousness, and hissulky ill-nature. They would explain by the first easy discreditablereason. What eared he for their opinion when he knew the far greatershame in his heart?

For as he strode up the woodland path to Etterick the wrappings ofsurface passion fell off from his view of the past hour, and he saw thebald and naked ribs of his own incapacity. It was a trivial incident tothe world, but to himself a momentous self-revelation. He was adreamer, a weakling, a fool. He had hesitated in a crisis, and anotherhad taken his place. A thousand incidents of ready courage in pastsport and travel were forgotten, and on this single slip the terribleindictment was founded. And the reason is at hand; this weakness had atlast drawn near to his life's great passion. 

He found a deserted house, but its solitude was too noisy for hisunrest. Bidding the butler tell his friends that he had gone up thehill, he crossed the sloping lawns and plunged into the thicket ofrhododendrons. Soon he was out on the heather, with the great slopes, scorched with the heat, lying still and fragrant before him. He feltsick and tired, and flung himself down amid the soft brackens. 

It was the man's first taste of bitter mental anguish. Hitherto hislife had been equable and pleasant; his friends had adored him; theworld had flattered him; he had been at peace with his own soul. He hadknown his failings, but laughed at them cavalierly; he stood on adifferent platform from the struggling, conscience-stricken herd. Nowhe had in very truth been flung neck and crop from the pedestal of hisself-esteem; and he lay groaning in the dust of abasement. 

Wratislaw guessed with a friend's instinct his friend's disquietude, andturned his steps to the hill when he had heard the butler's message. Hehad known something of Lewis's imaginary self-upbraidings, and he wasprepared for them, but he was not prepared for the grey and wretchedface in the lee of the pinewood. A sudden suspicion that Lewis had beenguilty of some real dishonour flashed across his mind for the moment, only to be driven out with scorn. 

"Lewie, my son, what the deuce is wrong with you?" he cried. 

The other looked at him with miserable eyes. 

"I am beginning to find out my rottenness. "

Wratislaw laughed in spite of himself. "What a fool to go makingpsychological discoveries on such a day! Is it all over the littlemisfortune at the pool?"

Tragedy grew in Lewis's eyes. "Don't laugh, old chap. You don't knowwhat I did. I let her fall into the water, and then I stood staring andlet another man--the other man--save her. "

"Well, and what about that? He had a better chance than you. Youshouldn't grudge him his good fortune. "

"Good Lord, man, you don't think it's that that's troubling me! I feltmurderous, but it wasn't on his account. "

"Why not?" asked the older man drily. "You love the girl, and he's inthe running with you. What more?"

Lewis groaned. "How can I talk about loving her when my love is such atrifling thing that it doesn't nerve me to action? I tell you I loveher body and soul. I live for her. The whole world is full of her. She is never a second out of my thoughts. And yet I am so little of aman that I let her come near death and never try to save her. "

"But, confound it, man, it may have been mere absence of mind. You werealways an extraordinarily plucky chap. " Wratislaw spoke irritably, forit seemed to him sheer folly. 

Lewis looked at him imploringly. "Can you not understand?" he cried. 

Wratislaw did understand, and suddenly. The problem was subtler than hehad thought. Weakness was at the core of it, weakness revealed inself-deception and self-accusation alike, the weakness of the finicaldreamer, the man with the unrobust conscience. But the weakness whichLewis arraigned himself on was the very obvious failing of the diffidentand the irresolute. Wratislaw tried the path of boisterousencouragement. 

"Get up, you old fool, and come down to the house. You a coward! Youare simply a romancer with an unfortunate knack of tragedy. " The manmust be laughed out of this folly. If he were not he would show theself-accusing front to the world, and the Manorwaters, Alice, Stocks--all save his chosen intimates--would credit him with a cowardiceof which he had no taint. 

Arthur and George, resigned now to the inevitable lady, had seen in theincident only the anxiety of a man for his beloved, and just a hint ofthe ungenerous in his treatment of Mr. Stocks. They were not preparedfor the silent tragic figure which Wratislaw brought with him. 

Arthur had a glint of the truth, but the obtuse George saw nothing. "Doyou know that you are going to have the Wisharts for neighbours for acouple of months yet? Old Wishart has taken Glenavelin from the end ofAugust. "

This would have been pleasant hearing at another time, but now it simplydrove home the nail of his bitter reflections. Alice would be near him, a terrible reproach-she, the devotee of strength and competence. Hecould not win her, and it is characteristic of the man that he hadceased to think of Mr. Stocks as his rival. He would lose her to norival; to his ragged incapacity alone would his ill fortune be due. 

He struggled to act the part of the cheerful host, and Wratislaw watchedhis efforts grimly. He ate little at dinner, showed no desire to smoke, and played billiards so badly that Wratislaw, an execrable player, wonthe first and last game of his life. The victor took him out of doorsthereafter to walk on the moonlit, fragrant lawn. 

"You are taking things to heart, " said he. 

"And I'm blessed if I can understand you. To me it's sheer mania. "

"And to me it's the last link in a chain. I have suspected myself forlong, now I know myself and-ugh! the knowledge is a hideous thing. "

Wratislaw stood regarding his companion seriously. "I wonder what willhappen to you, Lewie. Life is serious enough without inventing acrotchety virtue to make it miserable. "

"Can't you understand me, Tommy? It isn't that I'm a cad, it's that Iam a coward. I couldn't be a cad supposing I tried. These things are amatter chiefly of blood and bone, and I am not made that way. But Godhelp me! I am a coward. I can't fight worth twopence. Look at myperformance a fortnight ago. The ordinary gardener's boy can beat me atmaking love. I am full of generous impulses and sentiments, but what'sthe use of them? Everything grows cold and I am a dumb icicle when itcomes to action. I knew all this before, but I thought I had kept mybodily courage. I've had a good enough training, and I used to havepluck. "

"But you don't mean to tell me that it was funk that kept you out of thepool to-day?" cried the impatient Wratislaw. 

"How do I know that it wasn't?" came the wretched answer. 

Wratislaw turned on his heel and made to go back. 

"You're an infernal idiot, Lewie, and an infernal child. Thank heaven!your friends know you better than you know yourself. "

The next morning it was a different man who came down to breakfast. Hehad lost his haggard air, and seemed to have forgotten the night'sepisode. 

"Was I very rude to everybody last night?" he asked. "I have a vaguerecollection of playing the fool. "

"You were particularly rude about yourself, " said Wratislaw. 

The young man laughed. "It's a way I have sometimes. It's an awkwardthing when a man's foes are of his own household. "

The others seemed to see a catch in his mirth, a ring as of somethinghollow. He opened some letters, and looked up from one with a twitchingface and a curious droop of the eyelids. "Miss Wishart is all right, "he said. "My aunt says that she is none the worse, but that Stocks hascaught a tremendous cold. An unromantic ending!"

The meal ended, they wandered out to the lawn to smoke, and Wratislawfound himself standing with a hand on his host's shoulder. He noticedsomething distraught in his glance and air. 

"Are you fit again to-day?" he asked. 

"Quite fit, thanks, " said Lewis, but his face belied him. He hadforgiven himself the incident of yesterday, but no proof of a nonsequitur could make him relinquish his dismal verdict. The wide morninglandscape lay green and soothing at his feet. Down in the glen men werewinning the bog-hay; up on the hill slopes they were driving lambs; theAvelin hurried to the Gled, and beyond was the great ocean and theinfinite works of man. The whole brave bustling world was astir, littleand great ships hasting out of port, the soldier scaling the breach, theadventurer travelling the deserts. And he, the fool, had no share inthis braggart heritage. He could not dare to look a man straight in theface, for like the king in the old fable he had lost his soul. 

CHAPTER XIV

A GENTLEMAN IN STRAITS

The fall of the leaf found Etterick very full of people, and newdwellers in Glenavelin. The invitations were of old standing, but Lewisfound their fulfilment a pleasant trick of Fortune's. To keep abustling household in good spirits leaves small room for brooding, andhe was famous for his hospitality. The partridges were plentiful thatyear, and a rainless autumn had come on the heels of a fine summer. Solife went pleasantly with all, and the master of the place cloaked avery sick heart under a ready good-humour. 

His thoughts were always on Glenavelin, and when he happened to be nearit he used to look with anxious eyes for a slim figure which was rarelyout of his fancy. He had not seen Alice since the accident, save forone short minute, when riding from Gledsmuir he had passed her oneafternoon at the Glenavelin gates. He had earnestly desired to stop, but his curious cowardice had made him pass with a lifted hat and ahasty smile. Could he have looked back, he might have seen the girlwatching him out of sight with tearful eyes. To himself he was thehopeless lover, and she the scornful lady, while she in her own eyes wasthe unhappy girl for whom the soldier in the song shakes his bridlereins and cries an eternal adieu. 

Matters did not improve when the Manorwaters left and Mr. Wisharthimself came down, bringing with him Stocks, a certain Mr. Andrews andhis wife, and an excellent young man called Thompson. All were pleasantpeople, with the manners which the world calls hearty, well-groomed, presentable folk, who enjoyed this life and looked forward to a better. 

Mr. Wishart explored the place thoroughly the first evening, andexplained that he was thankful indeed that he had been led to take it. He was a handsome man with a worn, elderly face, a square jaw andsomewhat weary eyes. It is given to few men to make a great fortune andnot bear the signs of it on their persons. 

"I expect you enjoyed staying with Lady Manorwater, Alice?" Mrs. Andrews declared at dinner. "They are very plain people, aren't they, to be such great aristocrats?

"I suppose so, " said the girl listlessly. 

"I once met Lady Manorwater at Mrs. Cookson's at afternoon tea. Ithought she was badly dressed. You know Manorwater, don't you, George?"said the lady to her husband, with the boldness which comes from the useof a peer's name without the handle. 

"Oh yes, I know him well. I have met him at the Liberal Club dinners, and I was his chairman once when he spoke on Irish affairs. Adelightful man!"

"I suppose they would have a pleasant house-party when you were here, mydear?" asked the lady. "And of course you had the election. What fun!And what a victory for you, Mr. Stocks! I hear you beat the greatestlandowner in the district. "

Mr. Stocks smiled and glanced at Alice. The girl flushed; she couldnot help it; and she hated Mr. Stocks for his look. 

Her father spoke for the first time. "What is the young man like, Mr. Stocks? I hear he is very proud and foolish, the sort of over-educatedtype which the world has no use for. "

"I like him, " said Mr. Stocks dishonestly. "He fought like agentleman. "

"These people are so rarely gentlemen, " said Mrs. Andrews, proud of herhigh attitude. "I suppose his father made his money in coal and boughtthe land from some poor dear old aristocrat. It is so sad to think ofit. And that sort of person is always over-educated, for you see theyhave not the spirit of the old families and they bury themselves inbooks. " Mrs. Andrews's father had kept a crockery shop, but hisdaughter had buried the memory. 

Mr. Wishart frowned. The lady had been asked down for her husband'ssake, and he did not approve of this chatter about family. Mr. Stocks, who was about to explain the Haystoun pedigree, caught his host's eyeand left the dangerous subject untouched. 

"You said in your letters that they had been kind to you at this youngman's place. We must ask him down here to dinner, Alice. Oh, and thatreminds me I found a letter from him to-day asking me to shoot. I don'tgo in for that sort of thing, but you young fellows had better try it. "

Mr. Stocks declined, said he had given it up. Mr. Thompson said, "Upon my word I should like to, " and privately vowed to forget theinvitation. He distrusted his prowess with a gun. 

"By the by, was he not at the picnic when you saved my daughter's life?I can never thank you enough, Stocks. What should I have done withoutmy small girl?"

"Yes, he was there. In fact he was with Miss Alice at the moment sheslipped. "

He may not have meant it, but the imputation was clear, and it stirredone fiery expostulation. "Oh, but he hadn't time before Mr. Stockscame after me, " she began, and then feeling it ungracious towards thatgentleman to make him share a possibility of heroism with another, shewas silent. More, a lurking fear which had never grown large enough fora suspicion, began to catch at her heart. Was it possible that Lewishad held back?

For a moment the candle-lit room vanished from her eyes. She saw thewarm ledge of rock with the rowan berries above. She saw his flushed, eager face--it was her last memory before she had fallen. Surelynever--never was there cowardice in those eyes!

Mrs. Andrews's vulgarities and her husband's vain repetitions began topall upon the anxious girl. The young Mr. Thompson talked shrewdlyenough on things of business, and Mr. Stocks abated something of hispomposity and was honestly amiable. These were her own people, theworkers for whom she had craved. And yet--were they so desirable? Herfather's grave, keen face pleased her always, but what of the others?The radiant gentlewomen whom she had met with the Manorwaters seemed tobelong to another world than this of petty social struggling and awkwardostentation. And the men! Doubtless they were foolish, dilettanti, barbarians of sport, half-hearted and unpractical! And she shut herheart to any voice which would defend them. 

Lewis drove over to dine some four days later with dismal presentiments. The same hopeless self-contempt which had hung over him for weeks wasstill weighing on his soul. He dreaded the verdict of Alice's eyes, andin a heart which held only kindness he looked for a cold criticism. Itwas this despair which made his position hopeless He would never takehis chance; there could be no opportunity for the truth to become clearto both; for in his plate-armour of despair he was shielded against theworld. Such was his condition to the eyes of a friend; to himself hewas the common hopeless lover who sighed for a stony mistress. 

He noticed changes in Glenavelin. Businesslike leather pouches stood inthe hall, and an unwontedly large pile of letters lay on a table. Thedrawing-room was the same as ever, but in the dining-room an escritoirehad been established which groaned under a burden of papers. Mr. Wishart puzzled and repelled him. It was a strong face, but a cold anda stupid one, and his eyes had the glassy hardness of the man withoutvision. He was bidden welcome, and thanked in a tactless way for hiskindness to Mr. Wishart's daughter. Then he was presented to Mrs. Andrews, and his courage sank as he bowed to her. 

At table the lady twitted him with graceful badinage. "Alice and youmust have had a gay time, Mr. Haystoun. Why, you've been seeing eachother constantly for months. Have you become great friends?" Sheexerted herself, for, though he might be a parvenu, he was undeniablyhandsome. 

Mr. Stocks explained that Mr. Haystoun had organized wonderful picnicparties. The lady clapped her many-ringed hands, and declared that hemust repeat the experiment. "For I love picnics, " she said, "I love thesimplicity and the fresh air and the rippling streams. And washing upis fun, and it is such a great chance for you young men. " And she cast acoy glance over her shoulder. 

"Do you live far off, Mr. Haystoun?" she asked repeatedly. "Fourmiles? Oh, that's next door. We shall come and see you some day. Wehave just been staying with the Marshams--Mr. Marsham, you know, thebig cotton people. Very vulgar, but the house is charming. It was soexciting, for the elections were on, and the Hestons, who are the greatpeople in that part of the country, were always calling. Dear LadyJulia is so clever. Did you ever meet Mr. Marsham, by any chance?"

"Not that I remember. I know the Hestons of course. Julia is mycousin. "

The lady was silenced. "But I thought, " she murmured. "I thought--theywere--" She broke off with a cough. 

"Yes, I spent a good many of my school holidays at Heston. "

Alice broke in with a question about the Manorwaters. The youthful Mr. Thompson, who, apart from his solicitor's profession, was a devotee ofcricket, asked in a lofty way if Mr. Haystoun cared for the game. 

"I do rather. I'm not very good, but we raised an eleven this year inthe glen which beat Gledsmuir. "

The notion pleased the gentleman. If a second match could be arrangedhe might play and show his prowess. In all likelihood this solemn andbookish laird, presumably brought up at home, would be a poor enoughplayer. 

"I played a lot at school, " he said. "In fact I was in the Eleven fortwo years and I played in the Authentics match, and once against theEton Ramblers. A strong lot they were. "

"Let me see. Was that about seven years ago? I seem to remember. "

"Seven years ago, " said Mr. Thompson. "But why? Did you see thematch?"

"No, I wasn't in the match; I had twisted my ankle, jumping. But Icaptained the Ramblers that season, so I remember it. "

Respect grew large in Mr. Thompson's eyes. Here were modesty anddistinction equally mated. The picture of the shy student had gone fromhis memory. 

"If you like to come up to Etterick we might get up a match from thevillage, " said Lewis courteously. "Ourselves with the foresters andkeepers against the villagers wouldn't be a bad arrangement. "

To Alice the whole conversation struck a jarring note. His eye kindledand he talked freely on sport. Was it not but a new token of hisincurable levity? Mr. Wishart, who had understood little of the talk, found in this young man strange stuff to shape to a politician's ends. Contrasted with the gravity of Mr. Stocks, it was a schoolboy beside amaster. 

"I have been reading, " he said slowly, "reading a speech of the newUnder-Secretary for Foreign Affairs. I cannot understand the temper ofmind which it illustrates. He talks of the Bosnian war, and a bravepeople struggling for freedom, as if it were merely a move in somehideous diplomatists' game. A man of that sort cannot understand amoral purpose. "

"Tommy--I mean to say Mr. Wratislaw--doesn't believe in Bosnianfreedom, but you know he is a most ardent moralist. "

"I do not understand, " said Mr. Wishart drily. 

"I mean that personally he is a Puritan, a man who tries every action ofhis life by a moral standard. But he believes that moral standards varywith circumstances. "

"Pernicious stuff, sir. There is one moral law. There is one Table ofCommandments. "

"But surely you must translate the Commandments into the language of theoccasion. You do not believe that 'Thou shalt not kill' is absolute inevery case?"

"I mean that except in the God-appointed necessity of war, and in theserving of criminal justice, killing is murder. "

"Suppose a man goes travelling, " said Lewis with abstracted eyes, "andhas a lot of native servants. They mutiny, and he shoots down one ortwo. He saves his life, he serves, probably, the ends of civilization. Do you call that murder?"

"Assuredly. Better, far better that he should perish in the wildernessthan that he should take the law into his own hands and kill one ofGod's creatures. "

"But law, you know, is not an absolute word. "

Mr. Wishart scented danger. "I can't argue against your subtleties, but my mind is clear; and I can respect no man who could thinkotherwise. "

Lewis reddened and looked appealingly at Alice. She, too, wasuncomfortable. Her opinions sounded less convincing when stateddogmatically by her father. 

Mr. Stocks saw his chance and took it. 

"Did you ever happen to be in such a crisis as you speak of, Mr. Haystoun? You have travelled a great deal. "

"I have never had occasion to put a man to death, " said Lewis, seeingthe snare and scorning to avoid it. 

"But you have had difficulties?"

"Once I had to flog a couple of men. It was not pleasant, and worst ofall it did no good. "

"Irrational violence seldom does, " grunted Mr. Wishart. 

"No, for, as I was going to say, it was a clear case where the menshould have been put to death. They had deserved it, for they haddisobeyed me, and by their disobedience caused the death of severalinnocent people. They decamped shortly afterwards, and all but managedto block our path. I blame myself still for not hanging them. "

A deep silence hung over the table. Mr. Wishart and the Andrews staredwith uncomprehending faces. Mr. Stocks studied his plate, and Alicelooked on the speaker with eyes in which unwilling respect strove withconsternation. 

Only the culprit was at his ease. The discomfort of these good peoplefor a moment amused him. Then the sight of Alice's face, which hewholly misread, brought him back to decent manners. 

"I am afraid I have shocked you, " he said simply. "If one knocks aboutthe world one gets a different point of view. "

Mr. Wishart restrained a flood of indignation with an effort. "Wewon't speak on the subject, " he said. "I confess I have my prejudices. "

Mr. Stocks assented with a smile and a sigh. In the drawing-roomafterwards Lewis was presented with the olive-branch of peace. He hadto attend Mrs. Andrews to the piano and listen to her singing of asentimental ballad with the face of a man in the process of enjoyment. Soon he pleaded the four miles of distance and the dark night, and tookhis leave. His spirits had in a measure returned. Alice had not beengracious, but she had shown no scorn. And her spell at the first sightof her was woven a thousand-fold over his heart. 

He found her alone for one moment in the hall. 

"Alice--Miss Wishart, may I come and see you? It is a pity such nearneighbours should see so little of each other. "

His hesitation made him cloak a despairing request in the garb of aconventional farewell. 

The girl had the sense to pierce the disguise. "You may come and seeus, if you like, Mr. Haystoun. We shall be at home all next week. "

"I shall come very soon, " he cried, and he was whirled away from thelight; with the girl's face framed in the arch of the doorway making apicture for his memory. 

When the others had gone to bed, Stocks and Mr. Wishart sat up over alast pipe by the smoking-room fire. 

The younger man moved uneasily in his chair. He had something to saywhich had long lain on his mind, and he was uncertain of its reception. 

"You have been for a long time my friend, Mr. Wishart, " he began. "Youhave done me a thousand kindnesses, and I only hope I have not provedmyself unworthy of them. "

Mr. Wishart raised his eyebrows at the peculiar words. "Certainly youhave not, " he said. "I regard you as the most promising by far of theyounger men of my acquaintance, and any little services I may haverendered have been amply repaid me. "

The younger man bowed and looked into the fire. 

"It is very kind of you to speak so, " he said. "I have been wonderingwhether I might not ask for a further kindness, the greatest favourwhich you could confer upon me. Have you made any plans for yourdaughter's future?"

Mr. Wishart sat up stiffly on the instant. "You mean?" he said. 

"I mean that I love Alice . . . Your daughter . . . And I wish to makeher my wife. If you will give me your consent, I will ask her. "

"But--but, " said the old man, stammering. "Does the girl know anythingof this?"

"She knows that I love her, and I think she will not be unkind. "

"I don't know that I object, " said Mr. Wishart after a long pause. "Infact I am very willing, and I am very glad that you had the good mannersto speak to me first. Yes, upon my word, sir, I am pleased. You havehad a creditable career, and your future promises well. My girl willhelp you, for though I say it, she will not be ill-provided for. Irespect your character and I admire your principles, and I give you myheartiest good wishes. "

Mr. Stocks rose and held out his hand. He felt that the interviewcould not be prolonged in the present fervour of gratitude. 

"Had it been that young Haystoun now, " said Mr. Wishart, "I shouldnever have given my consent. I resolved long ago that my daughtershould never marry an idle man. I am a plain man, and I care nothingfor social distinctions. "

But as Mr. Stocks left the room the plain man glanced after him, andsitting back suffered a moment's reflection. The form of this workercontrasted in his mind with the figure of the idler who had that eveninggraced his table. A fool, doubtless, but a fool with an air and amanner! And for one second he allowed himself to regret that he was toacquire so unromantic a son-in-law. 

CHAPTER XV

The NEMESIS OF A COWARD

Two days later the Andrews drove up the glen to Etterick, taking withthem the unwilling Mr. Wishart. Alice had escaped the ordeal with somefeigned excuse, and the unfortunate Mr. Thompson, deeply grieving, hadbeen summoned by telegram from cricket to law. The lady had chatteredall the way up the winding moorland road, crying out banalities aboutthe pretty landscape, or questioning her very ignorant companions aboutthe dwellers in Etterick. She was full of praises for the house when itcame in view; it was "quaint, " it was "charming, " it was everythinginappropriate. But the amiable woman's prattle deserted her when shefound herself in the cold stone hall with the great portraits and thelack of all modern frippery. It was so plainly a man's house, soclearly a place of tradition, that her pert modern speech seemed for onemoment a fatuity. 

It was an off-day for the shooters, and so for a miracle there were menin the drawing-room at tea-time. The hostess for the time was an auntof Lewis's, a certain Mrs. Alderson, whose husband (the famous big-gamehunter) had but recently returned from the jaws of a Zambesi lion. George's sister, Lady Clanroyden, a tall, handsome girl in a whitefrock, was arranging flowers in a bowl, and on the sill of the openwindow two men were basking in the sun. From the inner drawing-roomthere came an echo of voices and laughter. The whole scene was sunnyand cheerful, youth and age, gay frocks and pleasant faces amid the oldtapestry and mahogany of a moorland house. 

Mr. Andrews sat down solemnly to talk of the weather with the two men, who found him a little dismal. One--he of the Zambesi lion episode--wasgrizzled, phlegmatic, and patient, and in no way critical of hiscompany. So soon he was embarked on extracts from his own experience towhich Mr. Andrews, who had shares in some company in the neighbourhood, listened with flattering attention. Mrs. Alderson set herself toentertain Mr. Wishart, and being a kindly, simple person, found thetask easy. They were soon engaged in an earnest discussion ofunsectarian charities. 

Lady Clanroyden, with an unwilling sense of duty, devoted herself toMrs. Andrews. That simpering matron fell into a vein of confidencesand in five brief minutes had laid bare her heart. Then came thenarrative of her recent visit to the Marshams, and the inevitablemention of the Hestons. 

"Oh, you know the Hestons?" said Lady Clanroyden, brightening. 

"Very well indeed. " The lady smiled, looking round to make sure thatLewis was not in the room. 

"Julia is here, you know. Julia, come and speak to your friends. "

A dark girl in mourning came forward to meet the expansive smile of Mrs. Andrews. Earnestly the lady hoped that she remembered the single briefmeeting on which she had built a fictitious acquaintance, and wasreassured when the newcomer shook hands with her pleasantly. Truth totell, Lady Julia had no remembrance of her face, but was toogood-natured to be honest. 

"And how is your dear mother? I was so sorry to hear from a mutualfriend that she had been unwell. " How thankful she was that she readeach week various papers which reported people's doings!

A sense of bewilderment lurked in her heart. Who was this LewisHaystoun who owned such a house and such a kindred? The hypothesis ofmoney made in coal seemed insufficient, and with much curiosity she setherself to solve the problem. 

"Is Mr. Haystoun coming back to tea?" she asked by way of a preface. 

"No, he has had to go to Gledsmuir. We are all idle this afternoon, buthe has a landowner's responsibilities. "

"Have his family been here long? I seem never to have heard the name. "

Lady Clanroyden looked a little surprised. "Yes, they have been rathera while. I forget how many centuries, but a good many. It was aboutthis place, you know, that the old ballad of 'The Riding of Etterick'was made, and a Haystoun was the hero. "

Mrs. Andrews knew nothing about old ballads, but she feigned a happyreminiscence. 

"It is so sad his being beaten by Mr. Stocks, " she declared. "Ofcourse an old county family should provide the members for a district. They have the hearts of the people with them. "

"Then the hearts of the people have a funny way of revealingthemselves, " Lady Clanroyden laughed. "I'm not at all sorry that Lewiewas beaten. He is the best man in the world, but one wants to shake himup. His motto is 'Thole, ' and he gets too few opportunities of'tholing. '"

"You all call him 'Lewie, '" commented the lady. "How popular he mustbe!"

Mabel Clanroyden laughed. "I have known him ever since I was a smallgirl in a short frock and straight-brushed hair. He was never anythingelse than Lewie to his friends. Oh, here is my wandering brother and myonly son returned, " and she rose to catch up a small, self-possessed boyof some six years, who led the flushed and reluctant George in tow. 

The small boy was very dirty, ruddy and cheerful. He had torn hisblouse, and scratched his brow, and the crown of his straw hat hadparted company with the brim. 

"George, " said his sister severely, "have you been corrupting themanners of my son? Where have you been?"

The boy--he rejoiced in the sounding name of Archibald--slapped a smallleg with a miniature whip, and counterfeited with great skill the poseof the stable-yard. He slowly unclenched a smutty fist and revealedthree separate shillings. 

"I won um myself, " he explained. 

"Is it highway robbery?" asked his mother with horrified eyes. "Archibald, have you stopped a coach, or held up a bus or anything ofthe kind?"

The child unclenched his hand again, beamed on his prize, smiledknowingly at the world, and shut it. 

"What has the dreadful boy been after? Oh, tell me, George, please. Iwill try to bear it. "

"We fell in with a Sunday-school picnic along in the glen, and Archiemade me take him there. And he had tea--I hope the little chap won't beill, by the by. And he made a speech or a recitation or something ofthe sort. Nobody understood it, but it went down like anything. "

"And do you mean to say that the people gave him money, and you allowedhim to take it?" asked an outraged mother. 

"He won it, " said George. "Won it in fair fight. He was second in therace under twelve, and first in the race under ten. They gave him adecent handicap, and he simply romped home. That chap can run, Mabel. He tried the sack race, too, but the first time he slipped altogetherinside the thing and had to be taken out, yelling. But he stuck to itlike a Trojan, and at the second shot he got started all right, andwould have won it if he hadn't lost his head and rolled down a bank. Heisn't scratched much, considering he fell among whins. That alsoexplains the state of his hat. "

"George, you shall never, never, as long as I live, take my son out withyou again. It is a wonder the poor child escaped with his life. Youhave not a scrap of feeling. I must take the boy away or he will shameme before everybody. Come and talk to Mrs. Andrews, George. May Iintroduce my brother, Mr. Winterham?"

George, who wanted to smoke, sat down unwillingly in the chair which hissister had left. The lady, whose airs and graces were all for men, puton her most bewitching manner. 

"Your sister and I have just been talking about this exquisite place, Mr. Winterham. It must be delightful to live in such a centre of oldromance. That lovely 'Riding of Etterick' has been running in my headall the way up. "

George privately wondered at the confession. The peculiarly tragic andghastly fragments which made up "The Riding of Etterick, " seemedscarcely suited to haunt a lady's memory. 

"Had you a long drive?" he asked in despair for a topic. 

"Only from Glenavelin. "

He awoke to interest. "Are you staying at Glenavelin just now? TheWisharts are in it, are they not? We were a great deal about the placewhen the Manorwaters were there. "

"Oh yes. I have heard about Lady Manorwater from Alice Wishart. Shemust be a charming woman; Alice cannot speak enough about her. "

George's face brightened. "Miss Wishart is a great friend of mine, anda most awfully good sort. "

"And as you are a great friend of hers I think I may tell you a greatsecret, " and the lady patted him playfully. "Our pretty Alice is goingto be married. "

George was thoroughly roused to attention. "Who is the man?" he askedsharply. 

"I think I may tell you, " said Mrs. Andrews, enjoying her sense ofimportance. "It is Mr. Stocks, the new member. "

George restrained with difficulty a very natural oath. Then he lookedat his informant and saw in her face only silliness and truth. For thegood woman had indeed persuaded herself of the verity of her fancy. Mr. Stocks had told her that he had her father's consent and good wishes, and misinterpreting the girl's manner she had considered the affairsettled. 

It was unfortunate that Mr. Wishart at this moment showed such obvioussigns of restlessness that the lady rose to take her leave, otherwiseGeorge might have learned the truth. After the Glenavelin party hadgone he wandered out to the lawn, pulling his moustache in vastperplexity and cursing the twisted world. He had no guess at Lewis'smanner of wooing; to him it had seemed the simple, straightforward lovewhich he thought beyond resistance. And now, when he learned of thismelancholy issue, he was sore at heart for his friend. 

He was awakened from his reverie by Lewis himself, who, having riddenstraight to the stables, was now sauntering towards the house. A trimman looks at his best in riding clothes, and Lewis was no exception. Hewas flushed with sun and motion, his spirits were high, for all thejourney he had been dreaming of a coming meeting with Alice, and thehope which had suddenly increased a thousand-fold. George marked hismood, and with a regret at his new role caught him by the arm andchecked him. 

"I say, old man, don't go in just yet. I want to tell you something, and I think you had better hear it now. "

Lewis turned obediently, amazed by the gravity of his friend's face. 

"Some people came up from Glenavelin this afternoon and among them aMrs. Andrews, whom I had a talk to. She told me that Al--Miss Wishartis engaged to that fellow Stocks. "

Lewis's face whitened and he turned away his eyes. He could not creditit. Two days ago she had been free; he could swear it; he rememberedher eyes at parting. Then came the thought of his blindness, and in agreat horror of self-mistrust he seemed to see throughout it all hiscriminal folly. He, poor fool, had been pleasing himself with dreams ofa meeting, when all the while the other man had been the real lover. She had despised him, spared not a thought for him save as a pleasingidler; and he--that he should ever have ventured for one second to hope!Curiously enough, for the first time he thought of Stocks with respect;to have won the girl seemed in itself the proof of dignity and worth. 

"Thanks very much for telling me. I am glad I know. No, I don't thinkI'll go into the house yet. "

 * * * * *

The days passed and Alice waited with anxious heart for the coming ofthe very laggard Lewis. To-day he will come, she said each morning; andevening found her--poor heart!--still expectant. She told herself athousand times that it was sheer folly. He meant nothing, it was a merefashion of speech; and then her heart would revolt and bid common sensebe silent. He came indeed with some of the Etterick party on a formalcall, but this was clearly not the fulfilment of his promise. So thegirl waited and despaired, while the truant at Etterick was breaking hisheart for the unattainable. 

Mr. Stocks, having won the official consent, conducted his suit withcommendable discretion. Suit is the word for the performance, so fullwas it of elaborate punctilios. He never intruded upon her unhappiness. A studied courtesy, a distant thoughtfulness were his only compliments. But when he found her gayer, then would he strive with subtle delicaciesof manner to make clear the part he desired to play. 

The girl saw his kindness and was grateful. In the revulsion againstthe Andrews he seemed a link with the more pleasant sides of life, andsoon in her despair and anger his modest merits took heroic proportionsin her eyes. She forgot her past dislike; she thought only of this, thesimple good man, contrasted with the showy and fickle-hearted--truemetal against glittering tinsel. His very weaknesses seemed homely andvenial. He was of her own world, akin to the things which deep down inher soul she knew she must love to the last. It is to the credit of theman's insight that he saw the mood and took pains to foster it. 

Twice he asked her to marry him. The first time her heart was stillsore with disappointment and she refused--yet half-heartedly. 

He waited his time and when the natural cheerfulness of her temper wasbeginning to rise, he again tried his fortune. 

"I cannot, " she cried. "I cannot. I like you very much, but oh, it istoo much to ask me to marry you. "

"But I love you with all my heart, Alice. " And the honesty of his toneand the distant thought of a very different hope brought the tears toher eyes. 

He had forgotten all pompous dreams and the stilted prospects with whichhe had aforetime hoped to beguile his wife. The man was plain andsimple now, a being very much on fire with an honest passion. He mayhave left her love-cold, but he touched the sympathy which in a truewoman is love's nearest neighbour. Before she knew herself she hadpromised, and had been kissed respectfully and tenderly by her delightedlover. For a moment she felt something like joy, and then, with adreadful thought of the baselessness of her pleasure, walked slowlyhomewards by his side. 

The next morning Alice rose with a dreary sense of the irrevocable. Adoor seemed to have closed behind her, and the future stretched beforeher in a straight dusty path with few nooks and shadows. This was notthe blithe morning of betrothal she had looked for. The rapturousoutlook on life which she had dreamed of was replaced by a cold andbusiness-like calculation of profits. The rose garden of the "godunconquered in battle" was exchanged for a very shoddy and hucksteringparadise. 

Mrs. Andrews claimed her company all the morning, and with thepertinacity of her kind soon guessed the very obvious secret. Hergushing congratulations drove the girl distracted. She praised the goodStocks, and Alice drank in the comfort of such words with greedy ears. From one young man she passed to another, and hung lovingly over theperfections of Mr. Haystoun. "He has the real distinction, dear, " shecried, "which you can never mistake. It only belongs to old blood andit is quite inimitable. His friends are so charming, too, and you canalways tell a man by his people. It is so pleasant to fall in with oldacquaintances again. That dear Lady Clanroyden promised to come oversoon. I quite long to see her, for I feel as if I had known her forages. "

After lunch Alice fled the house and sought her old refuge--the hills. There she would find the deep solitude for thought. She was notbroken-hearted, though she grieved now and again with a blind longing ofregret. But she was confused and shaken; the landmarks of her visionseemed to have been removed, and she had to face the grim narrowing-downof hopes which is the sternest trial for poor mortality. 

Autumn's hand was lying heavy on the hillsides. Bracken was yellowing, heather passing from bloom, and the clumps of wild-wood taking the softrusset and purple of decline. Faint odours of wood smoke seemed to flitover the moor, and the sharp lines of the hill fastnesses were drawn aswith a graving-tool against the sky. She resolved to go to the Midburnand climb up the cleft, for the place was still a centre of memory. Soshe kept for a mile to the Etterick road, till she came in view of thelittle stone bridge where the highway spans the moorland waters. 

There had been intruders in Paradise before her. Broken bottles andscraps of paper were defacing the hill turf, and when she turned to getto the water's edge she found the rushy coverts trampled on every side. From somewhere among the trees came the sound of singing--a sillymusic-hall catch. It was a sharp surprise, and the girl, in horror atthe profanation, was turning in all haste to leave. 

But the Fates had prepared an adventure. Three half-tipsy men cameswinging down the slope, their arms linked together, and bowlers setrakishly on the backs of their heads. They kept up the chorus of thesong which was being sung elsewhere, and they suited their rolling gaitto the measure. 

"For it ain't Maria, " came the tender melody; and the reassuring phrasewas repeated a dozen times. Then by ill-luck they caught sight of theastonished Alice, and dropping their musical efforts they hailed herfamiliarly. Clearly they were the stragglers of some picnic from thetown, the engaging type of gentleman who on such occasions is drunk bymidday. They were dressed in ill-fitting Sunday clothes, great flowersbeamed from their button-holes, and after the fashion of their kindtheir waistcoats were unbuttoned for comfort. The girl tried to go backby the way she had come, but to her horror she found that she wasintercepted. The three gentlemen commanded her retreat. 

They seemed comparatively sober, so she tried entreaty. "Please, let mepass, " she said pleasantly. "I find I have taken the wrong road. "

"No, you haven't, dearie, " said one of the men, who from a superiorneatness of apparel might have been a clerk. "You've come the rightroad, for you've met us. And now you're not going away. " And he cameforward with a protecting arm. 

Alice, genuinely frightened, tried to cross the stream and escape by theother side. But the crossing was difficult, and she slipped at theoutset and wet her ankles. One of the three lurched into the waterafter her, and withdrew with sundry oaths. 

The poor girl was in sad perplexity. Before was an ugly rush of waterand a leap beyond her strength; behind, three drunken men, their mouthsfull of endearment and scurrility. She looked despairingly to the levelwhite road for the Perseus who should deliver her. 

And to her joy the deliverer was not wanting. In the thick of the idiotshouting of the trio there came the clink-clank of a horse's feet and ayoung man came over the bridge. He saw the picture at a glance and itsmeaning; and it took him short time to be on his feet and then over thebroken stone wall to the waterside. Suddenly to the girl's delightthere appeared at the back of the roughs the inquiring, sunburnt face ofLewis. 

The men turned and stared with hanging jaws. "Now, what the dickens isthis?" he cried, and catching two of their necks he pulled their headstogether and then flung them apart. 

The three seemed sobered by the apparition. "And what the h-ll is yourbusiness?" they cried conjointly; and one, a dark-browed fellow, doubledhis fists and advanced. 

Lewis stood regarding them with a smiling face and very bright, crosseyes. "Are you by way of insulting this lady? If you weren't drunk, I'd teach you manners. Get out of this in case I forget myself. "

For answer the foremost of the men hit out. A glance convinced Lewisthat there was enough sobriety to make a fight of it. "MissWishart . . . Alice, " he cried, "come back and go down to the roadand see to my horse, please. I'll be down in a second. "

The girl obeyed, and so it fell out that there was no witness to thatburn-side encounter. It was a complex fight and it lasted for more thana second. Two of the men had the grace to feel ashamed of themselveshalf-way through, and retired from the contest with shaky limbs andaching faces. The third had to be assisted to his feet in the end byhis antagonist. It was not a good fight, for the three werepasty-faced, overgrown young men, in no training and stupid with liquor. But they pressed hard on Lewis for a little, till he was compelled inself-defence to treat them as fair opponents. 

He came down the road in a quarter of an hour with a huge rent in hiscoat-sleeve and a small cut on his forehead. He was warm andbreathless, still righteously indignant at the event, and half-ashamedof so degrading an encounter. He found the girl standing statue-like, holding the bridle-rein, and looking into the distance with vacant eyes. 

"Are you going back to Glenavelin, Miss Wishart?" he asked. "I think Ihad better go with you if you will allow me. "

Alice mutely assented and walked beside him while he led his horse. Hecould think of nothing to say. The whole world lay between them now, and there was no single word which either could speak without showingsome trace of the tragic separation. 

It was the girl who first broke the silence. 

"I want to thank you with all my heart, " she stammered. And then by anawkward intuition she looked in his face and saw written there all thehopelessness and longing which he was striving to conceal. For onemoment she saw clearly, and then the crooked perplexities of the worldseemed to stare cruelly in her eyes. A sob caught her voice, and beforeshe was conscious of her action she laid a hand on Lewis's arm and burstinto tears. 

The sight was so unexpected that it deprived him of all power of action. Then came the fatally easy solution that it was but reaction ofover-strained nerves. Always ill at ease in a woman's presence, awoman's tears reduced him to despair. He stroked her hair gently as hewould have quieted a favourite horse. 

"I am so sorry that these brutes have frightened you. But here we areat Glenavelin gates. "

And all the while his heart was crying out to him to clasp her in hisarms, and the words which trembled on his tongue were the passionateconsolations of a lover. 

CHAPTER XVI

A MOVEMENT OP THE POWERS

At Mrs. Montrayner's dinner parties a world of silent men is sandwichedbetween a _monde_ of chattering women. The hostess has a taste for busycelebrities who eat their dinner without thought of the cookery, andregard their fair neighbours much as the diners think of the band in arestaurant. She chose her company with care, and if at her table therewas not the busy clack of a fluent conversation, there was always thepossibility of _bons mots_ and the off-chance of a State secret. So tohave dined with the Montrayners became a boast in a small social set, and to the unilluminate the Montrayner banquets seemed scarce lessmomentous than Cabinet meetings. 

Wratislaw found himself staring dully at a snowy bank of flowers andlooking listlessly at the faces beyond. He was extremely worried, andhis grey face and sunken eyes showed the labour he had been passingthrough. The country was approaching the throes of a crisis, and as yetthe future was a blind alley to him. There was an autumn session, andhe had been badgered all the afternoon in the Commons; his even temperhad been perilously near its limits, and he had been betrayedunconsciously into certain ineptitudes which he knew would grin in hisface on the morrow from a dozen leading articles. The Continent seemedon the edge of an outbreak; in the East especially, Russia by a score ofpetty acts had seemed to foreshadow an incomprehensible policy. It wasa powder-barrel waiting for the spark; and he felt dismally that thespark might come at any moment from some unlooked-for quarter of theglobe. He ran over in his mind the position of foreign affairs. Allseemed vaguely safe; and yet he was conscious that all was vaguelyunsettled. The world was on the eve of one of its cyclic changes, andunrest seemed to make the air murky. 

He tried to be polite and listened attentively to the lady on his right, who was telling him the latest gossip about a certain famous marriage. But his air was so manifestly artificial that she turned to thepresumably more attractive topic of his doings. 

"You look ill, " she said--she was one who adopted the motherly airtowards young men, which only a pretty woman can use. "Are theyover-working you in the House?"

"Pretty fair, " and he smiled grimly. "But really I can't complain. Ihave had eight hours' sleep in the last four days, and I don't thinkBeauregard could say as much. Some day I shall break loose and go to aquiet place and sleep for a week. Brittany would do--or Scotland. "

"I was in Scotland last week, " she said. "I didn't find it quiet. Itwas at one of those theatrical Highland houses where they pipe you tosleep and pipe you to breakfast. I used to have to sit up all night bythe fire and read Marius the Epicurean, to compose myself. Did you evertry the specific?"

"No, " he said, laughing. "I always soothe my nerves with Blue-books. "

She made a mouth at the thought. "And do you know I met such a nice manup there, who said you were a great friend of his? His name wasHaystoun. "

"Do you remember his Christian name?" he asked. 

"Lewis, " she said without hesitation. 

He laughed. "He is a man who should only have one name and that hisChristian one. I never heard him called 'Haystoun' in my life. How ishe?"

"He seemed well, but he struck me as being at rather a loose end. Whatis wrong with him? You know him well and can tell me. He seems to havenothing to do; to have fallen out of his niche, you know. And he looksso extraordinarily clever. "

"He _is_ extraordinarily clever. But if I undertook to tell you whatwas wrong with Lewie Haystoun, I should never get to the House to-night. The vitality of a great family has run to a close in him. He is strongand able, and yet, unless the miracle of miracles happens, he will neverdo anything. Two hundred years ago he might have led some mad Jacobiteplot to success. Three hundred and he might have been another Raleigh. Six hundred, and there would have been a new crusade. But as it is, heis out of harmony with his times; life is too easy and mannered; thefield for a man's courage is in petty and recondite things, and Lewie isnot fitted to understand it. And all this, you see, spells a kind ofcowardice: and if you have a friend who is a hero out of joint, a greatman smothered in the wrong sort of civilization, and all the while onewho is building up for himself with the world and in his own heart thereputation of a coward, you naturally grow hot and bitter. "

The lady looked curiously at the speaker. She had never heard thesilent politician speak so earnestly before. 

"It seems to me a clear case of _chercher la femme_, " said she. 

"That, " said Wratislaw with emphasis, "is the needle-point of the wholebusiness. He has fallen in love with just the wrong sort of woman. Very pretty, very good, a demure puritanical little Pharisee, cleverenough, too, to see Lewie's merits, too weak to hope to remedy them, andtoo full of prejudice to accept them. There you have the makings of avery pretty tragedy. "

"I am so sorry, " said the lady. She was touched by this man's anxietyfor his friend, and Mr. Lewis Haystoun, whom she was never likely tomeet again, became a figure of interest in her eyes. She turned to saysomething more, but Wratislaw, having unburdened his soul to some one, and feeling a little relieved, was watching his chief's face furtherdown the table. That nobleman, hopelessly ill at ease, had given up thepretence of amiability and was now making frantic endeavours to sendmute signals across the flowers to his under secretary. 

The Montrayner guests seldom linger. Within half an hour after theladies left the table Beauregard and Wratislaw were taking leave andhurrying into their greatcoats. 

"You are going down to the House, " said the elder man, "and I'll cometoo. I want to have some talk with you. I tried to catch your eye atdinner to get you to come round and deliver me from old Montrayner, forI had to sit on his right hand and couldn't come round to you. Heigho-ho! I wish I was a Trappist. "

The cab had turned out of Piccadilly into St. James's Street beforeeither man spoke again. The tossing lights of a windy autumn eveningwere shimmering on the wet pavement, and faces looked spectral white inthe morris-dance of shine and shadow. Wratislaw, whose soul was sickfor high, clean winds and the great spaces of the moors, was thinking ofGlenavelin and Lewis and the strong, quickening north. His companionwas furrowing his brow over some knotty problem in his duties. 

In Pall Mall there was a lull in the noise, but neither seemed disposedto talk. 

"We had better wait till we get to the House, " said Beauregard. "Wemust have peace, for I have got the most vexatious business to speakabout. " And again he wrinkled his anxious brows and stared in front ofhim. 

They entered a private room where the fire had burned itself out, andthe lights fell on heavy furniture and cheerless solitude. Beauregardspread himself out in an arm-chair, and stared at the ceiling. Wratislaw, knowing his chief's manners, stood before the blackened grateand waited. 

"Fetch me an atlas--that big one, and find the map of the Indianfrontier. " Wratislaw obeyed and stretched the huge folio on the table. 

The elder man ran his forefinger in a circle. 

"There--that wretched radius is the plague of my life. Our reports stopshort at that line, and reliable information begins again some hundredsof miles north. Meanwhile--between?" And he shrugged his shoulders. 

"I got news to-day in a roundabout way from Taghati. That's the townjust within the Russian frontier there. It seems that the whole countryis in a ferment. The hill tribes are out and the Russian frontier lineis threatened. So they say. I have the actual names of the people whoare making the row. Russian troops are being massed along the linethere. The whole place, you know, has been for long a military beehiveand absurdly over-garrisoned, so there is no difficulty about themassing. The difficulty lies in the reason. Three thousand squaremiles or so of mountain cannot be so dangerous. One would think thatthe whole Afghan nation was meditating a descent on the Amu Daria. " Heglanced up at his companion, and the two men saw the same anxiety ineach other's eyes. 

"Anything more of Marka?" asked Wratislaw. 

"Nothing definite. He is somewhere in the Pamirs, up to some devilry orother. Oh, by the by, there is something I have forgotten. I found outthe other day that our gentleman had been down quite recently insouth-west Kashmir. He was Arthur Marker at the time, the son of aGerman count and a Scotch mother, you understand. Immensely popular, too, among natives and Europeans alike. He went south from Bardur, andapparently returned north by the Punjab. At Bardur, Logan and Thwaitewere immensely fascinated, Gribton remained doubtful. Now the goodGribton is coming home, and so he will have the place for a happyhunting-ground. "

Wratislaw was puffing his under-lip in deep thought. "It is a sweetbusiness, " he said. "But what can we do? Only wait?"

"Yes, one could wait if Marka were the only disquieting feature. Butwhat about Taghati and the Russian activity? What on earth is going onor about to go on in this square inch of mountain land to make all thepother? If it is a tribal war on a first-class scale then we must knowabout it, for it is in the highest degree our concern too. If it isanything else, things look more than doubtful. All the rest I don'tmind. It's open and obvious, and we are on the alert. But that littlebit of frontier there is so little known and apparently so remote that Ibegin to be afraid of trouble in that direction. What do you think?"

Wratislaw shook his head. He had no opinion to offer. 

"At any rate, you need fear no awkward questions in the House, for thissort of thing cannot be public for months. "

"I am wondering whether somebody should not go out. Somebody quiteunofficial and sufficiently clever. "

"My thought too, " said Beauregard. "The pinch is where to get our manfrom. I have been casting up possibilities all day, and this one is tooclever, another too dull, another too timid, and another toohare-brained. "

Wratislaw seemed sunk in a brown study. 

"Do you remember my telling you once about my friend Lewis Haystoun?" heasked. 

"I remember perfectly. What made him get so badly beaten? He ought tohave won. "

"That's part of my point, " said the other. "If I knew him less wellthan I do I should say he was the man cut out by Providence for thework. He has been to the place, he knows the ropes of travelling, he isexceedingly well-informed, and he is uncommonly clever. But he is badlyoff colour. The thing might be the saving of him, or the ruin--in whichcase, of course, he would also be the ruin of the thing. "

"As risky as that?" Beauregard asked. "I have heard something of him, but I thought it merely his youth. What's wrong with him?"

"Oh, I can't tell. A thousand things, but all might be done away withby a single chance like this. I tell you what I'll do. After to-nightI can be spared for a couple of days. I feel rather hipped myself, so Ishall get up to the north and see my man. I know the circumstances andI know Lewis. If the two are likely to suit each other I have yourauthority to give him your message?"

"Certainly, my dear Wratislaw. I have all the confidence in the worldin your judgment. You will be back the day after to-morrow?"

"I shall only be out of the House one night, and I think the game worthit. I need not tell you that I am infernally anxious both about thebusiness and my friend. It is just on the cards that one might be thesolution of the other. "

"You understand everything?"

"Everything. I promise you I shall be exacting enough. And now I hadbetter be looking after my own work. "

Beauregard stared after him as he went out of the room and remained fora few minutes in deep thought. Then he deliberately wrote out a foreigntelegram form and rang the bell. 

"I fancy I know the man, " he said to himself. "He will go. Meantime Ican prepare things for his passage. " The telegram was to the fugitiveGribton at Florence, asking him to meet a certain Mr. Haystoun at theEmbassy in Paris within a week for the discussion of a particularquestion. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE BRINK OF THE RUBICON

The next evening Wratislaw drove in a hired dogcart up Glenavelin fromGledsmuir just as a stormy autumn twilight was setting in over the barefields. A wild back-end had followed on the tracks of a marvelloussummer. Though it was still October the leaves lay heaped beneath thehedgerows, the bracken had yellowed to a dismal hue of decay, and theheather had turned from the purple of its flower to the grey-blue of itspassing. Rain had fallen, and the long road-side pools were fired bythe westering sun. Glenavelin looked crooked and fantastic in thefalling shadows, and two miles farther the high lights of Etterick roselike a star in the bosom of the hills. Seen after many weeks' work inthe bustle and confinement of town, the solitary, shadow-haunted worldsoothed and comforted. 

He found Lewis in his room alone. The place was quite dark for no lampwas lit, and only a merry fire showed the occupant. He welcomed hisfriend with crazy vehemence, pushing him into a great armchair, offeringa dozen varieties of refreshment, and leaving the butler aghast withcontradictory messages about dinner. 

"Oh, Tommy, upon my soul, it is good to see you here! I was getting asdull as an owl. "

"Are you alone?" Wratislaw asked. 

"George is staying here, but he has gone over to Glenaller to a bigshoot. I didn't care much about it, so I stayed at home. He will beback to-morrow. "

Lewis's face in the firelight seemed cheerful and wholesome enough, buthis words belied it. Wratislaw wondered why this man, who had been wontto travel to the ends of the earth for good shooting, should denyhimself the famous Glenaller coverts. 

At dinner the lamplight showed him more clearly, and the worried look inhis eyes could not be hidden. He was listless, too, his kindly, boisterous manner seemed to have forsaken him, and he had acquired agreat habit of abstracted silence. He asked about recent events in theHouse, commenting shrewdly enough, but without interest. When Wratislawin turn questioned him on his doings, he had none of the readyenthusiasm which had been used to accompany his talk on sport. He gavebare figures and was silent. 

Afterwards in his own sanctum, with drawn curtains and a leaping fire, he became more cheerful. It was hard to be moody in that pleasant room, with the light glancing from silver and vellum and dark oak, and athousand memories about it of the clean, outdoor life. Wratislawstretched his legs to the blaze and watched the coils of blue smokemounting from his pipe with a feeling of keen pleasure. His errand wasout of the focus of his thoughts. 

It was Lewis himself who recalled him to the business. 

"I thought of coming down to town, " he said. "I have been getting outof spirits up here, and I wanted to be near you. "

"Then it was an excellent chance which brought me up to-night. But whyare you dull? I thought you were the sort of man who is sufficient untohimself, you know. "

"I am not, " he said sharply. "I never realized my gross insufficiencyso bitterly. "

"Ah!" said Wratislaw, sitting up, "love?

"Did you happen to see Miss Wishart's engagement in the papers?"

"I never read the papers. But I have heard about this: in fact, Ibelieve I have congratulated Stocks. "

"Do you know that she ought to have married me?" Lewis cried almostshrilly. "I swear she loved me. It was only my hideous folly thatdrove her from me. "

"Folly?" said Wratislaw, smiling. "Folly? Well you might call itthat. I have come up 'ane's errand, ' as your people hereabouts say, totalk to you like a schoolmaster, Lewie. Do you mind a good talking-to?"

"I need it, " he said. "Only it won't do any good, because I have beentalking to myself for a month without effect. Do you know what I am, Tommy?"

"I am prepared to hear, " said the other. 

"A coward! It sounds nice, doesn't it? I am a shirker, a man who wouldbe drummed out of any regiment. "

"Rot!" said Wratislaw. "In that sort of thing you have the courage ofyour kind. You are the wrong sort of breed for common shirking cowards. Why, man, you might get the Victoria Cross ten times over with ease, asfar as that goes. Only you wouldn't, for you are something much moresubtle and recondite than a coward. "

It was Lewis's turn for the request. "I am prepared to hear, " he said. 

"A fool! An arrant, extraordinary fool! A fool of quality and parts, afool who is the best fellow in the world and who has every virtue a mancan wish, but at the same time a conspicuous monument of folly. And itis this that I have come to speak about. "

Lewis sat back in his chair with his eyes fixed on the glowing coal. 

"I want you to make it all plain, " he said slowly. "I know it allalready; I have got the dull, dead consciousness of it in my heart, butI want to hear it put into words. " And he set his lips like a man inpain. 

"It is hard, " said Wratislaw, "devilish hard, but I've got to try. " Heknocked out the ashes from his pipe and leaned forward. 

"What would you call the highest happiness, Lewie?" he asked. 

"The sense of competence, " was the answer, given without hesitation. 

"Right. And what do we mean by competence? Not success! God knows itis something very different from success! Any fool may be successful, if the gods wish to hurt him. Competence means that splendid joy inyour own powers and the approval of your own heart, which great men feelalways and lesser men now and again at favoured intervals. There are acertain number of things in the world to be done, and we have got to dothem. We may fail--it doesn't in the least matter. We may get killedin the attempt--it matters still less. The things may not altogether beworth doing--it is of very little importance. It is ourselves we havegot to judge by. If we are playing our part well, and know it, then wecan thank God and go on. That is what I call happiness. "

"And I, " said Lewis. 

"And how are you to get happiness? Not by thinking about it. The greatthings of the world have all been done by men who didn't stop to reflecton them. If a man comes to a halt and analyses his motives anddistrusts the value of the thing he strives for, then the odds are thathis halt is final. You strive to strive and not to attain. A man musthave that direct practical virtue which forgets itself and sees only itswork. Parsons will tell you that all virtue is self-sacrifice, and theyare right, though not in the way they mean. It may all seem a tissue ofcontradictions. You must not pitch on too fanciful a goal, nor, on theother hand, must you think on yourself. And it is a contradiction whichonly resolves itself in practice, one of those anomalies on which theworld is built up. "

Lewis nodded his head. 

"And the moral of it all is that there are two sorts of people who willnever do any good on this planet. One is the class which makes formulasand shallow little ideals its gods and has no glimpse of human needs andthe plain issues of life. The other is the egotist whose eye is alwaysfilled with his own figure, who investigates his motives, and hesitatesand finicks, till Death knocks him on the head and there is an end ofhim. Of the two give me the second, for even a narrow littleegotistical self is better than a formula. But I pray to be deliveredfrom both. "

"'Then who shall stand if Thou, O Lord, dost mark iniquity?'" Lewisquoted. 

"There are two men only who will not be ashamed to look their work inthe face in the end--the brazen opportunist and the rigid Puritan. Suppose you had some desperate frontier work to get through with and abody of men to pick for it, whom would you take? Not the ordinary, colourless, respectable being, and still less academic nonentities! IfI had my pick, my companions should either be the narrowest religionistsor frank, unashamed blackguards. I should go to the Calvinists and thefanatics for choice, but if I could not get them then I should have therankers. For, don't you see, the first would have the fear of God inthem, and that somehow keeps a man from fearing anything else. Theywould do their work because they believed it to be their duty. And thesecond would have the love of the sport in them, and they should also bemade to dwell in the fear of me. They would do their work because theyliked it, and liked me, and I told them to do it. "

"I agree with you absolutely, " said Lewis. "I never thought otherwise. "

"Good, " said Wratislaw. "Now for my application. You've had themisfortune to fall between the two stools, Lewie. You're too clever fora Puritan and too good for a ranker. You're too finicking andhigh-strung and fanciful for a prosaic world. You think yourself thelaughing philosopher with an infinite appreciation of everything, andyet you have not the humour to stand aside and laugh at yourself. "

"I am a coward, as I have told you, " said the other dourly. 

"No, you are not. But you can't bring yourself down to the world ofcompromises, which is the world of action. You have lost the practicaltouch. You muddled your fight with Stocks because you couldn't get outof touch with your own little world in practice, however you mightmanage it in theory. You can't be single-hearted. Twenty impulses arealways pulling different ways with you, and the result is that youbecome an unhappy, self-conscious waverer. "

Lewis was staring into the fire, and the older man leaned forward andput his hand very tenderly on his shoulder. 

"I don't want to speak about the thing which gives you most pain, oldchap; but I think you have spoiled your chances in the same way inanother matter-the most important matter a man can have to do with, though it ill becomes a cynical bachelor like myself to say it. "

"I know, " said Lewis dismally. 

"You see it is the Nemesis of your race which has overtaken you. Therich, strong blood of you Haystouns must be given room or it sours intomoodiness. It is either a spoon or a spoiled horn with you. You arecapable of the big virtues, and just because of it you areextraordinarily apt to go to the devil. Not the ordinary devil, ofcourse, but to a very effective substitute. You want to be braced andpulled together. A war might do it, if you were a soldier. A religiousenthusiasm would do it, if that were possible for you. As it is, I havesomething else, which I came up to propose to you. "

Lewis faced round in an attitude of polite attention. But his eyes hadno interest in them. 

"You know Bardur and the country about there pretty well?"

Lewis nodded. 

"Also I once talked to you about a man called Marka. Do you remember?"

"Yes, of course I do. The man who went north from Bardur the weekbefore I turned up there?"

"Well, there's trouble brewing thereabouts. You know the Taghaticountry up beyond the Russian line. Things are in a ferment there, great military preparations and all the rest of it, and the reason, theysay, is that the hill-tribes in the intervening No-man's-land are attheir old games. Things look very ugly abroad just now, and we can'tafford to neglect anything when a crisis may be at the door. So we wanta man to go out there and find out the truth. "

Lewis had straightened himself and was on his feet before Wratislaw haddone. "Upon my word, " he cried, "if it isn't what I expected! We havebeen far too sure of the safety of that Kashmir frontier. You mean, ofcourse, that there may be a chance of an invasion?"

"I mean nothing. But things look ugly enough in Europe just now, andAsia would naturally be the starting-point. "

Lewis made some rapid calculations in his head which he jotted on thewood of the fireplace. "It would take a week to get from Bardur toTaghati by the ordinary Kashmir rate of travelling, but of course theplace is unknown and it might take months. One would have to try it?"

"I can only give you the bare facts. If you decide to go, Beauregardwill give you particulars in town. "

"When would he want to know?"

"At once. I go back to-morrow morning, and I must have your answerwithin three days. You would be required to start within a week. Youcan take time and quiet to make up your mind. "

"It's a great chance, " said Lewis. "Does Beauregard think itimportant?"

"Of the highest importance. Also, of course it is dangerous. Thetravelling is hard, and you may be knocked on the head at any moment asa spy. "

"I don't mind that, " said the other, flushing. "I've been through thesame thing before. "

"I need not say the work will be very difficult. Remember that yourerrand will not be official, so in case of failure or trouble we couldnot support you. We might even have to disclaim all responsibility. Inthe event of success, on the other hand, your fortune is something morethan made. "

"Would you go?" came the question. 

"No, " said Wratislaw, "I shouldn't. "

"But if you were in my place?"

"I should hope that I would, but then I might not have the courage. Iam giving you the brave man's choice, Lewie. You will be going out touncertainty and difficulty and extreme danger. On the other hand, Ibelieve in my soul it will harden you into the man you ought to be. Lord knows I would rather have you stay at home!"

The younger man looked up for a second and saw something in Wratislaw'sface which made him turn away his eyes. The look of honest regret cuthim to the heart. Those friends of his, of whom he was in nowiseworthy, made the burden of his self-distrust doubly heavy. 

"I will tell you within three days, " he said hoarsely. "God bless you, Tommy. I don't deserve to have a man like you troubling himself aboutme. "

It was his one spoken tribute to their friendship; and both, with thenervousness of honest men in the presence of emotion, hastened to changethe subject. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FURTHER BRINK

Wratislaw left betimes the next morning, and a long day faced Lewis withevery hour clamouring for a decision. George would be back by noon, andbefore his return he must seek quiet and the chances of reflection. Hewas happy with a miserable fluctuating happiness. Of a sudden hishorizon was enlarged, but as he gazed it seemed to narrow again. Hismind was still unplumbed; somewhere in its depths might lie theshrinking and unwillingness which would bind him to the dreary present. 

He went out to the autumn hills and sought the ridge which runs formiles on the lip of the glen. It was a grey day, with snow waiting incloud-banks in the north sky and a thin wind whistling through thepines. The scene matched his humour. He was in love for the momentwith the stony and stormy in life. He hungered morbidly forill-fortune, something to stamp out the ease in his soul, and weld himinto the form of a man. 

He had got his chance and the rest lay with himself. It was a chance ofhigh adventure, a great mission, a limitless future. At the thought theold fever began to rise in his blood. The hot, clear smell of rock andsand, the brown depths of the waters, the far white peaks running upamong the stars, all spoke to him with the long-remembered call. Oncemore he should taste life, and, alert in mind and body, hold up his chinamong his fellows. It would be a contest of wits, and for all hiscowardice this was not the contest he shrank from. 

And then there came back on him, like a flood, the dumb misery ofincompetence which had weighed on heart and brain. The hatred of thewhole struggling, sordid crew, all the cant and ugliness and ignoranceof a mad world, his weakness in the face of it, his fall from commonvirtue, his nerveless indolence--all stung him like needle points, tillhe cried out in agony. Anything to deliver his soul from such abondage, and in his extreme bitterness his mind closed with Wratislaw'soffer. 

He felt--and it is a proof of his weakness--a certain nameless feelingof content when he had once forced himself into the resolution. Now atleast he had found a helm and a port to strain to. As his fancy dweltupon the mission and drew airy pictures of the land, he found to hisdelight a boyish enthusiasm arising. Old simple pleasures seemed forthe moment dear. There was a zest for toils and discomforts, atolerance of failure, which had been aforetime his chief traveller'sheritage. 

And then as he came to the ridge where the road passes from Glenavelinto Glen Adler, he stopped as in duty bound to look at the famousprospect. You stand at the shedding of two streams; behind, the greenand woodland spaces of the pastoral Avelin; at the feet, a land ofstones and dwarf junipers and naked rifts in the hills, withwhite-falling waters and dark shadows even at midday. And then, beyondand afar, the lines of hill-land crowd upon each other till the eye islost in a mystery of grey rock and brown heather and single bald peaksrising sentinel-like in the waste. The grey heavens lent a chilleeriness to the dim grey distances; the sharp winds, the forerunners ofsnow, blew over the moors like blasts from a primeval night. 

By an odd vagary of temper the love of these bleak hills blazed upfiercely in his heart. Never before had he felt so keenly the namelessglamour of his own heritage. He had not been back six months and yet hehad come to accept all things as matters of course, the beauty of theplace, its sport, its memories. Rarely had he felt that intimate joy init which lies at the bottom of all true souls. There is a sentimentwhich old poets have made into songs and called the "Lilt of theHeather, " and which is knit closer to man's heart than love of wife orkin or his own fair fortune. It had not come to him in the time of thehills' glory, but now on the brink of winter the far-off melancholy ofthe place and its infinite fascination seemed to clutch at hisheart-strings. It was his own land, the place of his fathers; and nowhe must sever himself from it and carry only a barren memory. 

And yet he felt no melancholy. Rather it was the immortal gaiety of thewanderer, to whom the homeland is dearest as a memory, who pitches hiscamp by waters of Babylon and yet as ever the old word on his lip, theold song in his ear, and the kindly picture in his heart. Strange thatit is the little races who wander farthest and yet have the eternalhome-sickness! And yet not strange, for to the little peoples, theirland, bare and uncouth and unfriendly for the needs of life, must bemore the ideal, the dream, than the satisfaction. The lush countriesgive corn and wine for their folks, the little bare places afford nomore than a spiritual heritage. Yet spiritual it is, and for two menwho in the moment of their extremity will think on meadow, woodland, orplacid village, a score will figure the windy hill, the grey lochan, andthe mournful sea. 

For the moment he felt a self-pity which he cast from him. To thisdegradation at least he should never come. But as the thought of Alicecame up ever and again, his longing for her seemed to be changed fromhot pain to a chastened regret. The red hearth-fire was no more in hisfancy. The hunger for domesticity had gone, and the girl was now lessthe wife he had desired than the dream of love he had vainly followed. As he came back across the moors, for the first time for weeks hisjealous love left him at peace. His had been a fanciful Sylvia, "holy, fair, and wise"; and what if mortal Sylvia were unkind, there was yetcomfort in this elusive lady of his memories. 

He found George at the end of a second breakfast, a very ruddy, happyyoung man hunting high and low for a lost tobacco-jar. 

"Oh, first-class, " he said in answer to Lewis's question. "Out and outthe best day's shooting I've had in my life. You were an ass not tocome, you know. A lot of your friends there, tremendously disappointedtoo, and entrusted me with a lot of messages for you which I haveforgotten. "

His companion's high spirits infected Lewis and he fell into cheerygossip. Then he could contain the news no more. 

"I had Tommy up last night on a flying visit. He says that Beauregardwants me to go out to Kashmir again. There has been some threatening ofa row up there, and he thinks that as I know the place I might be ableto get good information. "

"Official?" asked George. 

"Practically, yes; but in theory it's quite off my own bat, and they aregood enough to tell me that they will not acknowledge responsibility. However, it's a great chance and I am going. "

"Good, " said the other, and his face and voice had settled into gravity. "Pretty fair sport up in those parts, isn't there?"

"Pretty fair? it's about the best in the world. Your ordinary man whogoes the grand tour comes home raving about the sport in the Himalayanfoothills, and it's not to be named with this. "

"Good chance too of a first-rate row, isn't there? Natives troublesome, and Russia near, and that sort of thing?" George's manner showed agrowing enthusiasm. 

"A rather good chance. It is about that I'm going, you know. "

"Then if you don't mind, I am coming with you. "

Lewis stared, incredulous. 

"It's quite true. I am serious enough. I am doing nothing at the Bar, and I want to travel, proper travelling, where you are not coddled withrailways and hotels. "

"But it's hideously risky, and probably very arduous and thankless. Youwill tire of it in a week. "

"I won't, " said George, "and in any case I'll make my book for that. You must let me come, Lewie. I simply couldn't stand your going offalone. "

"But I may have to leave you. There are places where one can go whentwo can't. "

"When you come to that sort of place I'll stay behind. I'll be quiteunder your orders. "

"Well, at any rate take some time to think over it. "

"Bless you, I don't want time to think over it, " cried George. "I knowmy own mind. It's the chance I've been waiting on for years. "

"Thanks tremendously then, my dear chap, " said Lewis, very ill at ease. "It's very good of you. I must wire at once to Tommy. "

"I'll take it down, if you like. I want to try that new mare of yoursin the dog-cart. "

When his host had left the room George forgot to light his pipe, butwalked instead to the window and whistled solemnly. "Poor old man, " hesaid softly to himself, "it had to come to this, but I'm hanged if hedoesn't take it like a Trojan. " And he added certain striking commentson the ways of womankind and the afflictions of life, which, beingexpressed in Mr. Winterham's curious phraseology, need not be set down. 

Alice had gone out after lunch to walk to Gledsmuir, seeking in thebitter cold and the dawning storm the freshness which comes fromconflict. All the way down the glen the north wind had stung her cheeksto crimson and blown stray curls about her ears; but when she left thelittle market-place to return she found a fine snow powdering the earth, and a haze creeping over the hills which threatened storm. A mile ofthe weather delighted her, but after that she grew weary. When the fallthickened she sought the shelter of a way-side cottage, with the purposeof either sending to Glenavelin for a carriage or waiting for theoff-chance of a farmer's gig. 

By four o'clock the snow showed no sign of clearing, but fell in thesame steady, noiseless drift. The mistress of the place made the girltea and dispatched her son to Glenavelin. But the errand would taketime, for the boy was small, and Alice, ever impatient, stood drummingon the panes, watching the dreary weather with a dreary heart. Thegoodwife was standing at the door on the look-out for a passing gig, andher cry brought the girl to attention. 

"I see a machine comin'! I think it's the Etterick dowg-cairt. Ye'llget a drive in it. "

Alice had gone to the door, and lo! through the thick fall a dog-cartcame into view driven by a tall young man. He recognized her at once, and drew up. 

"Hullo, Miss Wishart! Storm-stayed? Can I help you?"

The girl looked distrustfully at the very restless horse and he caughther diffidence. 

"Don't be afraid. 'What I don't know about 'oases ain't worthknowin', '" he quoted with a laugh; and leaning forward he prepared toassist her to mount. 

There was nothing for it but to accept, and the next minute she foundherself in the high seat beside him. Her wraps, sufficient for walking, were scarcely sufficient for a snowy drive, and this, to his credit, theyoung man saw. He unbuttoned his tweed shooting-cape, and gravely putit round her. A curious dainty figure she made with her face all brightwith wind, framed in the great grey cloak. 

The horse jibbed for a second and then swung along the wild road withthe vigorous ease of good blood skilfully handled. George was puzzlinghis brain all the while as to how he should tell his companion somethingwhich she ought to know. The strong drift and the turns of the roadclaimed much of his attention, so it is possible that he blurted out hisnews somewhat baldly. 

"Do you know, Miss Wishart, that Lewis Haystoun and I are going off nextweek? Abroad, you know. "

The girl, who had been enjoying the ecstasy of swift motion through thebitter weather, glanced up at him with pain in her eyes. 

"Where?" she asked. 

"To the Indian frontier. We are going to be special unpaid unofficialmembers of the Intelligence Department. "

She asked the old, timid woman's question about danger. 

"It's where Lewis was before. Only, you see, things have got into amess thereabouts, and the Foreign Office has asked him to go out again. By the by, you mustn't tell any one about this, for it's in strictconfidence. "

The words were meaningless, and yet they sent a pang through her heart. Had he no guess at her inmost feelings? Could he think that she wouldtalk to Mr. Stocks of a thing which was bound up for her with all thesorrow and ecstasy of life?

He looked down and saw that her face had paled and that her mouth wasdrawn with some emotion. A sudden gleam of light seemed to break inupon him. 

"Are you sorry?" he asked half-unwittingly. 

For answer the girl turned her tragic eyes upon him, tried to speak, andfaltered. He cursed him-self for a fool and a brute, and whipped up analready over-active horse, till it was all but unmanageable. It was awise move, for it absorbed his attention and gave the poor child at hisside a chance to recover her composure. 

They came to Glenavelin gates and George turned in. "I had better driveyou to the door, in this charming weather, " he said. The sight of thepale little face had moved him to deep pity. He cursed his blindness, the blindness of a whole world of fools, and at the same time, with theimpotence of the honest man, he could only wait and be silent. 

At the door he stopped to unbutton his cape from her neck, and even inhis nervousness he felt the trembling of her body. She spoke rapidlyand painfully. 

"I want you to take a message from me to--to--Lewis. Tell him I mustsee him. Tell him to come to the Midburn foot, to-morrow in theafternoon. Oh, I am ashamed to ask you, but you must tell him. " Andthen without thanks or good-bye she fled into the house. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE BRIDGE OF BROKEN HEARTS

Listless leaves were tossing in the light wind or borne downward in theswirl of the flooded Midburn, to the weary shallows where they lay, beached high and sodden, till the frost nipped and shrivelled theirrottenness into dust. A bleak, thin wind it was, like a fine sour wine, searching the marrow and bringing no bloom to the cheek. A light snowpowdered the earth, the grey forerunner of storms. 

Alice stood back in the shelter of the broken parapet. The highway withits modern crossing-place was some hundreds of yards up stream, buthere, at the burn mouth, where the turbid current joined with the cold, glittering Avelin, there was a grass-grown track, and an ancient, broken-backed bridge. There were few passers on the high-road, none onthis deserted way; but the girl in all her loneliness shrank back intothe shadow. In these minutes she endured the bitter mistrust, the sorehesitancy, of awaiting on a certain but unknown grief. 

She had not long to wait, for Lewis came down the Avelin side by abypath from Etterick village. His alert gait covered his very realconfusion, but to the girl he seemed one who belonged to an alien worldof cheerfulness. He could not know her grief, and she regretted hercoming. 

His manners were the same courteous formalities. The man was torn withemotion, and yet he greeted her with a conventional ease. 

"It was so good of you, Miss Wishart, to give me a chance to come andsay good-bye. My going is such a sudden affair, that I might have hadno time to come to Glenavelin, but I could not have left without seeingyou. "

The girl murmured some indistinct words. "I hope you will have a goodtime and come back safely, " she said, and then she was tongue-tied. 

The two stood before each other, awkward and silent--two between whom noword of love had ever been spoken, but whose hearts were clamouring atthe iron gates of speech. 

Alice's face and neck were dyed crimson, as the impossible positiondawned on her mind. No word could break down the palisade, of form. Lewis, his soul a volcano, struggled for the most calm and inept words. He spoke of the weather, of her father, of his aunt's messages. 

Then the girl held out her hand. 

"Good-bye, " she said, looking away from him. 

He held it for a second. "Good-bye, Miss Wishart, " he said hoarsely. Was this the consummation of his brief ecstasy, the end of months oflonging? The steel hand of fate was on him and he turned to leave. 

He turned when he had gone three paces and came back. The girl wasstill standing by the parapet, but she had averted her face towards thewintry waters. His step seemed to fall on deaf ears, and he stoodbeside her before she looked towards him. 

Passion had broken down his awkwardness. He asked the old question witha shaking voice. "Alice, " he said, "have I vexed you?"

She turned to him a pale, distraught face, her eyes brimming over withthe sorrow of love, the passionate adventurous longing which claims truehearts for ever. 

He caught her in his arms, his heart in a glory of joy. 

"Oh, Alice, darling, " he cried. "What has happened to us? I love you, I love you, and you have never given me a chance to say it. "

She lay passive in his arms for one brief minute and then feebly drewback. 

"Sweetheart, " he cried. "Sweetheart! For I will call you sweetheart, though we never meet again. You are mine, Alice. We cannot helpourselves. "

The girl stood as in a trance, her eyes caught and held by his face. 

"Oh, the misery of things, " she said half-sobbing. "I have given mysoul to another, and I knew it was not mine to give. Why, oh why, didyou not speak to me sooner? I have been hungering for you and you nevercame. "

A sense of his folly choked him. 

"And I have made you suffer, poor darling! And the whole world is outof joint for us!"

The hopeless feeling of loss, forgotten for a moment, came back to him. The girl was gone from him for ever, though a bridge of hearts shouldalways cross the chasm of their severance. 

"I am going away, " he said, "to make reparation. I have my repentanceto work out, and it will be bitterer than yours, little woman. Oursmust be an austere love. "

She looked at him till her pale face flushed and a sad exultation wokein her eyes. 

"You will never forget?" she asked wistfully, confident of the answer. 

"Forget!" he cried. "It is my only happiness to remember. I am goingaway to be knocked about, dear. Wild, rough work, but with a man'schances!"

For a moment she let another thought find harbour in her mind. Was thepast irretrievable, the future predetermined? A woman's word had an oldright to be broken. If she went to him, would not he welcome hergladly, and the future might yet be a heritage for both?

The thought endured but a moment, for she saw how little simple was thecrux of her destiny. The two of them had been set apart by the fates;each had salvation to work out alone; no facile union would ever jointhem. For him there was the shaping of a man's path; for her theillumination which only sorrows and parting can bring. And with thethought she thought kindly of the man to whom she had pledged her word. It was but a little corner of her heart he could ever possess; butdoubtless in such matters he was not ambitious. 

Lewis walked by her side down the by-path towards Glenavelin. Tragedymuffled in the garments of convention was there, not the old picturesqueTragic with sword and cloak and steel for the enemy, but the silentTragic which pulls at the heart-strings. 

"The summer is over, " she said. "It has been a cruel summer, but verybright. "

"Romance with the jarring modern note which haunts us all to-day, " hesaid. "This upland country is confused with bustling politics, andpastoral has been worried to death by sickness of heart. You cannotfind the old peaceful life without. "

"And within?" she asked. 

"That is for you and me to determine, dear. God grant it. I have foundmy princess, like the man in the fairy-tale, but I may not enter thekingdom. "

"And the poor princess must sit and mope in her high stone tower? It isa hard world for princesses. "

"Hard for the knights, too, for they cannot come back and carry offtheir ladies. In the old days it used to be so, but then simplicity hasgone out of life. "

"And the princess waits and watches and cries herself to sleep?

"And the knight goes off to the World's End and never forgets. "

They were at Glenavelin gates now, and stood silent against the momentof parting. She flew to his arms, for a second his kisses were on herlips, and then came the sundering. A storm of tears was in her heart, but with dry eyes she said the words of good-bye. Meanwhile from thehills came a drift of snow, and a dreary wind sang in the pines thedirge of the dead summer, the plaint of long farewells. 

PART II

CHAPTER XX

THE EASTERN ROAD

If you travel abroad in certain seasons you will find that a typepredominates among the travellers. From Dover to Calais, from Calais toParis, there is an unnatural eagerness on faces, an unrest in gait, adisorder in dress which argues worry and haste. And if you inquirefurther, being of a speculative turn, you will find that there issomething in the air. The papers, French and English, have uglyheadlines and mystic leaders. Disquiet is in the atmosphere, each manhas a solution or a secret, and far at the back sits some body of menwho know that a crisis is near and square their backs for it. Thejournalist is sick with work and fancied importance; the diplomat's hairwhitens with the game which he cannot understand; the statesman, if hebe wise, is in fear, knowing the meaning of such movements, while, if hebe foolish, he chirps optimistically in his speeches and is applauded inthe press. There are grey faces at the seats of the money-changers, forwar, the scourge of small cords, seems preparing for the overturning oftheir tables, and the castigation of their persons. 

Lewis and George rang the bell in the Faubourg St. Honoré on a Mondayafternoon, and asked for Lord Rideaux. His lordship was out, but, ifthey were the English gentlemen who had the appointment with M. Gribton, Monsieur would be with them speedily. 

Lewis looked about the heavily furnished ante-room with its pale yellowwalls and thick, green curtains, with the air of a man trying to recalla memory. "I came over here with John Lambert, when his father had theplace. That was just after I left Oxford. Gad, I was a happy man then. I thought I could do anything. They put me next to Madame de Ravignetbecause of my French, and because old Ankerville declared that I oughtto know the cleverest woman in Europe. Séry, the man who was Premierlast year, came and wrung my hand afterwards, said my fortune wasassured because I had impressed the Ravignet, and no one had ever doneit before except Bismarck. Ugh, the place is full of ghosts Poor oldJohn died a year after, and here am I, far enough, God knows, from mygood intentions. "

A servant announced "Monsieur Gribton, " and a little grizzled manhobbled in, leaning heavily on a stick. He wore a short beard, and inhis tanned face two clever grey eyes twinkled sedately. He shook handsgravely when Lewis introduced George, but his eyes immediately returnedto the former's face. 

"You look a fit pair, " he said. "I am instructed to give you all thehelp in my power, but I should like to know your game. It isn't sportthis time, is it, Haystoun? Logan is still talking about his week withyou. Well, well, we can do things at our leisure. I have letters towrite, and then it will be dinner-time, when we can talk. Come to theclub at eight, 'Cercle des Voyageurs, ' corner of Rue Neuve de St. Michel. I expect you belong, Haystoun; and anyway I'll be there. "

He bowed them out with his staccato apologies, and the two returned totheir hotel to dress. Two hours later they found Gribton warming hishands in the smoking-room of the Cercle, a fussy and garrulousgentleman, eager for his dinner. He pointed out such people as he knew, and was consumed with curiosity about the others. Lewis wandered aboutthe room before he sat down, shaking hands with several and nodding tomany. 

"You seem to know the whole earth, " said Gribton. 

"I suppose that a world of acquaintance is the only reward ofslackness, " Lewis said, laughing. "It's a trick I have. I never forgeta face and I honestly like to see people again. "

George pulled his long moustache. "It's simply hideous the way one isforgotten. It's all right for the busy people, for they shift theirsets with their fortune, but for drones like me it's the saddest thingin life. Before we came away, Lewie, I went up for a day to Oxford tosee about some things, and stopped a night there. I haven't been downlong, and yet I knew nobody at the club except the treasurer, and he hadnothing to say to me except to ask after you. I went to dinner with thedons at the high table, and I nearly perished of the blues. LittleRiddell chirped about my profession, and that bounder Jackson, who wasof our year, pretended that he had been your bosom friend. I got sobored that I left early and wandered back to the club. Somebody wasmaking a racket in our old rooms in the High, windows open, you know, and singing. I stopped to look at them, and then they started, 'Williebrewed a peck o' maut, ' and, 'pon my soul, I had to come away. Couldn'tstand it. It reminded me so badly of you and Arthur and old JohnLambert, and all the honest men that used to be there. It wasinfernally absurd that I should have got so sentimental, but that wasn'tthe worst of it. For I met Tony and he made me come round to a dinner, and there I found people I didn't know from Adam drinking the old toastswe started. Gad, they had them all. 'Las Palmas, ' 'The Old Guard, ''The Wandering Scot, ' and all the others. It made me feel as low as anowl, and when I got back to the club and saw poor old John's photographon the wall, I tell you I went to bed in the most wretched melancholy. "

Lewis stared open-mouthed at George, the irrepressible, in this newattitude. He, as the hardened traveller, had had little more than adecent pang of home-sickness. His regret was far deeper and more realthan the sentimental article of commerce, and he could afford to bealmost gay while George sat in the depths. 

"I'm coming home, and I'm not happy; you young men are going out, andyou have got the blues. There's no pleasing weak humanity. I say, Haystoun, who's that old man?" Gribton's jovial looks belied his words. 

Lewis mentioned a name for his host's benefit. The room was emptyingrapidly, for the Cercle dined early. 

"Now for business, " said Gribton, when a waiter had brought the gamecourse, and they sat in the midst of a desert of linen and velvet. "Ihave given the thing up, but I spent twenty of my best years at Bardur. So, as I am instructed to do all in my power to aid you, I am ready. First, is it sport?

"Partly, " said George, but Lewis's head gave denial. 

"Because, if it is, I am not the best man. Well, then, is itgeographical? For if it is, there is much to be done. "

"Partly, " said Lewis. 

"Then I take it that the residue is political. You are following thepopular avenue to polities, I suppose. Leave the 'Varsity very raw, knock about in an unintelligent way for three or four years on somefrontier, then come home, go into the House, and pose as a specialist inforeign affairs. I should have thought you had too much humour forthat. "

"Only, you see, I have been there before. I am merely going back uponmy tracks to make sure. I go purely as an adventurer, hoping to pick upsome valuable knowledge, but prepared to fail. "

Gribton helped himself to champagne. "That's better. Now I know yourattitude, we can talk like friends. Better come to the smallsmoking-room. They've got a '51 brandy here which is beyond words. Have some for a liqueur. "

In the smoking-room Gribton fussed about coffee and cigars for manyminutes ere he settled down. Then, when he could gaze around and seehis two guests in deep armchairs, each smoking and comfortable, hereturned to his business. 

"I don't mind telling you a secret, " he said, "or rather it's only asecret here, for once you get out there you will find 'Gribton's view, 'as they call it, well enough known and very much laughed at. I'vealways been held up to ridicule as an alarmist about that Kashmirfrontier, and especially about that Bardur country. Take the wholeprovince. It's well garrisoned on the north, but below that it is allempty and open. The way into the Punjab is as clear as daylight for aswift force, and the way to the Punjab is the way to India. "

Lewis rose and went to a rack on the wall. "Do you mind if I get downmaps? These French ones are very good. " He spread a sheet of canvas onthe table, thereby confounding all Gribton's hospitable manoeuvring. 

"There, " said Gribton, his eyes now free from drowsiness, and clear andbright, "that's the road I fear. "

"But these three inches are unknown, " said Lewis. "I have been myselfas far as these hills. "

Gribton looked sharply up. "You don't know the place as I know it. I've never been so far, but I know the sheep-skinned devils who comeacross from Turkestan. I tell you that place isn't the impenetrablecraggy desert that the Government of India thinks it. There's a roadthere of some sort, and if you're worth your salt you'll find it out. "

"I know, " said Lewis. "I am going to try. "

"There's another thing. For the last three years all that north part ofKashmir, and right away south-west to the Punjab borders, has beenhonoured with visits from plausible Russian gentlemen who may come downby the ordinary caravan routes, or, on the other hand, may not. Theyturn up quite suddenly with tooth-brushes and dressing-cases, and theycan't have come from the south. They fool around in Bardur, and then godown to Gilgit, and, I suppose, on to the Punjab. They've got excellentmanners, and they hang about the clubs and give dinners and charm thewhole neighbourhood. Logan is their bosom friend, and Thwaite declaresthat their society reconciles him to the place. Then they go away, andthe place keeps on the randan for weeks after. "

"Do you know a man called Marker by any chance?" Lewis asked. 

Gribton looked curiously at the speaker. "Have you actually heard abouthim? Yes, I know him, but not very well, and I can't say I ever caredfor him. However, he is easily the most popular man in Bardur, and Idaresay is a very good fellow. But you don't call him Russian. Ithought he was sort of half a Scotsman. "

"Very likely he is, " said Lewis. "I happen to have heard a good dealabout him. But what ails you at him?"

"Oh, small things, " and the man laughed. "You know I am getting elderlyand cranky, and I like a man to be very fair and four-square. I confessI never got to the bottom of the chap. He was a capital sportsman, goodbridge-player, head like a rock for liquor, and all that; but I'm hangedif he didn't seem to me to be playing some sort of game. Another thing, he seemed to me a terribly cold-blooded devil. He was always slappingpeople on the back and calling them 'dear old fellows, ' but I happenedto see a small interview once between him and one of his servants. Perhaps I ought not to mention it, but the thing struck me unpleasantly. It was below the club verandah, and nobody happened to be about exceptmyself, who was dozing after lunch. Marker was rating a servant in someBorder tongue--Chil, it sounded like; and I remember wondering how hecould have picked it up. I saw the whole thing through a chink in thefloor, and I noticed that the servant's face was as grey as a brownhillman's can be. Then the fellow suddenly caught his arm and twistedit round, the man's face working with pain, though he did not dare toutter a sound. It was an ugly sight, and when I caught a glimpse ofMarker's face, 'pon my soul, those straight black eyebrows of his gavehim a most devilish look. "

"What's he like to look at?" George asked. 

"Oh, he's rather tall, very straight, with a sort of military carriage, and he has one of those perfect oval faces that you sometimes see. Hehas most remarkable black eyes and very neat, thin eyebrows. He is thesort of man you'd turn round to look at if you once passed him in thestreet; and if you once saw him smile you'd begin to like him. It's theprettiest thing I've ever seen. "

"I expect I'll run across him somewhere, " said Lewis, "and I want badlyto know him. Would you mind giving me an introduction?"

"Charmed!" said Gribton. "Shall I write it now?" And sitting down at atable he scribbled a few lines, put them in an envelope, and gave it toLewis. 

"You are pretty certain to know him when you see him, so you can givehim that line. You might run across him anywhere from Hyderabad toRawal Pinch, and in any case you'll hear word of him in Bardur. He'sthe man for your purpose; only, as I say, I never liked him. I suspecta loop somewhere. "

"What are Logan and Thwaite like?" Lewis asked. 

"Easy-going, good fellows. Believe in God and the British Government, and the inherent goodness of man. I am rather the other way, so theycall me a cynic and an alarmist. "

"But what do you fear?" said George. "The place is well garrisoned. "

"I fear four inches in that map of unknown country, " said Gribtonshortly. "The people up there call it a 'God-given rock-wall, ' and ofcourse there is no force to speak of just near it. But a tribe ofdevils incarnate, who call themselves the Bada-Mawidi, live on itsskirts, and there must be a road through it. It isn't the caravanroute, which goes much farther east and is plain enough. But I knowenough of the place to know that every man who comes over the frontierto Bardur does not come by the high-road. "

"But what could happen? Surely Bardur is strongly garrisoned enough toblock any secret raid. "

"It isn't bad in its way, if the people were not so slack and easy. They might rise to scratch, but, on the other hand, they might not, andonce past Bardur you have the open road to India, if you march quickenough. "

"Then you have no man sufficiently adventurous there to do a littleexploring?"

"None. They care only about shooting, and there happens to be little inthose rocks. Besides, they trust in God and the Government of India. Ididn't, so I became unpopular, and was voted a bore. But the work iswaiting for you young men. "

Gribton rose, yawned, and stretched himself. "Shall I tell you anymore?"

"I don't think so, " said Lewis, smiling; "I fancy I understand, and I amsure we are obliged to you. Hadn't we better have a game?"

They went to the billiard-room and played two games of a hundred up, both of which George, who had the idler's knack in such matters, wonwith ease. Gribton played so well that he became excessivelygood-humoured. 

"I almost wish I was going out again if I had you two as company. Wedon't get the right sort out there. Our globe-trotters all want to showtheir cleverness, or else they are merely fools. You will find itmiserably dull. Nothing but bad claret and cheap champagne at theclubs, a cliquey set of English residents, and the sort of stock sportof which you tire in a month. That's what you may expect our frontiertowns to be like. "

"And the neighbourhood?" said Lewis, with lifted eyebrows. 

"Oh, the neighbourhood is wonderful enough; but our people there are tooslack and stale to take advantage of it. It is a peaceful frontier, youknow, and men get into a rut as easily there as elsewhere. Thecountry's too fat and wealthy, and people begin to forget the skeletonup among the rocks in the north. "

"What are the garrisons like?"

"Good people, but far too few for a serious row, and just sufficientlylarge to have time hang on their hands. Our friends the Bada-Mawidi nowand then wake them up. I see from the _Temps_ that a great stirring ofthe tribes in the Southern Pamirs is reported. I expect that news cameoverland through Russia. It's the sort of canard these gentry arealways getting up to justify a massing of troops on the Amu Daria inorder that some new governor may show his strategic skill. I daresayyou may find things a little livelier than I found them. "

As they went towards the Faubourg St. Honoré a bitter Parisnorth-easter had begun to drift a fine powdered snow in their eyes. Gribton shivered and turned up the collar of his fur coat. "Ugh, Ican't stand this. It makes me sick to be back. Thank your stars thatyou are going to the sun and heat, and out of this hideous greyweather. "

They left him at the Embassy, and turned back to their hotel. 

"He's a useful man, " said Lewis, "he has given us a cue; life will bepretty well varied out there for you and me, I fancy. "

Then, as they entered a boulevard, and the real sweep of the wind mettheir faces, both men fell strangely silent. To George it was the lastword of the north which they were leaving, and his recent home-sicknesscame back and silenced him. But to Lewis, his mind already busy withhis errand, this sting of wind was the harsh disturber which carried himback to a lonely home in a cold, upland valley. It was the wintryweather which was his own, and Alice's face, framed in a cloak, as hehad seen it at the Broken Bridge, rose in the gallery of his heart. Ina moment he was disillusioned. Success, enterprise, new lands and facesseemed the most dismal vexation of spirit. With a very bitter heart hewalked home, and, after the fashion of his silent kind, gave no sign ofhis mood save by a premature and unreasonable retirement to bed. 

CHAPTER XXI

IN THE HEART OF THE HILLS

All around was stone and scrub, rising in terraces to the foot of sheercliffs which opened up here and there in nullahs and gave a glimpse ofgreat snow hills behind them. On one of the flat ridge-tops a littlevillage of stunted, slaty houses squatted like an ape, with a vigilanteye on twenty gorges. Thin, twisting paths led up to it, and before, onthe more clement slopes, some fields of grain were tilled as our Aryanforefathers tilled the soil on the plains of Turkestan. The place wasat least 8, 000 feet above the sea, so the air was highland, clear andpleasant, save for the dryness which the great stone deserts forced uponthe soft south winds. You will not find the place marked in any map, for it is a little beyond even the most recent geographer's ken, but itis none the less a highly important place, for the nameless village isone of the seats of that most active and excellent race of men, theBada-Mawidi, who are so old that they can afford to look down on theirneighbours from a vantage-ground of some thousands of years. It is wellknown that when God created the earth He first fashioned this tangle ofhill land, and set thereon a primitive Bada-Mawidi, the first of theclan, who was the ancestor, in the thousandth degree, of the excellentFazir Khan, the present father of the tribe. 

The houses clustered on the scarp and enclosed a piece of well-beatenground and one huge cedar tree. Sounds came from the near houses, butaround the tree itself the more privileged sat in solemn conclave. Foodand wine were going the round, for the Maulai kohammedans have no taboosin eating and drinking. Fazir Khan sat smoking next the tree trunk, ashort, sinewy man with a square, Aryan face, clear-cut and cruel. Hischiefs were around him, all men of the same type, showing curiously fairskins against their oiled black hair. A mullah sat cross-legged, hisstraggling beard in his lap, repeating some crazy charm to himself andlooking every now and again with anxious eyes to the guest who sat onthe chief's right hand. 

The guest was a long, thin man, clad in the Cossacks' fur lined militarycloak, under which his untanned riding-boots showed red in themoonlight. He was still busy eating goat's flesh, cheese and fruits, and drinking deeply from the sweet Hunza wine, like a man who had comefar and fast. He ate with the utmost disregard of his company. Hemight have been a hunter supping alone in the solitary hills for all thenotice he took of the fifty odd men around him. 

By and by be finished, pulled forth a little silver toothpick from aninner pocket, and reached a hand for the long cherry-wood pipe which hadbeen placed beside him. He lit it, and blew a few clouds into the calmair. 

"Now, Fazir Khan, " he said, "I am a new man, and we shall talk. First, have you done my bidding?"

"Thy bidding has been done, " said the great man sulkily. "See, I amhere with my chiefs. All the twenty villages of my tribe have beenwarned, and arms have been got from the fools at Bardur. Also, I havethe Yarkand powder I was told of, to give the signals on the hills. TheNazri Pass road, which we alone know, has been widened. What more couldman do?"

"That is well, " said the other. "It is well for you and your peoplethat you have done this. Your service shall not be forgotten. Otherwise--"

"Otherwise?" said the Fazir Khan, his hand travelling to his belt at thesound of a threat. 

The man laughed. "You know the tale, " he said. "Doubtless your mothertold you it when you clutched at her breast. Some day a great whitepeople from the north will come down and swallow up the disobedient. That day is now at hand. You have been wise in time. Therefore I sayit is well. "

The stranger spoke with perfect coolness. He looked round curiously atthe circle of dark faces and laughed quietly to himself. The chiefstole one look at him and then said something to a follower. 

"I need not speak of the reward, " said the stranger. "You are ourservants, and duty is duty. But I have authority for saying that weshall hold your work in mind when we have settled our business. "

"What would ye be without us?" said the chief in sudden temper. "Whatdo ye know of the Nazri gates or the hill country? What is this talk ofduty, when ye cannot stir a foot without our aid?"

"You are our servants, as I said before, " said the man curtly. "Youhave taken our gold and our food. Where would you be, outlaws, vagrantsthat you are, hated of God and man, but for our help? Your bodies wouldhave rotted long ago on the hills. The kites would be feeding on yoursons; your women would be in the Bokhara market. We have saved you adozen times from the vengeance of the English. When they wished to comeup and burn you out, we have put them past the project with smoothwords. We have fed you in famine, we have killed your enemies, we havegiven you life. You are freemen indeed in the face of the world, butyou are our servants. "

Fazir Khan made a gesture of impatience. "That is as God may directit, " he said. "Who are ye but a people of yesterday, while theBada-Mawidi is as old as the rocks. The English were here before you, and we before the English. It is right that youth should reverenceage. "

"That is one proverb, " said the man, "but there are others, and inespecial one to the effect that the man without a sword should bowbefore his brother who has one. In this game we are the people with thesword, my friends. "

The hillman shrugged his shoulders. His men looked on darkly, as iflittle in love with the stranger's manner of speech. 

"It is ill working in the dark, " he said at length. "Ye speak of thisattack and the aid you expect from us, but we have heard this talkbefore. One of your people came down with some followers in my father'stime, and his words were the same, but lo! nothing has yet happened. "

"Since your father's time things have changed, my brother. Then theEnglish were very much on the watch, now they sleep. Then there were noroads, or very bad ones, and before an army could reach the plains thewhole empire would have been wakened. Now, for their own undoing, theyhave made roads up to the very foot of yon mountains, and there is a newrailway down the Indus through Kohistan waiting to carry us into theheart of the Punjab. They seek out inventions for others to enjoy, asthe Koran says, and in this case we are to be the enjoyers. "

"But what if ye fail?" said the chief. "Ye will be penned up in thatHunza valley like sheep, and I, Fazir Khan, shall be unable to unlockthe door of that sheepfold. "

"We shall not fail. This is no war of rock-pigeons, my brothers. Ouragents are in every town and village from Bardur to Lahore. Thefrontier tribes, you among the rest, are rising in our favour. There isnothing to stop us but isolated garrisons of Gurkhas and Pathans, with afew overworked English officers at their head. In a week we shallcommand the north of India, and if we hold the north, in another week weshall hold Calcutta and Bombay. "

The chief nodded his head. Such far-off schemes pleased his fancy, butonly remotely touched his interest. Calcutta was beyond his ken, but heknew Bardur and Gilgit. 

"I have little love for the race, " he said. "They hanged two of myservants who ventured too near the rifle-room, and they shot my son inthe back when we raided the Chitralis. If ye and your friends cross theborder I will be with you. But meantime, till that day, what is myduty?"

"To wait in patience, and above all things to let the garrisons alone. If we stir up the hive in the valleys they may come and see things toosoon for our success. We must win by secrecy and surprise. All is lostif we cannot reach the railway before the Punjab is stirring. "

The mullah had ceased muttering to himself. He scrambled to his feet, shaking down his rags over his knees, a lean, crazy apparition of a manwith deep-set, smouldering eyes. 

"I will speak, " he cried. "Ye listen to the man's words and ye aresilent, believing all things. Ye are silent, my children, because yeknow not. But I am old and I have seen many things, and these are mywords. Ye speak of pushing out the English from the land. Allah knowsI love not the breed! I spit upon it, I thirst for the heart of everyman, woman, and child, that I might burn them in the sight of all ofyou. But I have heard this talk before. When I was a young priest atKufaz, there was word of this pushing out of the foreigner, and Irejoiced, being unwise. Then there was much fighting, and at the endmore English came up the valleys and, before we knew, we were payingtribute. Since then many of our people have gone down from themountains with the same thought, and they have never returned. Only theEnglish and the troops have crept nearer. Now this stranger talks ofhis Tsar and how an army will come through the passes, and foreignerwill fight with foreigner. This talk, too, I have heard. Once therecame a man with a red beard who spoke thus, and he went down to Bardur, and lo! our men told me that they saw him hanged there for a warning. Let foreigner war on foreigner if they please, but what have we to do inthe quarrel, my children? Ye owe nothing to either. "

The stranger regarded the speaker with calm eyes of amusement. 

"Nothing, " said he, "except that we have fed you and armed you. By yourown acts you are the servants of my master. "

The mullah was rapidly working himself into a frenzy. He swung his longbony arms across his breast and turned his face skywards. "Ye hearthat, my children. The free people, the Bada-Mawidi, of whose loinssprang Abraham the prophet, are the servants of some foreign dog in thenorth. If ye were like your fathers, ye would have long ago ere thiswiped out the taunt in blood. "

The man sat perfectly composed, save that his right hand had grasped arevolver. He was playing a bold game, but he had played it before. Andhe knew the man he had to deal with. 

"I say again, you are my master's servants by your own confession. Idid not say his slaves. You are a free people, but you will serve agreater in this affair. As for this dog who blasphemes, when we havesettled more important matters we will attend to him. "

The mullah was scarcely a popular member of his tribe, for no onestirred at the call. The stranger sat watching him with very bright, eager eyes. Suddenly the priest ceased his genuflexions, there was agleam of steel among his rags, then something bright flashed in the air. It fell short, because at the very moment of throwing, a revolver hadcracked out in the silence, and a bullet had broken two of his fingers. The man flung himself writhing on the ground, howling forthimprecations. 

The stranger looked half apologetically at the chief, whose glumdemeanour had never relaxed. "Sorry, " he said; "it had to be done inself-defence. But I ask your pardon for it. "

Fazir Khan nodded carelessly. "He is a disturber of peace, and to onewho cannot fight a hand matters little. But, by Allah, ye northernersshoot quick. "

The stranger relinquished the cherry-wood pipe and filled a meerschaumfrom a pouch which he carried in the pocket of his cloak. He took along drink from the loving-cup of mulled wine which was passing round. 

"Your mad priest has method in his folly, " he said. "It is true that weare attacking a great people; therefore the more need of wariness foryou and me, Fazir Khan. If we fail there will be the devil to pay foryou. The English will shift their frontier-line beyond the mountains, and there will be no more lifting of women and driving of cattle for theBada-Mawidi. You will all be sent to school, and your guns will betaken from you. "

The chief compressed his attractive features into a savage scowl. "Thatmay not be in my lifetime, " he said. "Besides, are there no mountainsall around? In five hours I shall be in China, and in a little more Imight be beyond the Amu. But why talk of this? The accursed Englishshall not escape us, I swear by the hilt of my sword and the hearts ofmy fathers. "

A subdued murmur of applause ran around the circle. 

"You are men after my own heart, " said the stranger. "Meanwhile, a wordin your own ear, Fazir Khan. Dare you come to Bardur with me?"

The chief made a gesture of repugnance. "I hate that place of mud andlime. The blood of my people cries on me when I enter the gates. Butif it is your counsel I will come with you. "

"I wish to assure myself that the place is quiet. Our success dependsupon the whole country being unsuspicious and asleep. Now if word hasgot to the south, and worse still to England, there will be questionsasked and vague instructions sent up to the frontier. We shall find astir among the garrisons, and perhaps some visitors in the place. Andat the very worst we might find some fool inquiring about the NazriPass. There was once a man in Bardur who did, but people laughed at himand he has gone. "

"Where?" asked the chief. 

"To England. But he was a harmless man, and he is too old to have anyvigour. "

As the darkness grew over the hills the fires were brightened and thecurious game of _khoti_ was played in groups of six. The women came tothe house-doors to sit and gossip, and listened to the harsh laughter oftheir lords from beside the fires. A little after midnight, when thestars were picked out in the deep, velvet sky, Fazir Khan and thestranger, both muffled to the ears, stole beyond the street andscrambled down the perilous path-ways to the south. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE OUTPOSTS

Towards the close of a wet afternoon two tongas discharged Lewis, George, two native servants, and a collection of gun-cases in thecourt-yard of the one hotel in Bardur. They had made a record journeyup country, stopping to present no letters of introduction, which arethe thieves of time. Now, as Lewis found himself in the strait valley, with the eternal snows where the sky should be, and sniffed the dry airfrom the granite walls, he glowed with the pleasure of recollection. 

The place was the same as ever. The same medley of races perambulatedthe streets. Sheep-skinned Central Asians and Mongolian merchants fromYarkand still displayed their wares and their cunning; Hunza tribesmen, half-clad Chitralis, wild-eyed savages from Yagistan mingled in thenarrow stone streets with the civilized Persian and Turcoman from beyondthe mountains. Kashmir sepoys, an untidy race, still took their ease inthe sun, and soldiers of South India from the Imperial Service Troopsshowed their odd accoutrements and queer race mixtures. The placelooked and smelled like a kind of home, and Lewis, with one eye on thegun-cases and one on the great hills, forgot his heart-sickness and hadleisure for the plain joys of expectation. 

"I am going to get to work at once, " he said, when he had washed thedust out of his eyes and throat. "I shall go and call on the Logansthis very minute, and I expect we shall see Thwaite and some of thesoldiers at the club to-night. " So George, much against his will, wascompelled to don a fresh suit and suffer himself to be conducted to thebungalow of the British Resident. 

The Sahib was from home, at Gilgit, but Madame would receive thestrangers. So the two found themselves in a drawing-room aggressivelyEnglish in its air, shaking hands with a small woman with kind eyes anda washed-out complexion. 

Mrs. Logan was unaffectedly glad to see them. She had that trick ofdominating her surroundings which English ladies seem to bear to theuttermost ends of the globe. There, in that land of snows and rock, with savage tribesmen not thirty miles away, and the Britishfrontier-line something less than fifty, she gave them tea and talkedsmall talk with the ease and gusto of an English country home. 

"It's the most unfortunate thing in the world, " she cried. "If you hadonly wired, Gilbert would have stayed, but as it is he has gone down toGilgit about some polo ponies, and won't be back for two days. Thingsare so humdrum and easy-going up here that one loses interest in one'sprofession. Gilbert has nothing to do except arrange with the foremanof the coolies who are making roads, and hold stupid courts, and consultwith Captain Thwaite and the garrison people. The result is that thepoor man has become crazy about golf, and wastes all his spare money onpolo ponies. You can have no idea what a godsend a new face is to uspoor people. It is simply delightful to see you again, Mr. Haystoun. You left us about sixteen months ago, didn't you? Did you enjoy goingback?"

Lewis said yes, with an absurd sense of the humour of the question. Thelady talked as if home had been merely an interlude, instead of thecrisis of his life. 

"And what did you do? And whom did you see? Please tell me, for I amdying for a gossip. "

"I have been home in Scotland, you know. Looking after my affairs andidling. I stood for Parliament and got beaten. "

"Really! How exciting! Where is your home in Scotland, Mr. Haystoun?You told me once, but I have forgotten. You know I have no end ofScotch relatives. "

"It's in rather a remote part, a place called Etterick, in Glenavelin. "

"Glenavelin, Glenavelin, " the lady repeated. "That's where theManorwaters live, isn't it?"

"My uncle, " said Lewis. 

"I had a letter from a friend who was staying there in the summer. Iwonder if you ever met her. A Miss Wishart. Alice Wishart?"

Lewis strove to keep any extraordinary interest out of his eyes. Thisvoice from another world bad broken rudely in upon his new composure. 

"I knew her, " he said, and his tone was of such studied carelessnessthat Mrs. Logan looked up at him curiously. 

"I hope you liked her, for her mother was a relation of my husband, andwhen I have been home the small Alice has always been a great friend ofmine. I wonder if she has grown pretty. Gilbert and I used to betabout it on different sides. I said she would be very beautiful someday. "

"She is very beautiful, " said Lewis in a level voice, and George, feeling the thin ice, came to his friend's rescue. He could at leasttalk naturally of Miss Wishart. 

"The Wisharts took the place, you know, Mrs. Logan, so we saw a lot ofthem. The girl was delightful, good sportswoman and all that sort ofthing, and capital company. I wonder she never told us about you. Sheknew we were coming out here, for I told her, and she was veryinterested. "

"Yes, it's odd, for I suppose she had read Mr. Haystoun's book, wheremy husband comes in a good deal. I shall tell her about seeing you inmy next letter. And now tell me your plans. "

Lewis's face had begun to burn in a most compromising way. Those lastdays in Glenavelin had risen again before the eye of his mind and oldwounds were reopened. The thought that Alice was not yet wholly out ofhis life, that the new world was not utterly severed from the old, affected him with a miserable delight. Mrs. Logan became invested withan extraordinary interest. He pulled himself together to answer herquestion. 

"Oh, our errand is much the same as last time. We want to get all thesport we can, and if possible to cross the mountains into Turkestan. Iam rather keen on geographical work just now, and there's a bit of landup here which wants exploring. "

The lady laughed. "That sounds like poor dear Mr. Gribton. I supposeyou remember him? He left here in the summer, but when he lived inBardur he had got that northern frontier-line on the brain. He was ahorrible bore, for he would always work the conversation round to itsooner or later. I think it was really Mr. Gribton who made peopleoften lose interest in these questions. They had to assume an indolentattitude in pure opposition to his fussiness. "

"When will your husband be home?" Lewis asked. 

"In two days, or possibly three. I am so sorry about it. I'll wire atonce, but it's a slow journey, especially if he is bringing ponies. Ofcourse you want to see him before you start. It's such a pity, butBardur is fearfully empty of men just now. Captain Thwaite has gone offafter ibex, and though I think he will be back to-morrow, I am afraid hewill be too late for my dance. Oh, really, this is lucky. I hadforgotten all about it. Of course you two will come. That will maketwo more men, and we shall be quite a respectable party. We are havinga dance to-morrow night, and as the English people here are so few anduncertain in their movements we can't afford to miss a chance. You_must_ come. I've got the Thwaites and the Beresfords and the Waltons, and some of the garrison people who are down on leave. Oh, and there'sa man coming whom you must know. A Mr. Marker, a most delightfulperson. I don't think you met him before, but you must have heard myhusband talk about him. He is the very man for your purpose. Gilbertsays he knows the hills better than any of the Hunza tribesmen, and thathe is the best sportsman he ever met. Besides, he is such aninteresting person, very much a man of the world, you know, who has beeneverywhere and knows everybody. "

Lewis congratulated himself on his luck. "I should like very much tocome to the dance, and I especially want to meet Mr. Marker. "

"He is half Scotch, too, " said the lady. "His mother was a Kirkpatrickor some name like that, and he actually seems to talk English with akind of Scotch accent. Of course that may be the German part of him. He is a Pomeranian count or something of the sort, and very rich. Youmight get him to go with you into the hills. "

"I wish we could, " said Lewis falsely. His curiosity was keenlyexcited. 

"Why does he come up here such a lot?" George asked. 

"I suppose because he likes to 'knock about, ' as you call it. He is atremendous traveller. He has been into Tibet and all over Turkestan andPersia. Gilbert says that he is the wonder of the age. "

"Is he here just now?"

"No, I don't think so. I know he is coming to-morrow, because he wroteme about it, and promised to come to my dance. But he is a very busyman, so I don't suppose he will arrive till just before. He wrote mefrom Gilgit, so he may find Gilbert there and bring him up with him. "

Marker, Marker. The air seemed full of the strange name. Lewis sawagain Wratislaw's wrinkled face when he talked of him, and rememberedhis words. "You were within an ace of meeting one of the cleverest menliving, a cheerful being in whom the Foreign Office is more interestedthan in any one else in the world. " Wratislaw had never been in thehabit of talking without good authority. This Marker must be indeed agentleman of parts. 

Then conversation dwindled. Lewis, his mind torn between bittermemories and the pressing necessities of his mission, lent a stupid earto Mrs. Logan's mild complaints, her gossip about Bardur, her eagerquestions about home. George manfully took his place, and by afortunate clumsiness steered the flow of the lady's talk from Glenavelinand the Wisharts. Lewis spoke now and then, when appealed to, but hewas busy thinking out his own problem. On the morrow night he shouldmeet Marker, and his work would reveal itself. Meanwhile he was in thedark, the flimsiest adventurer on the wildest of errands. This easy, settled place, these Englishmen whose minds held fast by polo and games, these English ladies who had no thought beyond little social devices torelieve the monotony of the frontier, all seemed to make a mockery ofhis task. He had fondly imagined himself going to a certainty of toiland danger; to his vexation this certainty seemed to be changing intothe most conventional of visits to the most normal of places. Butto-morrow he should see Marker; and his hope revived at the prospect. 

"It is so pleasant seeing two fresh fellow-countrymen, " Mrs. Logan wassaying. "Do you know, you two people look quite different from our menup here. They are all so dried up and tired out. Our complexions areall gone, and our eyes have got that weariness of the sun in them whichnever goes away even when we go home again. But you two look quite keenand fresh and enthusiastic. You mustn't mind compliments from an oldwoman, but I wish our own people looked as nice as you. You will makeus all homesick. "

A native servant entered, more noiseless and more dignified than anyEnglish footman, and announced another visitor. Lewis lifted his head, and saw the lady rise, smiling, to greet a tall man who had come in withthe frankness of a privileged acquaintance. "How do you do, Mr. Marker?" he heard. "I am so glad to see you. We didn't dare to expectyou till to-morrow. May I introduce two English friends, Mr. Haystounand Mr. Winterham?"

And so the meeting came about in the simplest way. Lewis found himselfshaking hands cordially with a man who stood upright, quite in theEnglish fashion, and smiled genially on the two strangers. Then he tookthe vacant chair by Mrs. Logan, and answered the lady's questions withthe ease and kindliness of one who knows and likes his fellow-creatures. He deplored Logan's absence, grew enthusiastic about the dance, andproduced from a pocket certain sweetmeats, not made in Kashmir, for thetwo children. Then he turned to George and asked pleasantly about thejourney. How did they find the roads from Gilgit? He hoped they wouldget good sport, and if he could be of any service, would they commandhim? He had heard of Lewis's former visit, and, of course, he had readhis book. The most striking book of travel he had seen for long. Ofcourse he didn't agree with certain things, but each man for his ownview; and he should like to talk over the matter with Mr. Haystoun. Were they staying long? At Galetti's of course? By good luck that wasalso his headquarters. And so he talked pleasingly, in the style of alady's drawing-room, while Lewis, his mind consumed with interest, satpuzzling out the discords in his face. 

"Do you know, Mr. Marker, we were talking about you before you came in. I was telling Mr. Haystoun that I thought you were half Scotch. Mr. Haystoun, you know, lives in Scotland. "

"Do you really? Then I am a thousand times delighted to meet you, for Ihave many connections with Scotland. My grandmother was a Scotswoman, and though I have never been in your beautiful land, yet I have knownmany of your people. And, indeed, I have heard of one of your name whowas a friend of my father's--a certain Mr. Haystoun of Etterick. "

"My father, " said Lewis. 

"Ah, I am so pleased to hear. My father and he met often in Paris, whenthey were attached to their different embassies. My father was in theGerman service. "

"Your mother was Russian, was she not?" Lewis asked tactlessly, impelledby he knew not what motive. 

"Ah, how did you know?" Mr. Marker smiled in reply, with the slightestraising of the eyebrows. "I have indeed the blood of many nationalitiesin my veins. Would that I were equally familiar with all nations, for Iknow less of Russia than I know of Scotland. We in Germany are theirnear neighbours, and love them, as you do here, something less thanourselves. "

He talked English with that pleasing sincerity which seems inseparablefrom the speech of foreigners, who use a purer and more formal idiomthan ourselves. George looked anxiously towards Lewis, with a questionin his eyes, but finding his companion abstracted, he spoke himself. 

"I have just arrived, " said the other simply; "but it was from adifferent direction. I have been shooting in the hills, getting coolair into my lungs after the valleys. Why, Mrs. Logan, I have been downto Rawal Pindi since I saw you last, and have been choked with the sun. We northerners do not take kindly to glare and dust. "

"But you are an old hand here, they tell me. I wish you'd show me theropes, you know. I'm very keen, but as ignorant as a babe. What sortof rifles do they use here? I wish you'd come and look at myironmongery. " And George plunged into technicalities. 

When Lewis rose to leave, following unwillingly the convention whichforbids a guest to stay more than five minutes after a new visitor hasarrived, Marker crossed the room with them. "If you're not engaged forto-night, Mr. Haystoun, will you do me the honour to dine with me? Iam alone, and I think we might manage to find things to talk about. "Lewis accepted gladly, and with one of his sweetest smiles the gentlemanreturned to Mrs. Logan's side. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE DINNER AT GALETTI'S

"I Have heard of you so much, " Mr. Marker said, "and it was a luckychance which brought me to Bardur to meet you. " They had taken theircigars out to the verandah, and were drinking the strong Persian coffee, with a prospect before them of twinkling town lights, and a mountainline of rock and snow. Their host had put on evening clothes and wore abraided dinner-jacket which gave the faintest touch of the foreigner tohis appearance. At dinner he had talked well of a score of things. Hehad answered George's questions on sport with the readiness of anexpert; he had told a dozen good stories, and in an easy, pleasant wayhe had gossiped of books and places, people and politics. His knowledgestruck both men as uncanny. Persons of minute significance inParliament were not unknown to him, and he was ready with a theory or anexplanation on the most recondite matters. But coffee and cigars foundhim a different man. He ceased to be the enthusiast, the omnivorous andversatile inquirer, and relapsed into the ordinary good fellow, who isno cleverer than his neighbours. 

"We're confoundedly obliged to you, " said George. "Haystoun is keenenough, but when he was out last time he seems to have been very slackabout the sport. "

"Sort of student of frontier peoples and politics, as the newspaperscall it. I fancy that game is, what you say, 'played out' a littlenowadays. It is always a good cry for alarmist newspapers to send uptheir circulation by, but you and I, my friend, who have mixed withserious politicians, know its value. "

George nodded. He liked to be considered a person of importance, and hewanted the conversation to get back to ibex. 

"I speak as of a different nation, " Marker said, looking towards Lewis. "But I find the curse of modern times is this mock-seriousness. Somecenturies ago men and women were serious about honour and love andreligion. Nowadays we are frivolous and sceptical about these things, but we are deadly in earnest about fads. Plans to abolish war, schemesto reform criminals, and raise the condition of woman, and supply theBada-Mawidi with tooth-picks are sure of the most respectful treatmentand august patronage. "

"I agree, " said Lewis. "The Bada-Mawidi live there?" And he pointed tothe hill line. 

Marker nodded. He had used the name inadvertently as an illustration, and he had no wish to answer questions on the subject. 

"A troublesome tribe, rather?" asked Lewis, noticing the momentaryhesitation. 

"In the past. Now they are quiet enough. "

"But I understood that there was a ferment in the Pamirs. The otherside threatened, you know. " He had almost said "your side, " but checkedhimself. 

"Ah yes, there are rumours of a rising, but that is further west. TheBada-Mawidi are too poor to raise two swords in the whole tribe. Youwill come across them if you go north, and I can recommend them asexcellent beaters. "

"Is the north the best shooting quarter?" asked Lewis with sharp eyes. "I am just a little keen on some geographical work, and if I can joinboth I shall be glad. Due north is the Russian frontier?

"Due north after some scores of the most precipitous miles in the world. It is a preposterous country. I myself have been on the verge of it, and know it as well as most. The geographical importance, too, isabsurdly exaggerated. It has never been mapped because there is nothingabout it to map, no passes, no river, no conspicuous mountain, nothingbut desolate, unvaried rock. The pass to Yarkand goes to the east, andthe Afghan routes are to the west. But to the north you come to a wall, and if you have wings you may get beyond it. The Bada-Mawidi live insome of the wretched nullahs. There is sport, of course, of a kind, butnot perhaps the best. I should recommend you to try the more easterlyhills. "

The speaker's manner was destitute of all attempt to dissuade, and yetLewis felt in some remote way that this man was trying to dissuade him. The rock-wall, the Bada-Mawidi, whatever it was, something existedbetween Bardur and the Russian frontier which this pleasant gentlemandid not wish him to see. 

"Our plans are all vague, " he said, "and of course we are glad of youradvice. "

"And I am glad to give it, though in many ways you know the place betterthan I do. Your book is the work of a very clever and observant man, ifyou will excuse my saying so. I was thankful to find that you were notthe ordinary embryo-publicist who looks at the frontier hills fromBardur, and then rushes home and talks about invasion. "

"You think there is no danger, then?"

"On the contrary, I honestly think that there is danger, but from adifferent direction. Britain is getting sick, and when she is sickenough, some people who are less sick will overwhelm her. My ownopinion is that Russia will be the people. "

"But is not that one of the old cries that you object to?" and Lewissmiled. 

"It was; now it is ceasing to be a cry, and passing into a fact, or asmuch a fact as that erroneous form of gratuity, prophecy, can be. Lookat Western Europe and you cannot disbelieve the evidence of your owneyes. In France you have anarchy, the vulgarest frivolity and thecheapest scepticism, joined with a sort of dull capacity for routinework. Germany, the very heart of it eaten out with sentiment, eitherthe cheap military or the vague socialist brand. Spain and Italyshadows, Denmark and Sweden farces, Turkey a sinful anachronism. "

"And Britain?" George asked. 

"My Scotch blood gives me the right to speak my mind, " said the man, laughing. "Honestly I don't find things much better in Britain. Youwere always famous for a dogged common sense which was never trickedwith catch-words, and yet the British people seem to be growing nervousand ingenuous. The cult of abstract ideals, which has been the curse ofthe world since Adam, is as strong with you as elsewhere. Thephilosophy of 'gush' is good enough in its place, but it is the devil inpolitics. "

"That is true enough, " said Lewis solemnly. "And then you are losinggrip. A belief in sentiment means a disbelief in competence andstrength, and that is the last and fatalest heresy. And a belief insentiment means a foolish scepticism towards the great things of life. There is none of the blood and bone left for honest belief. You holdyour religion half-heartedly. Honest fanaticism is a thing intolerableto you. You are all mild, rational sentimentalists, and I would notgive a ton of it for an ounce of good prejudice. " George and Lewislaughed. 

"And Russia?" they asked. 

"Ah, there I have hope. You have a great people, uneducated andunspoiled. They are physically strong, and they have been trained bycenturies of serfdom to discipline and hardships. Also, there is firesmouldering somewhere. You must remember that Russia is thestepdaughter of the East. The people are northern in the truest sense, but they have a little of Eastern superstition. A rational, sentimentalpeople live in towns or market gardens, like your English country, butgreat lonely plains and forests somehow do not agree with that sort ofcreed. That slow people can still believe freshly and simply, and someday when the leader arrives they will push beyond their boundaries andsweep down on Western Europe, as their ancestors did thirteen hundredyears ago. And you have no walls of Rome to resist them, and I do notthink you will find a Charlemagne. Good heavens! What can yourlatter-day philosophic person, who weighs every action and believes onlyin himself, do against an unwearied people with the fear of God in theirhearts? When that day comes, my masters, we shall have a new empire, the Holy Eastern Empire, and this rotten surface civilization of ourswill be swept off. It is always the way. Men get into the habit ofbelieving that they can settle everything by talk, and fancy themselvesthe arbiters of the world, and then suddenly the great man arrives, yourCaesar or Cromwell, and clears out the talkers. "

"I've heard something like that before. In fact, on occasions I havesaid it myself. It's a pretty idea. How long do you give this_Volkerwanderung_ to get started?"

"It will not be in our time, " said the man sadly. "I confess I amrather anxious for it to come off. Europe is a dull place at present, given up to Jews and old women. But I am an irreclaimable wanderer, andit is some time since I have been home. Things may be alreadychanging. "

"Scarcely, " said Lewis. "And meantime where is this Slav invasion goingto begin? I suppose they will start with us here, before they cross theChannel?"

"Undoubtedly. But Britain is the least sick of the crew, so she may beleft in peace till the confirmed invalids are destroyed. At the best itwill be a difficult work. Our countrymen, you will permit the name, myfriends, have unexpected possibilities in their blood. And even thisIndia will be a hard nut to crack. It is assumed that Russia has but tofind Britain napping, buy a passage from the more northerly tribes, andsweep down on the Punjab. I need not tell you how impossible such aland invasion is. It is my opinion that when the time comes the attackwill be by sea from some naval base on the Persian Gulf. It is a merematter of time till Persia is the Tsar's territory, and then they maybegin to think about invasion. "

"You think the northern road impossible! I suppose you ought to know. "

"I do, and I have some reason for my opinion. I know Afghanistan andChitral as few Europeans know it. "

"But what about Bardur, and this Kashmir frontier? I can understand thedifficulties of the Khyber, but this Kashmir road looks promising. "

Marker laughed a great, good-humoured, tolerant, incredulous laugh. "Mydear sir, that's the most utter nonsense. How are you to bring an armyover a rock wall which a chamois hunter could scarcely climb? Aninvading army is not a collection of winged fowl. I grant you Bardur isa good starting-point if it were once reached. But you might as wellthink of a Chinese as of a Russian invasion from the north. It would bea good deal more possible, for there is a road to Yarkand, andrespectable passes to the north-east. But here we are shut off from theOxus by as difficult a barrier as the Elburz. Go up and see. There issome shooting to be had, and you will see for yourself the sort ofcountry between here and Taghati. "

"But people come over here sometimes. "

"Yes, from the south, or by Afghanistan. "

"Not always. What about the Korabaut Pass into Chitral? Ianoff and theCossacks came through it. "

"That's true, " said the man, as if in deep thought. "I had forgotten, but the band was small and the thing was a real adventure. "

"And then you have Gromchevtsky. He brought his people right downthrough the Pamirs. "

For a second the man's laughing ease deserted him. He leaned his headforward and peered keenly into Lewis's face. Then, as if to cover hisdiscomposure, he fell into the extreme of bluff amusement. Theexaggeration was plain to both his hearers. 

"Oh yes, there was poor old Gromchevtsky. But then you know he was whatyou call 'daft, ' and one never knew how much to believe. He had hatredof the English on the brain, and he went about the northern valleysmaking all sorts of wild promises on the part of the Tsar. A greatRussian army was soon to come down from the hills and restore thevalleys to their former owners. And then, after he had talked all thisnonsense, and actually managed to create some small excitement among thetribesmen, the good fellow disappeared. No man knows where he went. The odd thing is that I believe he has never been heard of again inRussia to this day. Of course his mission, as he loved to call it, wasperfectly unauthorized, and the man himself was a creature of farce. Heprobably came either by the Khyber or the Korabaut Pass, possibly evenby the ordinary caravan-route from Yarkand, but felt it necessary forhis mission's sake to pretend he had found some way through the rockbarrier. I am afraid I cannot allow him to be taken seriously. "

Lewis yawned and reached out his hand for the cigars. "In any case itis merely a question of speculative interest. We shall not fall justyet, though you think so badly of us. "

"You will not fall just yet, " said Marker slowly, "but that is not yourfault. You British have sold your souls for something less than theconventional mess of pottage. You are ruled in the first place bymoney-bags, and the faddists whom they support to blind your eyes. If Iwere a young man in your country with my future to make, do you knowwhat I would do? I would slave in the Stock Exchange. I would spend mydays and nights in the pursuit of fortune, and, by heaven, I would getit. Then I would rule the market and break, crush, quietly andruthlessly, the whole gang of Jew speculators and vulgarians who wouldcorrupt a great country. Money is power with you, and I should attainit, and use it to crush the leeches who suck our blood. "

"Good man, " said George, laughing. "That's my way of thinking. Neverheard it better put. "

"I have felt the same, " said Lewis. "When I read of 'rings' and'corners' and 'trusts' and the misery and vulgarity of it all, I haveoften wished to have a try myself, and see whether average brains andclean blood could not beat these fellows on their own ground. "

"Then why did you not?" asked Marker. "You were rich enough to make aproper beginning. "

"I expect I was too slack. I wanted to try the thing, but there was somuch that was repulsive that I never quite got the length of trying. Besides, I have a bad habit of seeing both sides of a question. Theordinary arguments seemed to me weak, and it was too much fag to workout an attitude for oneself. "

Marker looked sharply at Lewis, and George for a moment saw andcontrasted the two faces. Lewis's keen, kindly, humorous, cultured, with strong lines ending weakly, a face over-bred, brave and finical;the other's sharp, eager, with the hungry wolf-like air of ambition, every line graven in steel, and the whole transfused, as it were, by thefire of the eyes into the living presentment of human vigour. 

It was the eternal contrast of qualities, and for a moment in George'smind there rose a delight that two such goodly pieces of manhood shouldhave found a meeting-ground. 

"I think, you know, that we are not quite so bad as you make out, " saidLewis quietly. "To an outsider we must appear on the brink ofincapacity, but then it is not the first time we have produced thatimpression. You will still find men who in all their spiritual sicknesshave kept something of that restless, hard-bitten northern energy, andthat fierce hunger for righteousness, which is hard to fight with. Scores of people, who can see no truth in the world and are sick withdoubt and introspection and all the latter-day devils, have yetsomething of pride and honour in their souls which will make them showwell at the last. If we are going to fall our end will not be quiteinglorious. "

Marker laughed and rose. "I am afraid I must leave you now. I have tosee my servant, for I am off to-morrow. This has been a delightfulmeeting. I propose that we drink to its speedy repetition. "

They drank, clinking glasses in continental fashion, and the host shookhands and departed. 

"Good chap, " was George's comment. "Put us up to a wrinkle or two, andseemed pretty sound in his politics. I wish I could get him to come andstop with me at home. Do you think we shall run across him again?"

Lewis was looking at the fast vanishing lights of the town. "I shouldthink it highly probable, " he said. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE TACTICS OF A CHIEF

There is another quarter in Bardur besides the English one. Down by thestream side there are narrow streets built on the scarp of the rock, hovels with deep rock cellars, and a wonderful amount of cubic spacebeneath the brushwood thatch. There the trader from Yarkand who hascontraband wares to dispose of may hold a safe market. And if you wereto go at nightfall into this quarter, where the foot of the Kashmirpoliceman rarely penetrates, you might find shaggy tribesmen who havebeen all their lives outlaws, walking unmolested to visit their friends, and certain Jewish gentlemen, members of the great family who haveconquered the world, engaged in the pursuit of their unlawful calling. 

Marker speedily left the broader streets of the European quarter, andplunged down a steep alley which led to the stream. Half way down therewas a lane to the left in the line of hovels, and, after stopping amoment to consider, he entered this. It was narrow and dark, but smeltcleanly enough of the dry granite sand. There were little darkapertures in the huts, which might have been either doors or windows, and at one of these he stopped, lit a match, and examined it closely. The result was satisfactory; for the man, who had hitherto beencrouching, straightened himself up and knocked. The door openedinstantaneously, and he bowed his tall head to enter a narrow passage. This brought him into a miniature courtyard, about thirty feet across, above which gleamed a patch of violet sky, sown with stars. Below adoor on the right a light shone, and this he pushed open, and entered alittle room. 

The place was richly furnished, with low couches and Persian tables, andon the floor a bright matting. The short, square-set man sittingsmoking on the divan we have already met at a certain village in themountains. Fazir Khan, descendant of Abraham, and father and chief ofthe Bada-Mawidi, has a nervous eye and an uneasy face to-night, for itis a hard thing for a mountaineer, an inhabitant of great spaces, to sitwith composure in a trap-like room in the citadel of a foe who has manyacts of rape and murder to avenge on his body. To do Fazir Khan justicehe strove to conceal his restlessness under the usual impassive calm ofhis race. He turned his head slightly as Marker entered, nodded gravelyover the bowl of his pipe, and pointed to the seat at the far end of thedivan. 

"It is a dark night, " he said. "I heard you stumbling on the causewaybefore you entered. And I have many miles to cover before dawn. "

Marker nodded. "Then you must make haste, my friend. You must be inthe hills by daybreak, for I have some errands I want you to do for me. I have to-night been dining with two strangers, who have come up fromthe south. "

The chief's eyes sparkled. "Do they suspect?"

"Nothing in particular, everything in general. They are English. Onewas here before and got far up into your mountains. He wrote a cleverbook when he returned, which made people think. They say their errandis sport, and it may be. On the other hand I have a doubt. One has notthe air of the common sportsman. He thinks too much, and his eyes havea haggard look. It is possible that they are in their Government'sservices and have come to reconnoitre. "

"Then we are lost, " said Fazir Khan sourly. "It was always a fool'splan, at the mercy of any wandering Englishman. "

"Not so, " said Marker. "Nothing is lost, and nothing will be lost. ButI fear these two men. They do not bluster and talk at random like theothers. They are so very quiet that they may mean danger. "

"They must remain here, " said the chief. "Give me the word, and I willsend one of my men to hough their horses and, if need be, cripplethemselves. "

Marker laughed. "You are an honest fool, Fazir Khan. That sort ofthing is past now. We live in the wrong times and places for it. Wecannot keep them here, but we must send them on a goose-chase. Do youunderstand?"

"I understand nothing. I am a simple man and my ways are simple, andnot as yours. "

"Then attend to my words, my friend. Our expedition must be changed andmade two days sooner. That will give these two Englishmen three daysonly to checkmate it. Besides, they are ignorant, and to-morrow is lostto them, for they go to a ball at the Logan woman's. Still, I fear themwith two days to work in. If they go north, they are clever andsuspicious, and they may see or fancy enough to wreck our plans. Theymay have the way barred, and we know how little would bar the way. "

"Ten resolute men, " said the chief. "Nay, I myself, with my two sons, would hold a force at bay there. "

"If that is true, how much need is there to be wary beforehand! Sincewe cannot prevent these men from meddling, we can give them rope tomeddle in small matters. Let us assume that they have been sent out bytheir Government. They are the common make of Englishmen, worshipping agod which they call their honour. They will do their duty if they canfind it out. Now there is but one plan, to create a duty for them whichwill take them out of the way. "

The chief was listening with half-closed eyes. He saw new trouble forhimself and was not cheerful. 

"Do you know how many men Holm has with him at the Forza camp?"

"A score and a half. Some of my people passed that way yesterday, whenthe soldiers were parading. "

"And there are two more camps?

"There are two beyond the Nazri Pass, on the fringe of the Doorab hills. We call the places Khautmi-sa and Khautmi-bana, but the English havetheir own names for them. "

Marker nodded. 

"I know the places. They are Gurkha camps. The officers are calledMitchinson and St. John. They will give us little trouble. But theForza garrison is too near the pass for safety, and yet far enough awayfor my plans. " And for a moment the man's eyes were abstracted, as if indeep thought. 

"I have another thing to tell of the Forza camp, " the chief interrupted. "The captain, the man whom they call Holm, is sick, so sick that hecannot remain there. He went out shooting and came too near todangerous places, so a bullet of one of my people's guns found his leg. He will be coming to Bardur to-morrow. Is it your wish that he beprevented?

"Let him come, " said Marker. "He will suit my purpose. Now I will tellyou your task, Fazir Khan, for it is time that you took the road. Youwill take a hundred of the Bada-Mawidi and put them in the rocks roundthe Forza camp. Let them fire a few shots but do no great damage, lestthis man Holm dare not leave. If I know the man at all, he will onlyhurry the quicker when he hears word of trouble, for he has no stomachfor danger, if he can get out of it creditably. So he will come downhere to-morrow with a tale of the Bada-Mawidi in arms, and find no menin the place to speak of, except these two strangers. I will havealready warned them of this intended rising, and if, as I believe, theyserve the Government, they will let no grass grow below their feet tillthey get to Forza. Then on the day after let your tribesmen attack theplace, not so as to take it, but so as to make a good show of fight andkeep the garrison employed. This will keep these young men quiet; theywill think that all rumours they may have heard culminate in this risingof yours, and they will be content, and satisfied that they have donetheir duty. Then, the day after, while they are idling at Forza, wewill slip through the passes, and after that there will be no need forruses. "

The chief rose and pulled himself up to his full height. "After that, "he said, "there will be work for men. God! We shall harry the valleysas our forefathers harried them, and we shall suck the juicy plains dry. You will give us a free hand, my lord?"

"Your hand shall be free enough, " said Marker. 

"But see that every word of my bidding is done. We fail utterly unlessall is secret and swift. It is the lion attacking the village. If hecrosses the trap gate safely he may ravage at his pleasure, but there isfirst the trap to cross. And now it is your time to leave. "

The mountaineer tightened his girdle, and exchanged his slippers fordeer-hide boots. He bowed gravely to the other and slipped out into thedarkness of the court. Marker drew forth some plans and writingmaterials from his great-coat pocket and spread them before him on thetable. It was a thing he had done a hundred times within the last week, and as he made his calculations again and traced his route anew, hisaction showed the tinge of nervousness to which the strongest natures attimes must yield. Then he wrote a letter, and yawning deeply, he shutup the place and returned to Galetti's. 

CHAPTER XXV

MRS. LOGAN'S BALL

When Lewis had finished breakfast next morning, and was sitting idly onthe verandah watching the busy life of the bazaar at his feet, a letterwas brought him by a hotel servant. "It was left for you by MarkerSahib, when he went away this morning. He sent his compliments to thesahibs and regretted that he had to leave too early to speak with them, but he left this note. " Lewis broke the envelope and read:

DEAR MR. HAYSTOUN, When I was thinking over our conversation last night, chance put a pieceof information in my way which you may think fit to use. You know thatI am more intimate than most people with the hill tribes. Well, letthis be the guarantee of my news, but do not ask how I got it, for Icannot betray friends. Some of these, the Bada-Mawidi to wit, aremeditating mischief. The Forza camp, which I think you have visited--aplace some twenty miles off--is too near those villages to be safe. Soto-morrow at latest they have planned to make a general attack upon it, and, unless the garrison were prepared, I should fear for the result, for they are the most cunning scoundrels in the world. What puzzles meis how they have ever screwed up the courage for such a move, for latelythey were very much in fear of the Government. It appears as if theylooked for backing from over the frontier. You will say that thisproves your theory; but to me it merely seems as if some maniac of theGromchevtsky type had got among them. In any case I wish somethingcould be done. My duties take me away at once, and in a very differentdirection, but perhaps you could find some means of putting the camp ontheir guard. I should be sorry to hear of a tragedy; also I should besorry to see the Bada-Mawidi get into trouble. They are foolishblackguards, but amusing. 

Yours most sincerely, ARTHUR MARKER. 

Lewis read the strange letter several times through, then passed it toGeorge. George read it with difficulty, not being accustomed to aflowing frontier hand. "Jolly decent of him, I call it, " was hisremark. 

"I would give a lot to know what to make of it. The man is playing somegame, but what the deuce it is I can't fathom. "

"I suppose we had better get up to that Forza place as soon as we can. "

"I think not, " said Lewis. 

"The man's honest, surely?

"But he is also clever. Remember who he is. He may wish to get us outof the way. I don't suppose that he can possibly fear us, but he maywant the coast clear from suspicious spectators. Besides, I don't seethe good of Forza. It is not the part of the hills I want to explore. There can be no frontier danger there, and at the worst there can benothing more than a little tribal disturbance. Now what on earth wouldRussia gain by moving the tribes there, except as a blind?"

"Still, you know, the man admits all that in his letter. And if thepeople up there are going to be in trouble we ought to go and give themnotice. "

"I'll take an hour to think over it, and then I'll go and see Thwaite. He was to be back this morning. "

Lewis spread the letter before him. It was a simple, friendly note, giving him a chance of doing a good turn to friends. His clear coursewas to lay it before Thwaite and shift the responsibility for action tohis shoulders. But he felt all the while that this letter had apersonal application which he could not conceal. It would have been aseasy for Marker to send the note to Thwaite, whom he had long known. But he had chosen to warn him privately. It might be a ruse, but he hadno glimpse of the meaning. Or, again, it might be a piece of purefriendliness, a chance of unofficial adventure given by one wanderer toanother. He puzzled it out, lamenting that he was so deep in the dark, and cursing his indecision. Another man would have made up his mindlong ago; it was a ruse, therefore let it be neglected and remain inBardur with open eyes; it was good faith and a good chance, thereforelet him go at once. But to Lewis the possibilities seemed endless, andhe could find no solution save the old one of the waverer, to wait forfurther light. 

He found Thwaite at breakfast, just returned from his travels. 

"Hullo, Haystoun. I heard you were here. Awfully glad to see you. Sitdown, won't you, and have some breakfast. " The officer was a long man, with a thin, long face, a reddish moustache, and small, blue eyes. 

"I came to ask you questions, if you don't mind. I have the regularglobe-trotter's trick of wanting information. What's the Forza camplike? Do you think that the Bada-Mawidi, supposing they stir again, would be likely to attack it?"

"Not a bit of it. That was the sort of thing that Gribton was alwayscroaking about. Why, man, the Bada-Mawidi haven't a kick in them. Besides, they are very nearly twenty miles off and the garrison's a veryfit lot. They're all right. Trust them to look after themselves. " "ButI have been hearing stories of Bada-Mawidi risings which are to come offsoon. "

"Oh, you'll always hear stories of that sort. All the old women in theneighbourhood purvey them. "

"Who are in charge at Forza?"

"Holm and Andover. Don't care much for Holm, but Andy is a good chap. But what's this new interest of yours? Are you going up there?

"I'm out here to shoot and explore, you know, so Forza comes into mybeat. Thanks very much. See you to-night, I suppose. "

Lewis went away dispirited and out of temper. He had been pitchforkedamong easy-going people, when all the while mysterious things, dangerousthings, seemed to hang in the air. He had not the material for even thefirst stages of comprehension. No one suspected, every one wassatisfied; and at the same time came those broken hints of other things. He felt choked and muffled, wrapped in the cotton-wool of this easylife; and all the afternoon he chafed at his own impotence and theworld's stupidity. 

When the two travellers presented themselves at the Logans' house thatevening, they were immediately seized upon by the hostess and compelled, to their amusement, to do her bidding. They were her discoveries, hernew young men, and as such, they had their responsibilities. George, who liked dancing, obeyed meekly; but Lewis, being out of temper andseeing before him an endless succession of wearisome partners, soonbroke loose, and accompanied Thwaite to the verandah for a cigar. 

The man was ill at ease, and the sight of young faces and the sound oflaughter vexed him with a sense of his eccentricity. He could never, like George, take the world as he found it. At home he was the slave ofhis own incapacity; now he was the slave of memories. He had come outon an errand, with a chance to recover his lost self-respect, and lo!he was as far as ever from attainment. His lost capacity for action wasnot to be found here, in the midst of this petty diplomacy andinglorious ease. 

From the verandah a broad belt of lawn ran down to the edge of the northroad. It lay shining in the moonlight like a field of snow with thehighway a dark ribbon beyond it. Thwaite and Lewis walked down to thegate talking casually, and at the gate they stopped and looked down onthe town. It lay a little to the left, the fort rising black before it, and the road ending in a patch of shade which was the old town gate. The night was very still, cool airs blew noiselessly from the hills, anda jackal barked hoarsely in some far-off thicket. 

The men hung listlessly on the gate, drinking in the cool air andwatching the blue cigar smoke wreathe and fade. Suddenly down the roadthere came the sound of wheels. 

"That's a tonga, " said Thwaite. "Wonder who it is. "

"Do tongas travel this road?" Lewis asked. 

"Oh yes, they go ten miles up to the foot of the rocks. We use them forsending up odds and ends to the garrisons. After that coolies are theonly conveyance. Gad, I believe this thing is going to stop. "

The thing in question, which was driven by a sepoy in bright yellowpyjamas, stopped at the Logans' gate. A peevish voice was heard givingdirections from within. 

"It sounds like Holm, " said Thwaite, walking up to it, "and upon my soulit is Holm. What on earth are you doing here, my dear fellow?"

"Is that you, Thwaite?" said the voice. "I wish you'd help me out. Iwant Logan to give me a bed for the night. I'm infernally ill. "

Lewis looked within and saw a pale face and bloodshot eyes which did notbelie the words. 

"What is it?" said Thwaite. "Fever or anything smashed?"

"I've got a bullet in my leg which has got to be cut out. Got it twodays ago when I was out shooting. Some natives up in the rocks did it, I fancy. Lord, how it hurts. " And the unhappy man groaned as he triedto move. 

"That's bad, " said Thwaite sympathetically. "The Logans have got adance on, but we'll look after you all right. How did you leave thingsin Forza?"

"Bad. I oughtn't to be here, but Andy insisted. He said I would onlyget worse and crock entirely. Things look a bit wild up there just now. There has been a confounded lot of rifle-stealing, and the Bada-Mawidiare troublesome. However, I hope it's only their fun. "

"I hope so, " said Thwaite. "You know Haystoun, don't you?"

"Glad to meet you, " said the man. "Heard of you. Coming up our way? Ihope you will after I get this beastly leg of mine better. "

"Thwaite will tell you I have been cross-examining him about your place. I wanted badly to ask you about it, for I got a letter this morning froma man called Marker with some news for you. "

"What did he say?" asked Holm sharply. 

"He said that he had heard privately that the Bada-Mawidi were planningan attack on you to-morrow or the day after. "

"The deuce they are, " said Holm peevishly, and Thwaite's facelengthened. 

"And he told me to find some way of letting you know. "

"Then why didn't you tell me earlier?" said Thwaite. "Marker shouldknow if anybody does. We should have kept Holm up there. Now it'salmost too late. Oh, this is the devil!"

Lewis held his peace. He had forgotten the solidity of Marker'sreputation. 

"What's the chances of the place?" Thwaite was asking. "I know yournumbers and all that, but are they anything like prepared?"

"I don't know, " said Holm miserably. "They might get on all right, buteverybody is pretty slack just now. Andy has a touch of fever, and someof the men may get leave for shooting. I must get back at once. "

"You can't. Why, man, you couldn't get half way. And what's more, Ican't go. This place wants all the looking after it can get. A row inthe hills means a very good possibility of a row in Bardur, and that istoo dangerous a game. And besides myself there is scarcely a man in theplace who counts. Logan has gone to Gilgit, and there's nobody left butboys. "

"If you don't mind I should like to go, " said Lewis shamefacedly. 

"You, " they cried. "Do you know the road?"

"I've been there before, and I remember it more or less. Besides, it isreally my show this time. I got the warning, and I want the credit. "And he smiled. 

"The road's bound to be risky, " said Thwaite thoughtfully. "I don'tfeel inclined to let you run your neck into danger like this. "

Lewis was busy turning over the problem in his mind. The presence ofthe man Holm seemed the one link of proof he needed. He had his wordthat there were signs of trouble in the place, and that the Bada-Mawidiwere ill at ease. Whatever game Marker was playing, on this matter heseemed to have spoken in good faith. Here was a clear piece of work forhim. And even if it was fruitless it would bring him nearer to thefrontier; his expedition to the north would be begun. 

"Let me go, " he said. "I came out here to explore the hills and I takeall risks on my own head. I can give them Marker's message as well asanybody else. "

Thwaite looked at Holm. "I don't see why he shouldn't. You're a wreck, and I can't leave my own place. "

"Tell Andy you saw me, " cried Holm. "He'll be anxious. And tell him tomind the north gate. If the fools knew how to use dynamite they mighthave it down at once. If they attack it can't last long, but then theycan't last long either, for they are hard up for arms, and unless theyhave changed since last week they have no ammunition to speak of. "

"Marker said it looked as if they were being put up to the job from overthe frontier. " "Gad, then it's my turn to look out, " said Thwaite. "Ifit's the gentlemen from over the frontier they won't stop at Forza. Lord, I hate this border business, it's so hideously in the dark. But Ithink that's all rot. Any tribal row here is sure to be set down toRussian influence. We don't understand the joint possession of anartificial frontier, " he added, with an air of quoting from some book. 

"Did you get that from Marker?" Holm asked crossly. "He once said thesame thing to me. " His temper had suffered badly among the hills. 

"We'd better get you to bed, my dear fellow, " said Thwaite, looking downat him. "You look remarkably cheap. Would you mind going in and tryingto find Mrs. Logan, Haystoun? I'll carry this chap in. Stop a minute, though. Perhaps he's got something to say to you. "

"Mind the north gate . . . Tell Andy I'm all right and make him lookafter himself . . . He's overworking . . . If you want to send amessage to the other people you'd better send by Nazri . . . If theBadas mean business they'll shut up the road you go by. That's all. Good luck and thanks very much. "

Lewis found Mrs. Logan making a final inspection of the supper-room. She ran to the garden, to find the invalid Holm in Thwaite's arms at thesteps of the verandah. The sick warrior pulled off an imaginary cap andsmiled feebly. "Oh, Mr. Holm, I'm so sorry. Of course we can haveyou. I'll put you in the other end of the house where you won't be somuch troubled with the noise. You must have had a dreadful journey. "And so forth, with the easy condolences of a kind woman. 

When Thwaite had laid down his burden, he turned to Lewis. 

"I wish we had another man, Haystoun. What about your friend Winterham?One's enough to do your work, but if the thing turns out to be serious, there ought to be some means of sending word. Andover will want you tostay, for they are short-handed enough. "

"I'll get Winterham to go and wait for me somewhere. If I don't turn upby a certain time, he can come and look for me. "

"That will do, " said Thwaite, "though it's a stale job for him. Well, good-bye and good luck to you. I expect there won't be much trouble, but I wish you had told us in the morning. "

Lewis turned to go and find George. "What a chance I had almostmissed, " was the word in his heart. The errand might be futile, themessage a blind, but it was at least movement, action, a possibility. 

CHAPTER XXVI

FRIEND TO FRIEND

He found George sitting down in the verandah after waltzing. Hispartner was a sister of Logan's, a dark girl whose husband was Residentsomewhere in Lower Kashmir. The lady gave her hand to Lewis and he tookthe vacant seat on the other side. 

He apologized for carrying off her companion, escorted her back to theballroom, and then returned to satisfy the amazed George. 

"I want to talk to you. Excuse my rudeness, but I have explained toMrs. Tracy. I have a good many things I want to say to you. "

"Where on earth have you been all night, Lewis? I call it confoundedlymean to go off and leave me to do all the heavy work. I've never beenso busy in my life. Lots of girls and far too few men. This is thefirst breathing space I've had. What is it that you want?"

"I am going off this very moment up into the hills. That letter Markersent me this morning has been confirmed. Holm, who commands up at theForza fort, has just come down very sick, and he says that theBada-Mawidi are looking ugly, and that we should take Marker's word. Hewanted to go back himself but he is too ill, and Thwaite can't leavehere, so I am going. I don't expect there will be much risk, but incase the rising should be serious I want you to do me a favour. "

"I suppose I can't come with you, " said George ruefully. "I know Ipromised to let you go your own way before we came out, but I wish youwould let me stick by you. What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing desperate, " said Lewis, laughing. "You can stay on here anddance till sunrise if you like. But to-morrow I want you to come up toa certain place at the foot of the hills which I will tell you about, and wait there. It's about half distance between Forza and the twoKhautmi forts. If the rising turns out to be a simple affair I'll joinyou there to-morrow night and we can start our shooting. But if Idon't, I want you to go up to the Khautmi forts and rouse St. John andMitchinson and get them to send to Forza. Do you see?"

Lewis had taken out a pencil and began to sketch a rough plan onGeorge's shirt cuff. "This will give you an idea of the place. You canlook up a bigger map in the hotel, and Thwaite or any one will give youdirections about the road. There's Forza, and there are the Khautmisabout twenty miles west. Half-way between the two is that long Nazrivalley, and at the top is a tableland strewn with boulders where youshoot mountain sheep. I've been there, and the road between Khautmi andForza passes over it. I expect it is a very bad road, but apparentlyyou can get a little Kashmir pony to travel it. To the north of thatplateau there is said to be nothing but rock and snow for twenty milesto the frontier. That may be so, but if this thing turns out all rightwe'll look into the matter. Anyway, you have got to pitch your tentto-morrow on that tableland just above the head of the Nazri gully. With luck I should be able to get to you some time in the afternoon. IfI don't turn up, you go off to Khautmi next morning at daybreak and givethem my message. If I can't come myself I'll find a way to send word;but if you don't hear from me it will be fairly serious, for it willmean that the rising is a formidable thing after all. And that, ofcourse, will mean trouble for everybody all round. In that case you'dbetter do what St. John and Mitchinson tell you. You're sure to bewanted. "

George's face cleared. "That sounds rather sport. I'd better bring upthe servants. They might turn out useful. And I suppose I'll bring acouple of rifles for you, in case it's all a fraud and we want to goshooting. I thought the place was going to be stale, but it promisespretty well now. " And he studied the plan on his shirt cuff. Then anidea came to him. 

"Suppose you find no rising. That will mean that Marker's letter was ablind of some sort. He wanted to get you out of the way or something. What will you do then? Come back here?"

"N--o, " said Lewis hesitatingly. "I think Thwaite is good enough, and Ishould be no manner of use. You and I will wait up there in the hillson the off-chance of picking up some news. I swear I won't come backhere to hang about and try and discover things. It's enough to drive aman crazy. "

"It is rather a ghastly place. Wonder how the Logans thrive here. Oddmixture this. Strauss and hill tribes not twenty miles apart. "

Lewis laughed. "I think I prefer the hill tribes. I am not in thehumour for Strauss just now. I shall have to be off in an hour, so I amgoing to change. See you to-morrow, old man. "

George retired to the ballroom, where he had to endure the reproaches ofMrs. Logan. He was an abstracted and silent partner, and in theintervals of dancing he studied his cuff. Miss A talked to him of polo, and Miss B of home; Miss C discovered that they had common friends, andMiss D that she had known his sister. Miss E, who was more observant, saw the cause of his distraction and asked, "What queer hieroglyphicshave you got on your cuff, Mr. Winterham?"

George looked down in a bewildered way at his sleeve. "Where on earthhave I been?" he asked in wonder. "That's the worst of being anabsent-minded fellow. I've been scribbling on my cuff with my programmepencil. "

Soon he escaped, and made his way down to the garden gate, where Thwaitewas standing smoking. A _sais_ held a saddled pony by the road-side. Lewis, in rough shooting clothes, was preparing to mount. From indoorscame the jigging of a waltz tune and the sound of laughter, while far inthe north the cliffs of the pass framed a dark blue cleft where thestars shone. George drew in great draughts of the cool, fresh air. "Iwish I was coming with you, " he said wistfully. 

"You'll be in time enough to-morrow, " said Lewis. "I wish you'd givehim all the information you can about the place, Thwaite. He's anignorant beggar. See that he remembers to bring food and matches. Theguns are the only things I can promise he won't forget. "

Then he rode off, the little beast bucking excitedly at the patches ofmoonlight, and the two men walked back to the house. 

"Hope he comes back all right, " said Thwaite. 

"He's too good a man to throw away. "

CHAPTER XXVII

THE ROAD TO FORZA

The road ran in a straight line through the valley of dry rocks, a dull, modern road, engineered and macadamized up to the edge of the hills. The click of hoofs raised echoes in the silence, for in all the greatvalley, in the chain of pools in the channel, the acres of sun-driedstone, the granite rocks, the tangle of mountain scrub, there seemed nolife of bird or beast. It was a strange, deathly stillness, andoverhead the purple sky, sown with a million globes of light, seemed sonear and imminent that the glen for the moment was but a vast jewel-litcavern, and the sky a fretted roof which spanned the mountains. 

For the first time Lewis felt the East. Hitherto he had been unable tosee anything in his errand but its futility. A stupider man, with asharp, practical brain, would have taken himself seriously and come toBardur with an intent and satisfied mind. He would have assumed the airof a diplomatist, have felt the dignity of his mission, and in successand failure have borne himself with self-confidence. But to Lewis thebusiness which loomed serious in England, at Bardur took on the colourof comedy. He felt his impotence, he was touched insensibly by the easycontent of the place. Frontier difficulties seemed matters for romanceand comic opera; and Bardur resolved itself into an English suburb, alltea-parties and tennis. But at times an austere conscience jogged himto remembrance, and in one such fitful craving for action and enterprisehe had found this errand. Now at last, astride the little Kashmir pony, with his face to the polestar and the hills, he felt the mystery of astrange world, and his work assumed a tinge of the adventurer. This wasnew, he told himself; this was romance. He had his eyes turned to a newland, and the smell of dry mountain sand and scrub, and the vault-like, imperial sky were the earnest of his inheritance. This was the East, the gorgeous, the impenetrable. Before him were the hill deserts, andthen the great, warm plains, and the wide rivers, and then on and on tothe cold north, the steppes, the icy streams, the untrodden forests. Tothe west and beyond the mountains were holy mosques, "shady cities ofpalm trees, " great walled towns to which north and west and southbrought their merchandise. And to the east were latitudes morewonderful, the uplands of the world, the impassable borders of theoldest of human cultures. Names rang in his head like tunes--Khiva, Bokhara, Samarkand, the goal of many boyish dreams born of clandestinesuppers and the Arabian Nights. It was an old fierce world he was onthe brink of, and the nervous frontier civilization fell a thousandmiles behind him. 

The white road turned to the right with the valley, and the hills creptdown to the distance of a gun-shot. The mounting tiers of stone andbrawling water caught the moonlight in waves, and now he was in a coldpit of shadow and now in a patch of radiant moonshine. It was a worldof fantasy, a rousing world of wintry hill winds and sudden gleams ofsummer. His spirits rose high, and he forgot all else in plainenjoyment. Now at last he had found life, rich, wild, girt withmarvels. He was beginning to whistle some air when his pony shiedviolently and fell back, and at the same moment a pistol-shot crackedout of a patch of thorn. 

He turned the beast and rode straight at the thicket, which was a verylittle one. The ball had wandered somewhere into the void, and no harmwas done, but he was curious about its owner. Up on the hillside heseemed to see a dark figure scrambling among the cliffs in the frettedmoonlight. 

It is unpleasant to be shot at in the dark from the wayside, but at themoment the thing pleased this strange young man. It seemed a token thatat last he was getting to work. He found a rope stretched taut acrossthe road, which accounted for the pony's stumble. Laughing heartily, hecut it with his knife, and continued, cheerful as before, but somewhatless fantastic. Now he kept a sharp eye on all wayside patches. 

At the head of the valley the waters of the stream forked into twotorrents, one flowing from the east in an open glen up which ran theroad to Yarkand, the other descending from the northern hills in a wildgully. At the foot stood a little hut with an apology for stabling, where an old and dirty gentleman of the Hunza race pursued his callingtill such time as he should attract the notice of his friends up in thehills and go to paradise with a slit throat. 

Lewis roused the man with a violent knocking at the door. The oldruffian appeared with a sputtering lamp which might have belonged to acave man, and a head of matted grey hair which suggested the sameorigin. He was old and suspicious, but at Lewis's bidding he hobbledforth and pointed out the stabling. 

"The pony is to stay here till it is called for. Do you hear? And ifHolm Sahib returns and finds that it is not fed he will pay you nothing. So good night, father. Sound sleep and a good conscience. "

He turned to the twisting hill road which ran up from the light into thegloom of the cleft with all the vigour of an old mountaineer who hasbeen long forced to dwell among lowlands. Once a man acquires the artof hill walking he will always find flat country something of a burden, and the mere ascent of a slope will have a tonic's power. The path wasgood, but perilous at the best, and the proximity of yawning precipicesgave a zest to the travel. The road would fringe a pit of shade, blackbut for the gleam of mica and the scattered foam of the stream. It wasno longer a silent world. Hawks screamed at times from the cliffs, anda multitude of bats and owls flickered in the depths. A continuousfalling of waters, an infinite sighing of night winds, the swaying andtossing which is always heard in the midmost mountain solitudes, thecrumbling of hill gravel and the bleat of a goat on some hill-side, allmade a cheerful accompaniment to the scraping of his boots on the rockyroad. 

He remembered the way as if he had travelled it yesterday. Soon thegorge would narrow and he would be almost at the water's edge. Then thepath turned to the right and wound into the heart of a side nullah, which at length brought it out on a little plateau of rocks. There theroad climbed a long ridge till at last it reached the great plateau, where Forza, set on a small hilltop, watched thirty miles of primevaldesert. The air was growing chilly, for the road climbed steeply andalready it was many thousand feet above the sea. The curious salt smellwhich comes from snow and rock was beginning to greet his nostrils. Theblood flowed more freely in his veins, and insensibly he squared hisshoulders to drink in the cold hill air. It was of the mountains andyet strangely foreign, an air with something woody and alpine in theheart of it, an air born of scrub and snow-clad rock, and not of his ownfree spaces of heather. But it was hill-born, and this contented him;it was night-born, and it refreshed him. In a little the road turneddown to the stream side, and he was on the edge of a long dark pool. 

The river, which made a poor show in the broad channel at Bardur, wasnow, in this straitened place, a full lipping torrent of clear, greenwater. Lewis bathed his flushed face and drank, and it was as cold assnow. It stung his face to burning, and as he walked the heartsome glowof great physical content began to rise in his heart. He felt fit andready for any work. Life was quick in his sinews, his brain was aweathercock, his strength was tireless. At last he had found a man'slife. He had never had a chance before. Life had been too easy andsheltered; he had been coddled like a child; he had never roughed itexcept for his own pleasure. Now he was outside this backbone of theworld with a task before him, and only his wits for his servant. Etonand Oxford, Eton and Oxford--so it had been for generations--aneducation sufficient to damn a race. Stocks was right, and he had allalong been wrong; but now he was in a fair way to taste the world's ironand salt, and he exulted at the prospect. 

It was hard walking in the nullah. In and out of great crevices theroad wound itself, on the brink of stupendous waterfalls, or in theheart of a brushwood tangle. Soon a clear vault of sky replaced theout-jutting crags, and he came out on a little plateau where a very coldwind was blowing. The smell of snow was in the air, a raw smell likesalt when carried on a north wind over miles of granite crags. But onthe little tableland the moon was shining clearly. It was green withsmall cloud-berries and dwarf juniper, and the rooty fragrance was forall the world like an English bolt or a Highland pasture. Lewis flunghimself prone and buried his face among the small green leaves. Then, still on the ground, he scanned the endless yellow distance. Mountains, serrated and cleft as in some giant's play, rose on every hand, whilethrough the hollows gleamed the farther snow-peaks. This little bareplateau must be naked to any eye on any hill-side, and at the thought hegot to his feet and advanced. 

At first sight the place had looked not a mile long, but before he gotto the farther slope he found that it was nearer two. The mountain airhad given him extraordinary lightness, and he ran the distance, findingthe hard, sandy soil like a track under his feet. The slope, when hehad reached it, proved to be abrupt and boulder-strewn, and the path hadan ugly trick of avoiding steepness by skirting horrible precipices. Luckily the moon was bright, and the man was an old mountaineer;otherwise he might have found a grave in the crevices which seamed thehill. 

He had not gone far when he began to realize that he was not the onlyoccupant of the mountain side. A whistle which was not a bird's seemedto catch his ear at times, and once, as he shrank back into the lee of aboulder, there was the sound of naked feet on the road before him. Thiswas news indeed, and he crept very cautiously up the rugged path. Once, when in shelter, he looked out, and for a second, in a patch ofmoonlight, he saw a man with the loose breeches and tightened girdle ofthe hillmen. He was running swiftly as if to some arranged place ofmeeting. 

The sight put all doubts out of his head. An attack on Forza wasimminent, and this was the side from which least danger would beexpected. If the enemy got there before him they would find an easyentrance. The thought made him quicken his pace. These scatteredtribesmen must meet before they attacked, and there might still be timefor him to get in front. His ears were sharp as a deer's to theslightest sound. A great joy in the game possessed him. When hecrouched in the shelter of a granite boulder or sprawled among the scrubwhile the light footsteps of a tribesman passed on the road he felt thatone point was scored to him in a game in which he had no advantages. Heblessed his senses trained by years of sport to a keenness beyond atownsman's; his eye, which could see distances clear even in the mistymoonlight; his ear, which could judge the proximity of sounds with anice exactness. Twice he was on the brink of discovery. A twig snappedas he lay in cover, and he heard footsteps pause, and he knew that apair of very keen eyes were scanning the brushwood. He blessed hislucky choice in clothes which had made him bring a suit so near the hueof his hiding-place. Then he felt that the eyes were averted, thefootsteps died away, and he was safe. Again, as he turned a cornerswiftly, he almost came on the back of a man who was stepping alongleisurely before him. For a second he stopped, and then he was backround the corner, and had swung himself up to a patch of shadow on thecrag-side. He looked down and saw his enemy clearly in the moonlight; along, ferret-faced fellow, with a rifle hung on his back and an uglycrooked knife in his hand. The man looked round, sniffing the air likea stag, and then, satisfied that there was nothing to fear, turned andwent on. Lewis, who had been sitting on a sharp jag of rock, swung anaching body to the ground and advanced circumspectly. 

In an hour or two he came to the top of the slope and the beginning ofthe second tableland. A grey dimness was taking the place of the dark, and it had suddenly grown bitterly cold. Dawn in such high latitudes isnot a thing of violent changes, but of slow and subtle gradations oflight, of sudden, coy flushes of colour, of thin winds and brightfleeting hazes. He lay for a minute in the scrub of cloud-berries, thecollar of his coat buttoned round his throat, and the morning wind, fresh from leagues of snow, blowing chill on his face. Behind was theslope alive with men who at any moment might emerge on the plateau. Hewaited for the sight of a figure, but none came; clearly the muster wasnot yet complete. A thought grew in his brain, and a sudden clearnessin the air translated it into action; for in the hazy distance acrossthe tableland he saw the walls of Forza fort. 

The place could not be two miles off, and between it and him there wasthe smooth benty plateau. He might make a rush for it and crossunobserved. Even now the early sun was beginning to strike it. Theyellow-grey walls stood out clear against the far line of mountains, andthe wisp of colour which fluttered in the wind was clearly the Britishflag. The exceeding glory of the morning gave him a new vigour. Whyshould not he run with any tribesman of the lot? If he could but avoidthe risk of a rifle bullet at the outset, he would have no fear of theissue. 

He glanced behind him. The place seemed still, though far down therewas a tinkle as of little stones falling. He stood up, straightenedhimself for one moment till he had filled his lungs with the clean air. Then he started to run quickly towards the fort. 

The full orb of the sun topped the mountains and the dazzle was in hiseyes from the first. If he covered the first half-mile unpursued hewould be safe; otherwise he might expect a bullet. It was a comicfeeling-the wide green heath, the fresh air, the easy vigour in hisstride, the flush of the morning sun, and that awkward, nervous weaknessin the small of his back where a bullet might be expected to find alodgment. 

He never looked back till he had gone what seemed to him the properdistance, and then he glanced hurriedly over his shoulder. 

Two men had emerged from the scrub and stood on the edge of the slope. They were gazing intently at him, and suddenly one lifted a Snider tohis shoulder and fired. The bullet burrowed in the sand to the right ofhim. Again he looked back and there they were--five of them now--cryingout to him. Then with one accord they followed over the plateau. 

It was now a clear race for life. He must keep beyond reasonablerifle-shot; otherwise a broken leg might bring him to a standstill. Hecursed the deceptive clearness of the hill air which made it impossiblefor his unpractised eye to judge distances. The fort stood clear inevery stone, but it might be miles off though it looked scarcely athousand yards. Apparently it was still asleep, for no smoke wasrising, and, strain his ears as he might, he could hear no sound of asentry's walk. This looked awkward indeed for him. If the people werenot awake to receive him, he would be potted against its wall as surelyas a rat in a corner. He grew acutely nervous, and as he drew nearer hemade the air hideous with shouts to wake the garrison. A clear race inthe open he did not mind; but he had no stomach for a game ofhide-and-seek around an unscalable wall with an active enemy. 

Apparently the gentry behind him were growing despondent. Two riflebullets, fired by running men, sang unsteadily in his wake. He was nowso near that he could see the rough wooden gate and the pyramidal nailswith which it was studded. He could guess the number of paces betweenhim and safety. He was out of breath and a little tired, for thescramble up the nullah had not been a light one. Again he yelledfrantically to the dead walls, beseeching their inmates to get out ofbed and save his life. 

There was still no sound from the sleeping fortress. He was barely ahundred yards off, and he saw now that the walls were too high to climband that nothing remained but the gate. He picked up a stone and flungit against the woodwork. The din echoed through the empty place, butthere was no sound of life. Just at the threshold there was a patch ofshadow. It was his one way of escape, and as he reached the door andkicked and hammered at the wood, he cowered down in the shade, prayingthat his friends behind might be something less than sharpshooters. 

The pursuit saw its chance, and running forward to get within easyrange, proceeded to target practice. Lewis, kicking diligently at thedoor, was trying to draw himself into the smallest space, and his mindwas far from comfortable. It needs good nerves to fill the position ofa target with equanimity, and he was too tired to take it in good part. A disagreeable cold sweat stood on his brow, and his heart beatviolently. Then a bullet did what all his knocking had failed to do, for it crashed into the woodwork and woke the garrison. He heard feethurrying across a yard, and then it seemed to him that men werereconnoitring from the top of the wall. A second later--when the thirdbullet had buried itself in dust a foot beyond his head--the heavy gatewas half opened and a man's hand assisted him to crawl inside. 

He looked up to see a tall figure in pyjamas standing over him. "Now Iwonder who the deuce you are?" it was saying. 

"My name's Haystoun. H-a-y-s;" then he broke off and laughed. He hadfallen into his old trick of spelling his name to the Oxford tradesmenwhen he was young and hated to have it garbled. 

He looked up at the questioner again. "Bless me, Andy, so it's you. "

The man gave a yell of delight. "Lewis, upon my soul. Who'd havethought it? It is a Providence. By Gad, I believe I'm just in time tosave your life. "

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE HILL-FORT

Lewis got to his feet and blinked at the morning sun across the yard. 

"That was a near shave. Phew, I hate being a target for sharpshooting!These devils are your friends the Bada-Mawidi. "

"The deuce they are, " said Andover lugubriously. "I always knew it. I've told Holm a hundred times, and now here is the beggar away sick andI am left to pay the piper. "

"I know. I met him in Bardur, and that's why I'm here. He told me totell you to mind the north gate. "

"More easily said than done. We're too few by half here if things getnasty. How was the chap looking?"

"Pretty miserable. Thwaite and I put him to bed. Then they sent me offhere, for I've got news for you. You know a man called Marker?"

Andover nodded. 

"I was dining with him the day before yesterday, and yesterday morning Igot a note from him. He says that he has heard from some private sourcethat the Bada-Mawidi were arming and proposed an attack on Forza to-day. He thinks they may have got their arms from the other side, you know. At any rate he asked me to try to let you hear, and when I saw Holm lastnight and heard that such a thing was possible, I came off at once. Isuppose Marker is the sort of man who should know. "

"What did Thwaite say?"

"He was keen that I should come at once. Do you think that it's a falsealarm?"

"Oh, it will be genuine enough on Marker's part, but he may have beenmisinformed. What beats me is the attack by day. I know the Badas as Iknow my own name, and they're too few at the best to have any chance ofrushing the place. Besides, they are poor fighters in the open. On theother hand they are devils incarnate in a night attack, as we used tofind to our cost. You are sure he said to-day?"

"Sure. Some time this morning. "

"Wonder what their game is. However, he ought to be right if anybodyis, and we are much obliged to you for your trouble. You had a prettyhard time in the open, but how on earth did you get up the hill?"

"Deerstalking style. It was good sport. But for heaven's sake, Andy, give me breakfast, and tell me what you want me to do. I am under yourorders now. "

"You'd better feed and then sleep for a bit. If you don't mind I'llleave you, for I've got to be very busy. And poor old Holm lookedpretty sick, did he? Well, I am glad he has been saved this affairanyhow. "

A Sikh orderly brought Lewis breakfast. Beyond the tent door there wasstir in the garrison. Men were deployed in the yard, Gurkhas mainly, with a few Kashmir sepoys, and the loud harsh voice of Andover wasraised to give orders. It was a hot still morning, with somethingthunderous in the air. Hot sulphurous clouds were massing on thewestern horizon, and the cool early breeze had gone. The whole placesmelt of powder. 

Half-way through the meal Andover returned, his lean face red withexertion. "I've got things more or less in order. They may easilystarve us out, for we are wretchedly provisioned, but I don't thinkthey'll get us with a rush. I wonder when the show is to commence. " Hedrank some coffee, and then filled a pipe. 

"I left a man at Nazri. If the thing turns out to be a small affair Iam to meet him there to-night; but if I don't come he is to know that itis serious and go and warn the Khautmi people. You haven't a connectionby any chance?"

"No. Wish we had. The heliograph is no good, and the telegraph isstill under the consideration of some engineer man. But how do youpropose to get to Nazri? It's only twelve miles, but they are mostly upon end. "

"I did it when I was here before. It's easy enough if you have done anyrock-climbing, and I can leave with the light. Besides, there's amoon. "

Andover laughed. "You've turned over a new leaf, Lewis. Your energyputs us all to shame. I wish I had your physical gifts, my son. Theworst of being long and lanky in a place like this is that you're alwaysas stiff as a poker. I shall die of sciatica before I am forty. Butupon my word it is queer meeting you here in the loneliest spot increation. When I saw you in town before I came out, you were going intoParliament or some game of that kind. Then I heard that you had beenout here, and gone back; and now for no earthly reason I waken up onefine morning to find you being potted at before my gate. You're assudden as Marker, and a long chalk more mysterious. "

Lewis looked grave. "I wish Marker were only as simple as me, or I assudden as him. It's a gift not learned in a day. Anyhow I'm here, andwe've got a day's sport before us. Hullo, the ball seems about to open. "Little puffs of smoke and dust were rising from beyond the wall, and onthe heavy air came the faint ping-ping of rifles. 

Andover stretched himself elaborately. "Lord alive, but this is absurd. What do these beggars expect to do? They can't shell a fort with stolenexpresses. "

The two men went up to the edge of the wall and looked over the plateau. A hundred yards off stood a group of tribesmen formed in some semblanceof military order, each with a smoking rifle in his hand. It was like aparody of a formation, and Andover after rubbing his eyes burst into aroar of laughter. 

"The beggars must be mad. What in heaven's name do they expect to do, standing there like mummies and potting at a stone wall? There's twomore companies of them over there. It isn't war, it's comic opera. " Andhe sat down, still laughing, on the edge of a gun-case to put on theboots which his orderly had brought. 

It was comic opera, but the tinge of melodrama was not absent. When asufficient number of rounds had been fired, the tribesmen, as if actingon half-understood instructions from some prehistoric manual, slungtheir rifles on their shoulders and came on. The fire from the fort didnot stop them, though it broke their line. In a minute they wereclutching at every hand-grip and foothold on the wall, and Andover witha beaming face directed the disposition of his men. 

Forza is built of great, rough stones, with ends projecting in placescyclopean-wise, which to an active man might give a foothold. Thelittle garrison was at its posts, and picked the men off with carbinesand revolvers, and in emergencies gave a brown chest the straightbayonet-thrust home. The tribesmen fought like fiends, scrambling upsilently with long knives between their teeth, till a shot found themand they rolled back to die on the sand at the foot. Now and againa man would reach the parapet and spring down into the courtyard. Thenit was the turn of Andover and Lewis to account for him, and they didnot miss. One man with matted hair and beard was at Lewis's back beforehe saw him. A crooked knife had nearly found that young man's neck, buta lucky twisting aside saved him. He dodged his adversary up and downthe yard till he got his pistol from his inner pocket. Then it was histurn to face about. The man never stopped and a ball took him betweenthe eyes. He dropped dead as a stone, and his knife flying from hishand skidded along the sand till it stopped with a clatter on thestones. The sound in the hot sulphurous air grated horribly, and Lewisclapped his hands to his ears to find that he too had not come offscathless. The knife had cut the lobe, and, bleeding like a pig, hewent in search of water. 

The assailants seemed prepared to find paradise speedily, for they werenot sparing with their lives. The attacking party was small, andapparently there was no reserve, for in all the wide landscape there wasno sign of man. Then for no earthly reason the assault was at an end. One by one the men dropped back and disappeared from the plateau. Therewas no overt signal, no sound; but in a little the annoyed garrison werelooking at vacancy and one another. 

"This is the devil's own business, " said Andover, rubbing his eyes. Themen, too astonished to pick off stragglers, allowed the enemy to meltinto space; then they set themselves down with rifles cuddled up totheir chins, and stared at Andover. 

"It beats me, " said that disturbed man. "How many killed?"

"Seven, " said a sergeant. "About five more wounded. None of ustouched, barring a bullet in my boot, and two Johnnies slashed on thecheek. Seems to me as if the gen'lman, Mr. 'Aystoun, was 'it, though. "

At the word Andover ran for his quarters, where he found his servantdressing Lewis's wounded ear. That young man with a face of greatdespair was inclining his head over a basin. 

"What's the matter, Andy? Don't tell me the show has stopped. Ithought they were game to go on for hours, and I was just coming to joinyou. "

"They've gone, every mother's son of them. I told you it was comicopera all along. Seven of them have found the part too much for them, but the rest have cleared out like smoke. I give it up. "

Lewis stared at the speaker, his brain busy with a problem. For amoment before the fight, and for a little during its progress he hadbeen serenely happy. He had done something hard and perilous; he hadrisked bullets; he had brought authentic news of a real danger. He washappily at peace with himself; the bland quiet of conscience which hehad not felt for months had given him the vision of a new life. But thedanger had faded away in smoke; and here was Andover with a mystifiedface asking its meaning. 

"I swear that those fellows never had the least intention of beating us. There were far too few of them for one thing. They looked likecriminals fighting under sentence, you know, like the Persian fellows. It was more like some religious ceremony than a fight. The whole thingis beyond me, but I think no harm's done. Hang it, I wish Holm werehere. He's a depressing beggar, but he takes responsibility off myshoulders. "

The dead men were buried as quickly and decently as the place allowedof. Things were generally cleaned up, and by noon the little fort wasas spick as if the sound of a rifle had never been heard within itswalls. Lewis and Andover had the midday meal in a sort of gun-roomwhich looked over the edge of the plateau to a valley in the hills. Ithad been arranged and furnished by a former commandant who found in theview a repetition of the one in a much-loved Highland shooting-box. Accordingly it was comfortable and homelike beyond the average offrontier dwellings. Outside a dripping mist had clouded the hills andchilled the hot air. 

The two men smoked silently, knocking out their ashes and refilling withthe regularity of clockwork. Lewis was thinking hard, thinking of thebitterness of dashed hopes, of self-confidence clutched at and lost. Hesaw as if in an inspiration the trend of Marker's plans. He had beengiven a paltry fictitious errand, like a bone to a dog, to quiet him. Some devilry was afoot and he must be got out of the road. For a secondthe thought pleased him, the thought that at least one man held himworthy of attention, and went out of his way to circumvent him. But thegleam of satisfaction was gone in a moment. He could not even be surethat there was guile at the back of it. It might be all foolishhonesty, and to a man cursed with a sense of weakness the thought ofsuch a pedestrian failure was trebly intolerable. 

But honesty was inconceivable. He and he alone in all the frontiercountry knew Marker and his ways. To Andover, sucking his pipe dismallybeside him, the thing appeared clear as the daylight. Marker, the bestman alive, had word of some Bada-Mawidi doings and had given a friendlyhint. It was not his blame if the thing had fizzled out like damppowder. But to Lewis, Marker was a man of uncanny powers andintelligence beyond others, the iron will of the true adventurer. Theremust be devilry behind it all, and to the eye of suspicion there wasdoubt in every detail. And meantime he had fallen an easy victim. Marooned in this frontier fort, the world might be turned topsy-turvy atBardur, and he not a word the wiser. Things were slipping from hisgrasp again. He had an intense desire to shut his eyes and let alldrift. He had done enough. He had come up here at the risk of hisneck; fate had fought against him, and he must succumb. The fatalwisdom of proverbs was all on his side. 

But once again conscience assailed him. Why had he believed Marker, knowing what he knew? He had been led by the nose like a crudeschool-boy. It was nothing to him that he had to believe or remain idlein Bardur. Another proof of his folly! This importunate sense ofweakness was the weakest of all qualities. It made him a nervous andawkward follower of strength, only to plunge deeper into the mud ofincapacity. 

Andover looked at him curiously. His annoyance was of a differentstamp--a little disappointment, intense boredom, and the ever-presentfrontier anxiety. But such were homely complaints to be forgotten overa pipe and in sleep. It struck him that his companion's eyes betrayedsomething more, and he kicked him on the shins into attention. 

"Been seedy lately? Have some quinine. Or if you can't sleep I cantell you a dodge. But you know you are looking a bit cheap, old man. "

"I'm pretty fit, " said Lewis, and he raised his brown face to a glass. "Why I'm tanned like a nigger and my eye's perfectly clear. "

"Then you're in love, " said the mysterious Andover. "Trust me forknowing. When a man keeps as quiet as you for so long, he's either inlove or seedy. Up here people don't fall in love, so I thought it mustbe the other thing. "

"Rot, " said Lewis. "I'm going out of doors. I must be off pretty soon, if I'm to get to Nazri by sundown. I wish you'd come out and show methe sort of lie of the land. There are three landmarks, but I can'tremember their order. "

An hour later the two men returned, and Lewis sat down to an earlydinner. He ate quickly, and made up sandwiches which he stuffed intohis pocket. Then he rose and gripped his host's hand. 

"Good-bye, Andy. This has been a pleasant meeting. Wish it could havebeen longer. "

"Good-bye, old chap. Glad to have seen you. My love to George, if youget to Nazri. Give you three to one in half-crowns you won't get thereto-night. "

"Done, " said Lewis. "You shall pay when I see you next. " And in themost approved style of the hero of melodrama he lit a short pipe andwent off into Immensity. 

CHAPTER XXIX

THE WAY TO NAZRI

Our traveller did not reach Nazri that night for many reasons, of whichthe chief shall be told. The way to Nazri is long and the way to Nazriis exceedingly rough. Leaving the table-land you plunge down atrackless gully into the dry bed of a stream. Thence it is an hour'suneasy walking among stagnant pools and granite boulders to the foot ofanother nullah which runs up to the heart of the hills. From this youpick your way along the precipitous side of a mountain, and if your headis good and your feet sure, may come eventually to a place like the roofof the house, beyond which lies a thicket of thorn-bushes and the Nazrigully. At first sight the thing seems impossible, but by a bold man itcan be crossed either in the untanned Kashmir shoes or with the nakedfeet. 

Lewis had not gone a mile and had barely reached the dry watercourse, when the weather broke utterly in a storm of mist and fine rain. Atother times this chill weather would have been a comfort, but here inthese lonely altitudes, with a difficult path before him, its result wasto confound confusion. So long as he stuck to the stream he had someguidance; it was hard, even when the air was like a damp blanket, tomistake the chaos of boulder and shingle which meant the channel. Butthe mist was close to him and wrapped him in like a quilt, and he lookedin vain for the foot of the nullah he must climb. He tried keeping bythe edge and feeling his way, but it only landed him in a ditch ofstagnant slime. The thing was too vexatious, and his temper went; andwith his temper his last chance of finding his road. When he hadstumbled for what seemed hours he sat down on a boulder and whistleddismally. The stream belonged to another watershed. If he followed it, assuming that he did not break his neck over a dry cataract, he would bethrough the mountains and near Taghati quicker than he intended. Meantime the miserable George would wait at Nazri, would rouse theKhautmi garrison on a false alarm, and would find himself irretrievablyseparated from his friend. The thought was so full of irritation, thathe resolved not to stir one step further. He would spend the night ifneed be in this place and wait till the mist lifted. 

He found a hollow among the boulders, and improvidently ate half hisstore of sandwiches. Then, finding his throat dry, he got up to huntfor water. A trickle afar off in the rocks led him on, and sure enoughhe found water; but when he tried to retrace his steps to his formerresting place he found that he had forgotten the way. This new placewas conspicuously less sheltered, but he sat down on the wet gravel, lita pipe with difficulty, and with his knees close to his chin strove topossess his soul in patience. 

He was tired, for he had slept little for two days, and the closer airof the ravine made him drowsy. He had lost any sense of discomfort fromthe wet, and was in the numb condition of the utterly drenched. Hecould not spend the night like this, so he roused himself and stoodstaring, pipe in teeth, into the drizzle. The mist seemed clearer. Hewas a little stupid, so he did not hear the sound of feet on stones tillthey were almost on him. Then through the haze he saw a procession offigures moving athwart the channel. They were not his countrymen, forthey walked with the stoop forward which no Englishman can ever quitemaster in his hill-climbing. Lewis turned to flee, but in his numbnessof mind and body missed footing, and fell sprawling over a bank ofshingle. He scrambled to his feet only to find hands at his throat, andhimself a miserable prisoner. 

The scene had shifted with a vengeance, and his first and sole impulsewas to laugh. It is possible that if the scarf of a brawny tribesmanhad not been so tight across his chest he would have astonished hiscaptors with hysterical laughter. But the jolt as he was dragged uphill, tied close to a horse's side, was unfavourable to merriment, andraw despondency filled his soul. This was the end of his fine doings. The prisoner of unknown bandits, hurried he knew not whence, a prettypass for an adventurer. This was the seal on his ineffectiveness. Shotagainst a rock, held up to some sordid ransom, he was as impotent forgood or ill as if he had stayed at home. For a second he longed to pullhorse and captor with one wrench over the brink to the kindly gulf whereall was quiet. 

The bitterest ill-humour possessed this meekest of men. Normally hewould have been afraid, for he was an imaginative being who fearedhorrors and had little relish for them. But there is a certain perfectbad temper which casteth out fear, and this held him in its grip. Hecursed the mountain solitude and he cursed the Bada-Mawidi with awfuldirectness. Then he chose silence as the easier part, and trudged likea stolid criminal till, half in a daze of weariness and sleep, he foundthat the cavalcade had halted. 

The place was the edge of a little tableland where in a hollow amongrocks lay a collection of mud-walled huts. A fire, in spite of the dampweather, blazed cheerfully in the midst of the clearing. There wascommotion in the huts, every door was opened, and evil-smelling peoplepoured forth with cries and questions. The leader of the newly arrivedparty bowed himself before a short, square man whom we have met before, and spoke something in his ear. Fazir Khan looked up sharply at Lewis, then laughed, and spoke something to his men in his own tongue. 

Lewis comprehended barely a few words of Chil, the Bada tongue, and heknew little of the frontier speeches. But to his amazement the chiefaddressed him in tolerable, if halting, English. It was not for nothingthat Fazir Khan had harried the Border and sojourned incognito in everytown in North India. 

"Allah has given thee to us, my son, " he said sweetly. "It is vain tofight against God. I have heard of thee as the Englishman who wouldknow more than is good for man to know. You were at Forza to-day. "

Lewis's temper was at its worst. "I was at Forza to-day, and I watchedyour people running. Had they waited a little longer we should haveslain them all, and then have come for you. "

The chief smiled unpleasantly. "My people did not fight at Forzato-day. That was but the sport to draw on fools. Soon we shall fightin earnest, but in a different place, and thou shalt not see. "

"I am your prisoner, " said Lewis grimly, "and it is in your power to dowith me as you please. But remember that for every hair of my head mypeople will take the lives of four of your cattle-lifters. "

"That is an old story, " said Fazir Khan wearily, "and I have heard itmany times before. You speak boldly like a man, and because you are notafraid I will tell you the truth. In a very little there will be notone of your people in the land, only the Bada-Mawidi, and others whom Ido not name. "

"That is a still older story. I have heard it since I was in mymother's arms. Do you think to frighten me by such a tale?"

"Let us not talk of fear, " said the chief with some politeness. "Thereare two races in your people, one which talks and allies itself withBengalis and swine, and one which lives in hard places and follows war. The second I love, and had it been possible, I would have allied myselfwith it and driven the others into the sea. " This petty chieftain spokewith the pride of one who ruled the destinies of the earth. 

Lewis was unimpressed. "I am tired of your riddles, " he said. "If youwould kill me have done with it. If you would keep me prisoner, give mefood and a place to sleep. But if you would be merciful, let me go andshow me the way to Bardur. Life is too short for waiting. "

Fazir Khan laughed loudly, and spoke something to his people. 

"You shall join in our company for the night, " he said. "I have eatenof the salt of your people and I do not murder without cause. Also Ilove a bold man. "

Lewis was led into the largest of the huts and given food and warm Hunzawine. The place was hot to suffocation; large beads of moisture stoodon the mud walls, and the smell of uncleanly clothing and sweating limbswas difficult to stand. But the man's complexion was hard, and he madean excellent supper. Thereafter he became utterly drowsy. He had it inhis mind to question this Fazir Khan about his dark sayings, but hiseyes closed as if drawn by a magnet and his head nodded. It may havebeen something in the wine; it may have been merely the vigil of thelast night, and the toil of the past hours. At any rate his mind wassoon a blank, and when a servant pointed out a heap of skins in acorner, he flung himself on them and was at once asleep. He was utterlyat their mercy, but his course, had he known it, was the wisest. Even aBada's treachery has its limits, and he will not knife a confidentguest. The men talked and wrangled, ate and drank, and finally snoredaround him, but he slept through it all like a sleeper of Ephesus. 

When he woke the hut was cleared. The village slept late but he hadslept later, for the sun was piercing the unglazed windows and makingpattern-work on the earth floor. He had slept soundly a sleep hauntedwith nightmares, and he was still dazed as he peered out into the squarewhere men were passing. He saw a sentry at the door of his hut, whichreminded him of his condition. All the long night he had been far away, fishing, it seemed to him, in a curious place which was Glenavelin, andyet was ever changing to a stranger glen. It was moonlight, still, bright and warm on all the green hill shoulders. He remembered that hecaught nothing, but had been deliriously happy. People seemed passingon the bank, Arthur and Wratislaw and Julia Heston, and all hisboyhood's companions. He talked to them pleasantly, and all the whilehe was moving up the glen which lay so soft in the moonlight. Heremembered looking everywhere for Alice Wishart, but her face waswanting. Then suddenly the place seemed to change. The sleeping glenchanged to a black sword-cut among rocks, his friends disappeared, andonly George was left. He remembered that George cried out something andpointed to the gorge, and he knew--though how he knew it he could nottell--that the lost Alice was somewhere there before him in the darknessand he must go towards her. Then he had wakened shivering, for in thatdarkness there was terror as well as joy. 

He went to the door, only to find himself turned back by the sheep-skinsentry, who half unsheathed for his benefit an ugly knife. He foundthat his revolver, his sole weapon, had been taken while he slept. Escape was impossible till his captors should return. 

A day of burning sun had followed on the storm. Out of doors in thescorching glare from the rock there seemed an extraordinary bustle. Itwas like the preparations for a march, save that there seemed no methodin the activity. One man burnished a knife, a dozen were cleaningrifles, and all wore the evil-smelling finery with which the hillmandecks his person for war. Their long oiled hair was tied in a sort ofrude knot, new and fuller turbans adorned the head, and on the feet werestout slippers of Bokhara make. Lewis had keen eyesight, and he stroveto read the marks on the boxes of cartridges which stood in a corner. It was not the well-known Government mark which usually brands stolenammunition. The three crosses with the crescent above--he had seen thembefore, but his memory failed him. It might have been at Bardur in theinn; it might have been at home in the house of some great traveller. At any rate the sight boded no good to himself or the border peace. Hethought of George waiting alone at Nazri, and then obediently warningthe people at Khautmi. By this time Andover would know he was missing, and men would be out on a very hopeless search. At any rate he had donesome good, for if the Badas meant marching they would find the garrisonsprepared. 

About noon there was a bustle in the square and Fazir Khan with a dozenof his tail swaggered in. He came straight to the hut, and two menentered and brought out the prisoner. Lewis stiffened his back andprepared not reluctantly for a change in the situation. He had nospecial fear of this smiling, sinister chieftain. So far he had beenspared, and now it seemed unlikely that in the midst of this bustle ofwar there would be room for the torture which alone he dreaded. So hemet the chief's look squarely, and at the moment he thanked the lotwhich had given him two more inches of height. 

"I have sent for thee, my son, " said Fazir Khan, "that you may see howgreat my people is. "

"I have seen, " said Lewis, looking round. "You have a large collectionof jackals, but you will not bring many back. "

The notion tickled Fazir Khan and he laughed with great good-humour. "So, so, " he cried. "Behold how great is the wisdom of youth. I willtell you a secret, my son. In a little the Bada-Mawidi, my people, willbe in Bardur and a little later in the fat corn lands of the south, andI, Fazir Khan, will sit in King's palaces. " He looked contemptuouslyround at his mud walls, his heart swelling with pride. 

"What the devil do you mean?" Lewis asked with rising suspicion. Thiswas not the common talk of a Border cateran. 

"I mean what I mean, " said the other. "In a little all the world shallsee. But because I have a liking for a bold cockerel like thee, I willspeak unwisely. The days of your people are numbered. This very nightthere are those coming from the north who will set their foot on yournecks. "

Lewis went sick at heart. A thousand half-forgotten suspicions calledclamorously. This was the secret of the burlesque at Forza, and the newvalour of the Badas. He saw Marker's game with the fatal clearness ofone who is too late. He had been given a chance of a little piece ofservice to avert his suspicions. Marker had fathomed him well as onewho must satisfy a restless conscience but had no stomach for anythingbeyond. Doubtless he thought that now he would be enjoying the restafter labour at Forza, flattering himself on saving a garrison, when allthe while the force poured down which was to destroy an empire. An armyfrom the north, backed and guided by every Border half-breed andoutlaw--what hope of help in God's name was to be found in the sleepyforts and the unsuspecting Bardur?

And the Kashmir and the Punjab? A train laid in every town and village. Supplies in readiness, communications waiting to be held, railways readyfor capture. Europe was on the edge of a volcano. He saw an outbreakthere which would keep Britain employed at home, while the great powerwith her endless forces and bottomless purse poured her men over thefrontier. But at the thought of the frontier he checked himself. Therewas no road by which an army could march; if there was any it could beblocked by a handful. A week's, a day's delay would save the north, andthe north would save the empire. 

His voice came out of his throat with a crack in it like an old man's. 

"There is no road through the mountains. I have been there before and Iknow. "

Again Fazir Khan smiled. "I use no secrecy to my friends. There is away, though all men do not know it. From Nazri there is a valleyrunning towards the sunrise. At the head there is a little ridge easilycrossed, and from that there is a dry channel between high precipices. It is not the width of a man's stature, so even the sharp eyes of mybrother might miss it. Beyond that there is a sandy tableland, and thenanother valley, and then plains. "

The plan of the place was clear in Lewis's brain. He remembered eachdetail. The long nullah on which he had looked from the hill-tops had, then, an outlet, and did not end, as he had guessed, in a dead wall ofrock. Fool and blind! to have missed so glorious a chance!

He stood staring dumbly around him, unconscious that he was thelaughingstock of all. Then he looked at the chief. 

"Am I your prisoner?" he asked hoarsely. 

"Nay, " said the other good-humouredly, "thou art free. We haveover-much work on hand to-day to be saddled with captives. "

"Then where is Nazri?" he asked. 

The chief laughed a loud laugh of tolerant amusement. "Hear to the boldone, " he cried. "He will not miss the great spectacle. See, I willshow you the road, " and he pointed out certain landmarks. "For one ofmy own people it is a journey of four hours; for thee it will besomething more. But hurry, and haply the game will not have begun. Ifthe northern men take thee I will buy thy life. "

Four hours; the words rang in his brain like a sentence. He had nohope, but a wild craving to attempt the hopeless. George might havereturned to Nazri to wait; it was the sort of docile thing that Georgewould do. In any case not five miles from Nazri was the end of thenorth road and a little telegraph hut used by the Khautmi forts. Thenight would be full moonlight; and by night the army would come. Hiswatch had been stolen, but he guessed by the heavens that it was sometwo hours after noon. Five hours would bring him to Nazri at six, inanother he might be at the hut before the wires were severed. It was acrazy chance, but it was his all, and meanwhile these grinning tribesmenwere watching him like some curious animal. They had talked to himfreely to mock his feebleness. His dominant wish was to escape fromtheir sight. 

He turned to the descent. "I am going to Nazri, " he said. 

The chief held out his pistol. "Take your little weapon. We have noneed of such things when great matters are on hand. Allah speed you, brother! A sure foot and a keen eye may bring you there in time for thesport. " And, still laughing, he turned to enter the hut. 

CHAPTER XXX

EVENING IN THE HILLS

The airless heat of afternoon lay on the rocks and dry pastures. Thefar snow-peaks, seen for a moment through a rift in the hills, shimmeredin the glassy stillness. No cheerful sound of running water filled thehollows, for all was parched and bare with the violence of intemperatesuns and storms. Soon he was out of sight and hearing of the village, travelling in a network of empty watercourses, till at length he came tothe long side of mountain which he knew of old as the first landmark ofthe way. A thin ray of hope began to break up his despair. He knew nowthe exact distance he had to travel, for his gift had always been aninfallible instinct for the lie of a countryside. The sun was stillhigh in the heavens; with any luck he should be at Nazri by six o'clock. 

He was still sore with wounded pride. That Marker should have divinedhis weakness and left open to him a task in which he might rest with acheap satisfaction was bitter to his vanity. The candour of his mindmade him grant its truth, but his new-born confidence was sadlydissipated. And he felt, too, the futility of his efforts. That oneman alone in this precipitous wilderness should hope to wake the Borderseemed a mere nightmare of presumption. But it was possible, he said tohimself. Time only was needed. If he could wake Bardur and the north, and the forts on the passes, there would be delay enough to wake India. If George were at Nazri there would be two for the task; if not, therewould be one at least willing and able. 

It was characteristic of the man that the invasion was bounded for himby Nazri and Bardur. He had no ears for ultimate issues and the ruin ofan empire. Another's fancy would have been busy on the future; Lewissaw only that pass at Nazri and the telegraph-hut beyond. He must getthere and wake the Border; then the world might look after itself. Ashe ran, half-stumbling, along the stony hillside he was hard at workrecounting to himself the frontier defences. The Forza and Khautmigarrisons might hold the pass for an hour if they could be summoned. Itmeant annihilation, but that was in the bargain. Thwaite was strongenough in Bardur, but the town might give him trouble of itself, and hewas not a man of resources. After Bardur there was no need of thought. Two hours after the telegraph clicked in the Nazri hut, the north ofIndia would have heard the news and be bestirring itself for work. Infive hours all would be safe, unless Bardur could be taken and the wirescut. There might be treason in the town, but that again was not hisaffair. Let him but send the message before sunset, and he would stillhave time to get to Khautmi, and with good luck hold the defile forsixty minutes. The thought excited him wildly. His face dripped withsweat, his boots were cut with rock till the leather hung in shreds, anda bleeding arm showed through the rents in his sleeve. But he felt nophysical discomfort, only the exhilaration of a rock climber with thesummit in sight, or a polo player with a clear dribble before him to thegoal. At last he was playing a true game of hazard, and the chance gavehim the keenest joy. 

All the hot afternoon he scrambled till he came to the edge of a newvalley. Nazri must lie beyond, he reasoned, and he kept to the higherground. But soon he was mazed among precipitous shelves which neededall his skill. He had to bring his long stride down to a very slow andcautious pace, and, since he was too old a climber to venture rashly, hemust needs curb his impatience. He suffered the dull recoil of hisearlier vigour. While he was creeping on this accursed cliff theminutes were passing, and every second lessening his chances. He was ina fever of unrest, and only a happy fortune kept him from death. But atlength the place was passed, and the mountain shelved down to a plateau. A wide view lay open to the eye, and Lewis blinked and hesitated. Hehad thought Nazri lay below him, and lo! there was nothing but a tangleof black watercourses. 

The sun had begun to decline over the farther peak, and the man's heartfailed him utterly. These unkind stony hills had been his ruin. He waslost in the most formidable country on God's earth, lost! when hiswhole soul cried out for hurry. He could have wept with misery, andwith a drawn face he sat down and forced himself to think. 

Suddenly a long, narrow black cleft in the farther tableland caught hiseye. He took the direction from the sun and looked again. This must bethe Nazri Pass, which he had never before that day heard of. He sawwhere it ended in a stony valley. Once there he had but to follow thenullah and cross the little ridge to come to Nazri. 

Weariness was beginning to grow on him, but the next miles were thequickest of the day. He seemed to have the foot of a chamois. Down therocky hillside, across the chaos of boulders, and up into the darknullah he ran like a maniac. His mouth was parched with thirst, and hestopped for a moment in the valley bottom to swallow some rain-water. At last he found himself in the Nazri valley, with the thin sword-cutshowing dark in the yellow evening. Another mile and he would be at thecamping-place, and in five more at the hut. 

He kept high up on the ridge, for the light had almost gone and thevalley was perilous. It must be hideously late, eight o'clock or more, he thought, and his despair made him hurry his very weary limbs. Suddenly in the distant hollow he saw the gleam of a fire. He stoppedabruptly and then quickened with a cry of joy. It must be the faithfulGeorge still waiting in the place appointed. Now there would be two tothe task. But it was too late, he bitterly reflected. In a little themoon would rise, and then at any moment the van of the invader mightemerge from the defile. He might warn Bardur, but before anything couldbe done the enemy would be upon them. And then there would be asouthward march upon a doubtful and half-awakened country, and then--heknew not. 

But there was one other way. It had not occurred to him before, for itis not an expedient which comes often to men nowadays, save to such asare fools and outcasts. We are a wise and provident age, mercantile inour heroics, seeking a solid profit for every sacrifice. But thisman--a child of the latter day--had not the new self-confidence, and hewas at the best high-strung, unwise, and unworldly. Besides, he wasbroken with toil and excited with adventure. The last dying rays of thesun were resting on the far snow walls, and the great heart of the westburned in one murky riot of flame. But to the north, whence camedanger, there was a sea of yellow light, islanded with faint roseateclouds like some distant happy country. The air of dusk was thin andchill but stirring as wine to the blood, and all the bare land was forthe moment a fairy realm, mystic, intangible and untrodden. Thefrontier line ran below the camping place; here he was over the border, beyond the culture of his kind. He was alone, for in this adventureGeorge would not share. He would earn nothing, in all likelihood hewould achieve nothing; but by the grace of God he might gain someminutes' respite. He would be killed; but that, again, was no businessof his. At least he could but try, for this was his one shred of hoperemaining. 

The thought, once conceived, could not be rejected. He was no coward orsophist to argue himself out of danger. He laid no flattering unctionto his soul that he had done his best while another way remaineduntried. For this type of man may be half-hearted and a coward inlittle matters, but he never deceives himself. We have all our ownvirtues and their defects. I am a well-equipped and confident person, walking bluffly through the world, looking through and down upon myneighbours, the incarnation of honesty; but I can find excuses formyself when I desire them, I hug my personal esteem too close, and athousand to one I am too great a coward at heart to tell myself thenaked truth. You, on the other hand, are vacillating and ill at yourease. You shrink from the hards of life which I steer happily through. But you have no delusions with yourself, and the odds are that when thetime comes you may choose the "high that proved too high" and achievethe impossibly heroic. 

A tired man with an odd gleam in his eye came out of the shadows to thefirelight and called George by name. 

"My God, Lewis, I am glad to see you! I thought you were lost. Food?"and he displayed the resources of his larder. 

Lewis hunted for the water-bottle and quenched his thirst. Then he ateravenously of the cold wild-fowl and oatcake which George had provided. He was silent and incurious till he had satisfied his wants; then helooked up to meet George's questions. 

"Where on earth have you been? Andover said you started out to comehere last night. I did as you told me, you know, and when you didn'tcome I roused the Khautmi people. They swore a good deal but turnedout, and after an infernal long climb we got to Forza. We roused upAndover after a lot of trouble, and he took us in and gave us supper. He said you had gone off hours ago, and that the Bada-Mawidi businesshad been more or less of a fraud. So I slept there and came back herein the morning in case you should turn up. Been shooting all day, butit was lonely work and I didn't get the right hang of the country. These beggars there are jolly little use, " and he jerked his head in thedirection of the native servants. "What _have_ you been after?"

"I? Oh, I've been in queer places. I fell into the hands of the Badasa couple of hours after I left Forza. There was a storm up there and Igot lost in the mist. They took me up to a village and kept me thereall night. And then I heard news--my God, such news! They let me gobecause they thought I could do no harm and I ran most of the way here. Marker has scored this time, old man. You know how he has been goingabout all North India for the last year or two getting things much hisown way. Well, to-night when the moon rises the great blow is to bestruck. It seems there is a pass to the north of this; I knew the placebut I didn't know of the road. There is an army coming down that placein an hour or so. It is the devil's own business, but it has got to befaced. We must warn Bardur, and trust to God that Bardur may warn thesouth. You know the telegraph hut at the end of the road, when youbegin to climb up the ravine to the place? You must get down there atonce, for every moment is precious. "

George had listened with staring eyes to the tale. "I can't believeit, " he managed to ejaculate. "God, man! it's invasion, an unheard-ofthing!"

"It's the most desperate truth, unheard-of or no. The whole thing liesin our hands. They cannot come till after midnight, and by that timeThwaite may be ready in Bardur, and the Khautmi men may be holding theroad. That would delay them for a little, and by the time they tookBardur they might find the south in arms. It wouldn't matter a straw ifit were an ordinary filibustering business. But I tell you it's a greatarmy, and everything is prepared for it. Marker has been busy formonths. There will be outbreaks in every town in the north. Therailways and arsenals will be captured before ever the enemy appears. There will be a native rising. That was to be bargained for. But Godonly knows how the native troops have been tampered with. That man wasas clever as they make, and he has had a free hand. Oh the blindfools!"

George had turned, and was buttoning the top button of his shooting-coatagainst the chilly night wind. "What shall I say to Thwaite?" heasked. 

"Oh, anything. Tell him it's life or death. Tell him the facts, anddon't spare. You'll have to impress on the telegraph clerk itsimportance first and that will take time. Tell him to send to Gilgitand Srinagar, and then to the Indus Valley. He must send into Chitraltoo and warn Armstrong. Above all things the Kohistan railway must bewatched, because it must be their main card. Lord! I wish I understoodthe game better. Heaven knows it isn't my profession. But Thwaite willunderstand if you scare him enough. Tell him that Bardur must be heldready for siege at any moment. You understand how to work the thing?"

George nodded. "There'll be nobody there, so I suppose I'll have tobreak the door open. I think I remember the trick of the business. _Then_, what do I do?"

"Get up to Khautmi as fast as you can shin it. Better take the servantsand send them before you while you work the telegraph. I supposethey're trustworthy. Get them to warn Mitchinson and St. John. Theymust light the fires on the hills and collect all the men they can spareto hold the road. Of course it's a desperate venture. We'll probablyall be knocked on the head, but we must risk it. If we can stop thebeggars for one half-hour we'll give Thwaite a better chance to set hishouse in order. How I'd sell my soul to see a strong man in Bardur!That will be the key of the position. If the place is uncapturedto-morrow morning, and your wires have gone right, the chief danger onthis side will be past. There will be little risings of wasps' nests upand down the shop, but we can account for them if this army from thenorth is stopped. "

"I wonder how many of us will see to-morrow morning, " said Georgedismally. He was not afraid of death, but he loved the pleasant world. 

"Good-bye, " said Lewis abruptly, holding out his hand. 

The action made George realize for the first time the meaning of hiserrand. 

"But, I say, Lewie, hold on. What the deuce are you going to do?"

"I am dog-tired, " said the impostor. "I must wait here and rest. Ishould only delay you. " And always, as if to belie his fatigue, his eyeswere turning keenly to the north. At any moment while he stood therebandying words there might come the sound of marching, and the van ofthe invaders issue from the defile. 

"But, hang it, you know. I can't allow this. The Khautmi men mayn'treach you in time, and I'm dashed if I am going to leave you here to bechawed up by Marker. You're coming with me. "

"Don't be an ass, " said Lewis kindly. This parting, one in ignorance, the other in too certain knowledge, was very bitter "They can't be herebefore midnight. They were to start at moonrise, and the moon is onlyjust up. You'll be back in heaps of time, and, besides, we'll soon allbe in the same box. "

It was a false card to play, for George grew obstinate at once. "ThenI'm going to be in the same box as you from the beginning. Do youreally think I am going to desert you? Hang it, you're more importantthan Bardur. "

"Oh, for God's sake, listen to reason, " Lewis cried in despair. "Youmust go at once. I can't or I would. It's our only chance. It's ajolly good chance of death anyway, but it's a naked certainty unless youdo this. Think of the women and children and the people at home. Youmay as well talk about letting the whole thing slip and getting back toBardur with safe skins. We must work the telegraph and then try to holdthe road with the Khautmi men, or be cowards for evermore. We'regentlemen, and we are responsible. "

"I didn't mean it that way, " said George dismally. "But I want you tocome with me. I can't bear the thought of your being butchered herealone, supposing the beggars come before we get back. You're sure thereis time?"

"You've three hours before you, but every moment is important. This isthe frontier line, and this fire will do for one of the signals. You'llfind me here. I haven't slept for days. " And he yawned with feigneddrowsiness. 

"Then--good-bye, " said George solemnly, holding out his hand a secondtime. "Remember, I'm devilish anxious about you. It's a pretty hot jobfor us all; but, gad! if we pull through you get the credit. "

Then with a single backward glance he led the way down the narrow track, two mystified servants at his heels. 

Lewis watched him disappear, and then turned sadly to his properbusiness. This was the end of a very old song, and his heart cried outat the thought. He heaped more wood on the blaze from the little pilecollected, and soon a roaring, boisterous fire burned in the glen, whilegiant shadows danced on the sombre hills. Then he rummaged in the tenttill he found the rifles, carefully cleaned and laid aside. He selectedtwo express 400 bores, a Metford express and a smooth-bore Winchesterrepeater. Then he filled his pockets with cartridges, and from a smallbox took a handful for his revolver. All this he did in a sort ofsobbing haste, turning nervous eyes always to the mouth of the caņon. He filled his flask from a case in the tent, and, being still ravenouslyhungry, crammed the remnants of supper into a capacious game-pocket. Then, all preparations being made, he looked for a moment down the roadwhere his best friend had just gone out of his ken for ever. Thethought was so dreary that he did not dare to delay longer, but with abundle of ironmongery below his arms began to scramble up the glen towhere the north star burned between two peaks of hill. 

He did the journey in an hour, for he was in a pitiable state ofanxiety. Every moment he looked to hear the tramp of an army beforehim, and know his errand of no avail. Over the little barrier ridge hescrambled, and then up the straight gully to the little black rift whichwas the gate of an empire. His unquiet mind peopled the wilderness withvoices, but when, breathless and sore, he came into the jaws of thepass, all was still, silent as the grave, save for an eagle whichcroaked from some eyrie in the cliffs. 

CHAPTER XXXI

EVENTS SOUTH OF THE BORDER

Thwaite was finishing a solitary dinner and attempting to find interestin a novel when his butler came with news that the telephone bell wasringing in the gun-room. Thwaite, being tired and cross, told him toanswer it himself, expecting some frivolous message about supplies. Theman returned in a little with word that he could not understand it. Then Thwaite arose, blessing him, and went to see. The telegraph officeproper was on the other side of the river, on the edge of the nativetown, but a telephone had been established to the garrison. 

Thwaite's first impulse was to suspect a gigantic hoax. A scared nativeclerk was trying to tell him a most appalling tale. George had notspared energy in his message, and the Oriental imagination as a mediumhad considerably increased it. The telegrams came in a confused order, hard to piece together, but two facts seemed to stand out from theconfusion. One was that there was an unknown pass in the hills beyondNazri through which danger was expected at any moment that night; theother was that treason was suspected throughout the whole north. Thencame the name of Marker, which gave Thwaite acute uneasiness. Finallycame George's two words of advice--keep strict watch on the native townand hold Bardur in readiness for a siege; and wire the same directionsto Yasin, Gilgit, Chitral, Chilas, and throughout Kashmir and thePunjab. Above all, wire to the chief places on the new Indus Valleyrailway, for in case of success in Bardur, the railway would be thefirst object of the invader. 

Thwaite put down the ear-trumpet, his face very white and perspiring. He looked at his watch; it was just on nine o'clock. The moon hadarisen and the telegram said "moonrise. " He could not doubt thegenuineness of the message when he had heard at the end the namesWinterham and Haystoun. Already Marker might be through the pass, andlittle the Khautmi people could do against him. He must be checked atBardur, though it cost every life in the garrison. Four hours' delaywould arm the north to adequate resistance. 

He telephoned to the telegraph office to shut and lock the doors andadmit no one till word came from him. Then he summoned his Sikhorderly, his English servant, and the native officers of the garrison. He had one detachment of Imperial Service troops officered by Punjabis, and a certain force of Kashmir Sepoys who made ineffective policemen, and as soldiers were worse than useless. And with them he had to defendthe valley, and hold the native town, which might give trouble on hisflank. This was the most vexatious part of the business. If Marker hadorganized the thing, then nothing could be unexpected, and treachery wassure to be thick around them. 

The men came, saluted, and waited in silence. Thwaite sat down at atable and pulled a sheaf of telegraph forms to pieces. First he wiredto Ladcock at Gilgit, beseeching reinforcements. From Bardur to thesouth there is only one choice of ways--by Yasin and Yagistan to theIndus Valley, or by Gilgit and South Kashmir. Once beyond Gilgit therewas small hope of checking an advance, but in case the shorter way tothe Indus by the Astor Valley was tried there might be hope of a delay. So he besought Ladcock to post men on the Mazeno Pass if the time wasgiven him. Then he sent a like message to Yasin, though on the highpasses and the unsettled country there was small chance of the wiresremaining uncut. A force in Yasin might take on the flank any invasionfrom Afghanistan and in any case command the Chitral district. Thencame a series of frantic wires at random--to Rawal Pindi, to the Punjabicentres, to South Kashmir. He had small confidence in these messages. If the local risings were serious, as he believed them to be, they wouldbe too late, and in any case they were beyond the country wherestrategical points were of advantage against an invader. There remainedthe stations on the Indus Valley railway, which must bethe earliest point of attack. The terminus at Boonji was held by acertain Jackson, a wise man who inspired terror in a mixed force ofirregulars, Afridis, Pathans, Punjabis, Swats, and a dozen othervarieties of tribesmen. To him he sent the most lengthy and urgentmessages, for he held the key of a great telegraphic system with whichhe might awake Abbotabad and the Punjab. Then, perspiring with heat andanxiety, he gave the bundle into the hands of his English servant, andtold off an officer and twenty men to hold the telegraph office. A bluelight was to be lit in the window if the native town should provetroublesome and reinforcements be needed. 

Soon the force of the garrison was assembled in the yard, all but a fewwho had been sent on messages to the more isolated houses of the Englishresidents. Thwaite addressed them briefly: "Men, there's the devil'sown sweet row up the north, and it's moving down to us. This very nightwe may have to fight. And, remember, it's not the old game with thehillmen, but an army of white men, servants of the Tsar, come to fightthe servants of the Empress. Therefore, it is your duty to kill themall like locusts, else they will swallow up you and your cattle and yourwives and your children, and, speaking generally, the whole bally show. We may be killed, but if we keep them back even for a little God willbless us. So be steady at your posts. "

The garrison was soon dispersed, the guns in readiness, pointing up thevalley. It was ten o'clock by Thwaite's watch ere the last click of theloaders told that Bardur was awaiting an enemy. The town behind was inan uproar, men clamouring at the gates, and seeking passports to flee tothe south. Chinese and Turcoman traders from Leh and Lhassa, Yarkandand Bokhara, with scared faces, were getting their goods together andinvoking their mysterious gods. Logan, who had returned from Gilgitthat very day, rode breathless into the yard, clamouring for Thwaite. He received the tale in half a dozen sentences, whistled, and turned togo, for he had his own work to do. One question he asked:

"Who sent the telegrams?"

"Haystoun and Winterham. "

"Then they're alone at Nazri?"

"Except for the Khautmi men. "

"Will they try to hold it?"

"I should think so. They're all sportsmen. Gad, there won't be a soulleft alive. "

Logan galloped off with a long face. It would be a great ending, butwhat a waste of heroic stuff! And as he remembered Lewis's frankgood-fellowship he shut his lips, as if in pain. 

The telegrams were sent, and reply messages began to pour in, which keptone man at the end of the telephone. About half-past ten a blue lightburned in the window across the river. There seemed something to do inthe native town of narrow streets and evil-smelling lanes, for the soundof shouting and desultory firing rose above the stir of the fort. Thetelegraph office abutted on the far end of the bridge, and Thwaite hadtaken the precaution of bidding the native officer he had sent acrosskeep his men posted around the end of the passage. Now he himself tookthirty men, for the native town was the most dangerous point he had tofear. The wires must not be cut till the last moment, and, as theypassed over the bridge and then through the English quarter, there wassmall danger if the office was held. He found, as he expected, that theplace was being maintained against considerable odds. A huge mixedcrowd, drawn in the main from the navvies who had been employed on thenew road, armed with knives and a few rifles, and encouraged by certainwild, dancing figures which had the look of priests, was surging aroundthe gate. The fighting stuff was Afridi or Chitrali, but there wasabundance of yelling from this rabble of fakirs and beggars whoaccompanied them. Order there was none, and it was clear to Thwaitethat this rising had been arranged for but not organized. His men hadsmall difficulty in forcing a way to the office, where they served tocomplete the cordon of defence and the garrison of the bridge-end. Twomen had been killed and some half-dozen of the rioters. He pushed intothe building, and found a terrified Kashmir clerk sternly watched by hisservant and the Sikh orderly. The man, with tears streaming down hisface, was attempting to read the messages which the wires brought. 

Thwaite picked up and read the latest, which was a scrawl in quaveringcharacters over three telegraph forms. It was from Ladcock at Gilgit, saying that he was having a row of his own with the navvies there, andthat he could send no reinforcements at present. If he quieted thetrouble in time he would try and hold the Mazeno Pass, and meanwhile hehad done his best to wake the Punjab. As the wires would be probablycut within the next hour there would be no more communications, but hebesought Thwaite to keep the invader in the passes, as the whole southcountry was a magazine waiting for a spark to explode. The message ranin short violent words, and Thwaite had a vision of Ladcock, short, ruddy, and utterly out of temper, stirred up from his easy life to holda frontier. 

There was no word from Yasin, as indeed he had expected, for the tribeson the highlands about Hunza and Punial were the most disaffected on theBorder, and doubtless the first to be tampered with. Probably his ownmessage had never gone, and he could only pray that the men there mightby the grace of God have eyes in their heads to read the signs of thetimes. There was a brief word from Jackson at Boonji. There attackshad been made on the terminus and the engine-sheds since sunset, whichhis men had luckily had time to repulse. A large amount ofrolling-stock was lying there, as five freight trains had brought upmaterial for the new bridge the day before. Of this the enemy hadprobably had word. Anyhow, he hoped to quiet all local disturbances, and he would undertake to see that every station on the line was warned. He would receive reinforcements from Abbotabad by the afternoon of thenext day; if Bardur and Gilgit, or Yasin as it might be, could delay theattack till then everything might be safe--unless, indeed, the wholenexus of hill-tribes rose as one man. In which case there would be thedevil to pay, and he had no advice to give. 

Thwaite read and laughed grimly. It was not a question of a day'sdelay, but of an hour's, and the hill-tribes, if he judged Marker'scleverness rightly, would act just as Jackson feared. The business hadbegun among the navvies at Bardur and Gilgit and Boonji. In a littlethey would have news of real tribal war--Hunzas, Pathans, Chitralis, Punialis, and Chils, tribes whom England had fought a dozen times beforeand knew the mettle of; now would be the time for their innings. Wellsupplied with money and arms--this would have been part of Marker'sbusiness--they would be the forerunners of the great army. First savagewar, then scientific annihilation by civilized hands--a sweet prospectfor a peaceful man in the prime of life!

He returned to the fort to find all quiet and in order. It commandedthe north road, but though the eye might weary itself with looking onthe moonlit sandy valley and the opaque blue hills, there was no sightor sound of men. The stars were burning hard and cold in the vault ofsky, and looking down somewhere on the march of an army. It was nowclose on midnight; in five hours dawn would break in the east and thenight of attack would be gone. But death waited between this midnighthour and the morning. What were Haystoun and the men from Khautmidoing? Fighting or beyond all fighting? Well, he would soon know. Hewas not afraid, but this cursed waiting took the heart out of a man!And he looked at his watch and found it half-past twelve. 

At Yasin there was the most severe fighting. It lasted for three days, and in effect amounted to a little tribal war. A man called Mackintoshcommanded, and he had the advantage of having regulars with him, Gurkhasfor the most part, who were old campaigners. The place had seemedunquiet for some days, and certain precautions had been taken, so thatwhen the rioting broke out at sunset it was easy to get the town undersubjection and prepare for external attack. The Chiling Pass intoChitral had given trouble of old, but Mackintosh was scarcely preparedfor the systematic assaults of Punialis and Tangiris from the east andsouth. Having always been famous as an alarmist he put the rightinterpretation on the business, and settled down to what he half hoped, half feared, might be a great frontier war. The place was strong onlyon the north side, and the defence was as much a question of engineeringas of war. His Sepoys toiled gallantly at the incomplete defences, while the rest fought hand to hand--bayonet against knife, Metfordagainst Enfield--to cover their labour. He lost many men, but on theevening of the next day he had the satisfaction of seeing thefortifications complete, and he awaited a siege with equanimity, as hewas well victualled. 

On the second night the enemy again attacked, but the moon was bright, and they were no match for his sharpshooters. About two in the morningthey fell back, and for the next day it looked as if they proposed toinvest the garrison. But by the third evening they began to melt away, taking with them such small plunder as they had won. Mackintosh, whowas a man of enterprise, told off a detachment for pursuit, and cursedbitterly the fate which had broken his ankle with a rifle-bullet. 

In the south along the railway the warnings came in good time. At RawalPindi there was some small difficulty with native officials, a largebody of whom seemed to have unaccountably disappeared. This delayed forsome time the sending of a freight-train to Abbotabad, but by and bysubstitutes were found, and the works left under guard. The telegram toPeshawur found things in readiness there, for memories of old troublestill linger, and people sleep lightly on that frontier. Word came ofnative riots in the south, at Lahore and Amritsar, and the line of townswhich mark the way to Delhi. In some places extraordinary accidentswere reported. Certain officers had gone off on holiday and had notreturned; odd and unintelligible commands had come to perplex the mindsof others; whole camps were reported sick where sickness was leastexpected. A little rising of certain obscure rivers had broken up animportant highway by destroying all the bridges save the one whichcarried the railway. The whole north was on the brink of a suddendisorganization, but the brink had still to be passed. It lay with itsmasters to avert calamity; and its masters, going about with haggardfaces, prayed for daylight and a few hours to prepare. 

George had sent his men to Khautmi before he entered the telegraph hut, and he followed himself in twenty minutes. Somewhere upon the hill-roadhe met St. John with a dozen men, who abused him roundly and besoughtdetails. 

"Are you sure?" he cried. "For God's sake, say you're mistaken. For, if you're not, upon my soul it's the last hour for all of us. "

George was in little mood for jest. He told Lewis's tale in a fewwords. 

"A pass beyond Nazri, " the man cried. "Why, I was there shooting bucklast week. Up the nullah and over the ridge, and then a cleft at thetop of the next valley? Does he say there's a pass there? Maybe, butI'll be hanged if an army could get through. If we get there we canhold it. "

"We haven't time. They may be here at any moment. Send men to Forzaand get them to light the fires. Oh, for God's sake, be quick! I'veleft Haystoun down there. The obstinate beggar was too tired to move. "

Over all the twenty odd miles between Forza and Khautmi there is a chainof fires which can be used for signals in the Border wars. On thisnight Khautmi was to take the west side of the Nazri gully and Forza theeast, and the two quickest runners in the place were sent off to Andoverwith the news. He was to come towards them, leaving men at thedifferent signal-posts in case of scattered assaults, and if he came intime the two forces would join in holding the Nazri pass. But shouldthe invader come before, then it fell on the Khautmi men to stand alone. It was a smooth green hollow in the stony hills, some hundred yardswide, and at the most they might hope to make a fight of thirty minutes. St. John and George, with their men, ran down the stony road till thesweat dripped from their brows, though the night was chilly. Mitchinsonwas to follow with the rest and light the fires; meantime, they must getto Nazri, in case the march should forestall them. St. John wascursing his ill-luck. Two hours earlier and they might have held thedistant cleft in the hills, and, if they were doomed to perish, haveperished to some purpose. But the holding of the easy Nazri pass wassheer idle mania, and yet it was the only chance of gaining some paltryminutes. As for George, he had forgotten his vexatious. His oneanxiety was for Lewis; that he should be in time to have his friend athis side. And when at last they came down on the pass and saw thecamp-fire blazing fiercely and no trace of the enemy, he experienced asense of vast relief. Lewis was making himself comfortable, cool beggarthat he was, and now was probably sleeping. He should be left alone; sohe persuaded St. John that the best point to take their stand on was ona shoulder of hill beyond the fire. It gave him honest pleasure tothink that at last he had stolen a march on his friend. He should atleast have his sleep in peace before the inevitable end. 

He looked at his watch; it was almost half-past eleven. 

"Haystoun said they'd be here at midnight, " he whispered to hiscompanion. "We haven't long. When do you suppose Andover will come?"

"Not for an hour and a half at the earliest. Afraid this is going to beour own private show. Where's Haystoun?"

George nodded back to the fire in the hollow, and the tent beside it. "There, I expect, sleeping. He's dog-tired, and he always was a verycool hand in a row. He'll be wakened soon enough, poor chap. "

"You're sure he can't tell us anything?"

"Nothing. He told me all. Better let him be. " Mitchinson came up withthe rearguard. Living all but alone in the wilds had made him a silentman compared to whom the taciturn St. John was garrulous. He nodded toGeorge and sat down. 

"How many are we?" George asked. 

"Forty-three, counting the three of us. Not enough for a good stand. Wonder how it'll turn out. Never had to do such a thing before. "

St. John, whose soul longed for Maxims, posted his men as best hecould. There was no time to throw up earthworks, but a rough cairn ofstone which stood in the middle of the hollow gave at least a centralrallying-ground. Then they waited, watching the fleecy night vapoursblow across the peaks and straining their ears for the first sound ofmen. 

George grew impatient. "It can't be more than five miles to the pass. Shouldn't some of us try to get there? It would make all thedifference. "

St. John declined sharply. "We've taken our place and we must stick toit. We can't afford to straggle. Hullo! it's just on twelve. Thwaitehas had three hours to prepare, and he's bound to have wakened thesouth. I fancy the business won't quite come off this time. "

Suddenly in the chilly silence there rose something like the faint anddistant sound of rifles. It was no more than the sound of stonedropping on a rock ledge, for, still and clear and cold though the nightwas, the narrowness of the valley and the height of the cliffs dulledall distant sounds. But each man had the ear of the old hunter, andwaited with head bent forward. 

Again the drip-drip; then a scattering noise as when one lets peas fallon the floor. 

"God! That's carbines. Who the devil are they fighting with?"Mitchinson's eye had lost its lethargy. His scraggy neck was cranedforward, and his grim mouth had relaxed into a grimmer smile. 

"It's them, sure enough, " said St. John, and spoke something to hisservant. 

"I'm going forward, " said George. "It may be somebody else making astand, and we're bound to help. "

"You're bound not to be an ass, " said St. John. "Who in the Lord'sname could it be? It may be the Badas polishing off some hereditaryfoes, and it may be Marker getting rid of some wandering hillmen. Man, we're miles beyond the pale. Who's to make a stand but ourselves?"

Again came the patter of little sounds, and then a long calm. 

"They're through now, " said St. John. "The next thing to listen for isthe sound of their feet. When that comes I pass the word along. We'reall safe for heaven, so keep your minds easy. "

But the sound of feet was long in coming. Only the soft night airs, andat rare intervals an eagle's cry, or the bleat of a doe from the valleybottom. The first half-hour of waiting was a cruel strain. In suchmoments a man's sins rise up large before him. When his future life isnarrowed down to an hour's compass, he sees with cruel distinctness thefollies of his past. A thousand things he had done or left undoneloomed on George's mental horizon. His slackness, his self-indulgence, his unkindness--he went over the whole innocent tale of his sins. Tothe happy man who lives in the open and meets the world with a squarefront this forced final hour of introspection has peculiar terrors. Meantime Lewis was sleeping peacefully in the tent by the still cheerfulfire. Thank God, he was spared this hideous waiting!

About two Andover turned up with fifteen men, hot and desperate. Helistened to St. John's story in silence. 

"Thank God, I'm in time. Who found out this? Haystoun? Good man, Lewis! I wonder who has been firing out there. They can't have beenstopped? It's getting devilish late for them anyhow, and I believethere's a little hope. It would be too risky to leave this pass, but Ivote we send a scout. "

A man was chosen and dispatched. Two hours later he returned to themystified watchers at Nazri. He had been on the hill-shoulder andlooked into the cleft. There was no sign of men there, but he had heardthe sound of men, though where he could not tell. Far down the cleftthere was a gleam of fire, but no man near it. 

"That's a Bada dodge, " said Andover promptly. "Now I wonder if Markertrusted too much to these gentry, and they have done us the excellentservice of misleading him. They hate us like hell, and they'd selltheir souls any day for a dozen cartridges; so it can't have been doneon purpose. Seems to me there has been a slip in his plans somewhere. "

But the sound of voices! The man was questioned closely, and he wasstrong on its truth. He was a hillman from the west of the Khyber, andhe swore that he knew the sound of human speech in the hills many milesoff, though he could not distinguish the words. 

"In thirty minutes it will be morning, " said George. "Lord, such anight, and Lewis to have missed it all!" His spirits were rising, and helit a pipe. The north was safe whatever happened, and, as the inertnessof midnight passed off, he felt satisfaction in any prospect, howeverhazardous. He sat down beneath a boulder and smoked, while Andovertalked with the others. They were the frontier soldiers, and this wastheir profession; he was the amateur to whom technicalities wereunmeaning. 

Suddenly he sprang up and touched St. John on the shoulder. A greatchill seemed to have passed over the world, and on the hill-tops therewas a faint light. Both men looked to the east, and there, beyond theForza hills, was the red foreglow spreading over the grey. It was dawn, and with the dawn came safety. The fires had burned low, and thevagrant morning winds were beginning to scatter the white ashes. Nowwas the hour for bravado, since the time for silence had gone. St. John gave the word, and it was passed like a roll-call to left andright, the farthest man shouting it along the ribs of mountain to thenext watch-fire. The air had grown clear and thin, and far off the dimrepetition was heard, which told of sentries at their place, and theline of posts which rimmed the frontier. 

Mitchinson moistened his dry lips and filled his lungs with the cold, fresh air. "That, " he said slowly, "is the morning report of the lastoutpost of the Empire, and by the grace of God it's 'All's well. '"

CHAPTER XXXII

THE BLESSING OF GAD

"Gad--a troop shall overcome him, but he shall overcome at the last. "

Lewis peered into the gorge and saw only a thin darkness. The highwalls made pits of shade at the foot, but above there was a misty columnof light which showed the spectres of rock and bush in the nullahbeyond. It was all but dark, and the stars were coming out like thelights on a sea-wall, hard and cold and gleaming. Just in the throat ofthe pass a huge boulder had fallen and left a passage not two yardswide. Beyond there was a sharp descent of a dozen feet to the gravelledbottom which fell away in easier stages to the other watershed. Herewas a place made by nature for his plans. With immense pains he rolledthe biggest stones he could move to the passage, so that they werepoised above the slope. He tried the great boulder, too, with hisshoulders, and it seemed to quiver. In the last resort this mass ofrock might be sent crashing down the incline, and by the blessing of Godit should account for its man. 

He brought his rifles forward to the stones, loaded them and felt thecartridges easy in his pocket. They were for the thirty-yards range;his pistol would be kept for closer quarters. He tried one after theother, cuddling the stocks to his cheek. They were all dear-lovedweapons, used in deer-stalking at home and on many a wilder beat. Heknew the tricks of each, and he had little pet devices laughed at by hisfriends. This one had clattered down fifty feet of rock in Ross-shireas the scars on the stock bore witness, and another had his initialsburned in the wood, the relic of a winter's night in a Finnish camp. Athousand old pleasant memories came back to him, the sights and scentsand sounds of forgotten places, the zest of toil and escapade, the joyof food and warmth and rest. Well! he had lived, had tasted to thefull the joys of the old earth, the kindly mother of her children. Hehad faced death thoughtlessly many times, and now the Ancient Enemy wason his heels and he was waiting to give him greeting. A phrase ran inhis head, some trophy from his aimless wanderings among books, whichspoke of death coming easily to one "who has walked steadfastly in thedirection of his dreams. " It was a comforting thought to a creature ofmoods and fancies. He had failed, doubtless, but he had ever kept someselect fanciful aim unforgotten. In all his weakness he had neverbetrayed this ultimate Desire of the Heart. 

Some few feet up the cliff was a little thicket of withered thorns. Theair was chilly and the cleft was growing very black. Why should not hemake a fire behind the great boulder? He gathered some armfuls andheaped them in a space of dry sand. They were a little wet, so theyburned slowly with a great smoke, which the rising night wind blewbehind him. He was still hungry, so he ate the food he had brought inhis pockets; and then he lit his pipe. How oddly the tobacco tasted inthis moment of high excitement! It was as if the essence of all thepipes he had ever smoked was concentrated into this last one. The smokeblew back, and as he sniffed its old homely fragrance he seemed to feelthe smell of peat and heather, of drenched homespun in the snowy bogs, and the glory of a bright wood fire and the moorland cottage. In asecond his thoughts were many thousand miles away. The night windcooled his brow, and he looked into the dark gap and saw his own past. 

The first picture was a cold place on a low western island. Snow wasdrifting sparsely, and a dull grey Atlantic swell was grumbling on thereefs. He was crouching among the withered rushes, where seaweed andshells had been blown, and snow lay in dirty patches. He felt the thickcollar of his shooting-coat tight about his neck, while the Decemberevening grew darker and colder. A gillie, who had no English, was lyingat his right hand, and far out at sea a string of squattering geese wereslowly drifting shorewards with the wind. He saw the scene clear inevery line, and he remembered the moment as if it had been yesterday, Ithad been one of his periods of great exultation. He had just leftOxford, and had fled northward after some weeks in Paris to wash out thetaste of civilization from his mouth among the island north-westers. Hehad had a great day among the woodcock, and now was finishing with astalk after wild geese. He was furiously hungry, chilled and soaked tothe bone, but riotously happy. His future seemed to stretch before him, a brighter continuation of a bright past, a time for high achievement, bold work, and yet no surcease of pleasure. He had been master ofhimself in that hour, his body firm and strong, his soul clear, his minda tempered weapon awaiting his hands. 

And then the scene changed to a June evening in his own countryside. Hewas deep in the very heart of the hills beside a little loch, whoseclear waves lapped on beaches of milky sand, it was just on twilight, and an infinite sighing of soft winds was around him, a far-awayineffable brightness of sunset, and the good scents of dusk among thymeand heather. He had fished all the afternoon, and his catch lay on thebent beside him. He was to sleep the night in his plaid, and already afire of heather-roots behind him was prepared for supper. He had beenfor a swim, and his hair was still wet on his forehead. Just across aconical hill rose into the golden air, the highest hill in all thecountryside, but here but a little thing, for the loch was as high asmany a hill-top. Just on its face was a scaur, and there a raven--aspeck--was wheeling slowly. Among the little islands broods of mallardwere swimming, and trout in a bay were splashing with wide circles. Thewhole place had seemed caught up into an ecstasy, a riot of gold andcrimson and far-off haunting shades and scents and voices. And yet itwas no wild spectacle; it was the delicate comfort of it all which hadcharmed him. Life seemed one glorious holiday, the world a garden ofthe gods. There was his home across the hills, with its cool chambers, its books and pictures, its gardens and memories. There were hisfriends up and down the earth. There was the earth itself waiting forhis conquest. And, meantime, there was this airy land around him, hisown by the earliest form of occupation. 

The fire died down to embers and a sudden scattering of ashes woke himout of his dreaming. The old Scots land was many thousand miles away. His past was wiped out behind him. He was alone in a very strangeplace, cut off by a great gulf from youth and home and pleasure. For aninstant the extreme loneliness of an exile's death smote him, but thenext second he comforted himself. The heritage of his land and hispeople was his in this ultimate moment a hundredfold more than ever. The sounding tale of his people's wars--one against a host, a foray inthe mist, a last stand among the mountain snows--sang in his heart likea tune. The fierce, northern exultation, which glories in hardships andthe forlorn, came upon him with such keenness and delight that, as helooked into the night and the black unknown, he felt the joy of agreater kinship. He was kin to men lordlier than himself, thetrue-hearted who had ridden the King's path and trampled a little worldunder foot. To the old fighters in the Border wars, the religionists ofthe South, the Highland gentlemen of the Cause, he cried greeting overthe abyss of time. He had lost no inch of his inheritance. Where, indeed, was the true Scotland? Not in the little barren acres he hadleft, the few thousands of city-folk, or the contentions of unlovelycreeds and vain philosophies. The elect of his race had ever been thewanderers. No more than Hellas had his land a paltry local unity. Wherever the English flag was planted anew, wherever men did their dutyfaithfully and without hope of little reward--there was the fatherlandof the true patriot. 

The time was passing, and still the world was quiet. The hour must beclose on midnight, and still there was no sign of men. For the firsttime he dared to hope for success. Before, an hour's delay was all thathe had sought. To give the north time for a little preparation, to makedefence possible, had been his aim; now with the delay he seemed to seea chance for victory. Bardur would be alarmed hours ago; men would beon the watch all over Kashmir and the Punjab; the railways would beguarded. The invader would find at the least no easy conquest. Whenthey had trodden his life out in the defile they would find stronger mento bar their path, and he would not have died in vain. It was a slendersatisfaction for vanity, for what share would he have in the defence?Unknown, unwept, he would perish utterly, and to others would be theglory. He did not care, nay, he rejoiced in the brave obscurity. Hehad never sought so vulgar a thing as fame. He was going out of lifelike a snuffed candle. George, if George survived, would know nothingof his death. He was miles beyond the frontier, and if George, aftermonths of war, should make his way to this fatal cleft, what trace wouldhe find of him? And all his friends, Wratislaw, Arthur Mordaunt, thefolk of Glenavelin--no word would ever come to them to tell them of hisend. 

But Alice--and in one wave there returned to him the story which he hadstriven to put out of his heart. She had known him in his weakness, butshe would never think of him in his strength. The whimsical fatepleased him. The last meeting on that grey autumn afternoon at theBroken Bridge had heartened him for his travellings. It had been acompact between them; and now he was redeeming the promise of the tryst. And she would never know it, would only know that somewhere and somehowhe had ceased to struggle with an inborn weakness. Well-a-day! It wasno world of rounded corners and complete achievements. It was enough ifa hint, a striving, a beginning were found in the scheme of man'sfrailty. He had no clear-cut conception of a future-that was the happylot of the strong-hearted--but he had a generous intolerance of littlesuccess. He did not ask rewards, but he prayed for the hope of a goodbeginning or a gallant failure. The odd romance which lies in thewanderer's brain welcomed the paradox. Alice and her bright hairfloated dim on the horizon of his vision, something exquisite and dear, a memory, a voice, a note of tenderness in this last exhilaration. Asentimental passion was beyond him; he was too critical of folly toworship any lost lady; and he had no love for vain reminiscences. Butthe girl had become the embodied type of the past. A year ago he hadnot seen her, now she was home and childhood and friends to him. For amoment there was the old heart-hunger, but the pain had gone. Theineffectual longing which had galled him had perished at the advent ofhis new strength. 

For in this ultimate moment he at last seemed to have come to his own. The vulgar little fears, which, like foxes, gnaw at the roots of theheart, had gone, even the greater perils of faint hope and a haltingenergy. The half-hearted had become the stout-hearted. The resistlessvigour of the strong and the simple was his. He stood in the dark gullypeering into the night, his muscles stiff from heel to neck. Theweariness of the day had gone: only the wound in his ear, got the daybefore, had begun to bleed afresh. He wiped the blood away with hishandkerchief, and laughed at the thought of this little care. In a fewminutes he would be facing death, and now he was staunching a pin-prick. 

He wondered idly how soon death would come. It would be speedy, atleast, and final. And then the glory of the utter loss. His boneswhitening among the stones, the suns of summer beating on them and thewinter snowdrifts decently covering them with a white sepulchre. No mancould seek a lordlier burial. It was the death he had always craved. From murder, fire, and sudden death, why should we call on the Lord todeliver us? A broken neck in a hunting-field, a slip on rockymountains, a wounded animal at bay--such was the environment of deathfor which he had ever prayed. But this--this was beyond his dreams. 

And with it all a great humility fell upon him. His battles were allunfought. His life had been careless and gay; and the noblecommonplaces of faith and duty had been things of small meaning. He hadlived within the confines of a little aristocracy of birth and wealthand talent, and the great melancholy world scourged by the winds of Godhad seemed to him but a phrase of rhetoric. His creeds and hisarguments seemed meaningless now in this solemn hour; the truth had beenhis no more than his crude opponent's! Had he his days to live overagain he would look on the world with different eyes. No man any moreshould call him a dreamer. It pleased him to think that, half-heartedand sceptical as he had been, a humorist, a laughing philosopher, he wasnow dying for one of the catchwords of the crowd. He had returned tothe homely paths of the commonplace, and young, unformed, untried, hewas caught up by kind fate to the place of the wise and the heroic. 

Suddenly on his thoughts there broke in a dull tread of men, a sound ofslipping stones and feet upon dry gravel. He broke into the cold sweatof tense nerves, and waited, half hidden, with his rifle ready. Thencame the light of dull lanterns which showed a thin, endless columnbeneath the rock walls. They advanced with wonderful quietness, thesound of feet broken only by a soft word of command. He calculated thedistance--now it was three hundred yards, now two, now a bare eighty. At fifty his rifle flew to his shoulder and he fired. His nerves werebad, for one bullet clicked on the rock, while the second took the dusta yard before the enemy's feet. Instantly there was a halt and thesound of speech. 

The failure had steadied him. The second pair of shots killed theirmen. He heard the quick cry of pain and shivered. He was new to thiswork and the cry hurt him. But he picked up his express and firedagain, and again there was a cry and a fall. Then he heard a word ofcommand and the sound of men creeping in the side of the nullah. Eyeand ear were marvelously acute at the moment, for he picked out thescouts and killed them. Then he loaded his rifles and waited. 

He saw a man in the half-light not five yards below him. He fired andthe man dropped, but he had used his rifle and the great spattering ofearth showed his whereabouts. Now was the time for keen eye and steadyarm. The enemy had halted thirty yards off and beneath the slope therewas a patch of darkness. He kept one eye on this, for it might containa man. He fixed his attention on a ray of moonlight which fell acrossthe floor of the gully. When a man crept past this he shot, and herarely failed. 

Then a command was given and the column came forward at the double. Hefired two shots, but the advance continued. They passed the ray oflight and he saw the whites of their eyes and the gleam of teeth andsteel. They paused a second to fire a volley, and a storm of shotrattled about him. He had stepped back into his shelter, and wasunscathed, but when he looked out he saw the enemy at the foot of theslope. His weapons were all loaded except the express, and in mad hastehe sent shot after shot into the ranks. The fire halted them, and for asecond they were on the edge of a panic. This unknown destructioncoming out of the darkness was terrifying to the stoutest hearts. Allthe while there was wrath behind them. This stopping of the advancecolumn was throwing the whole force into confusion. Angry messages cameup from the centre, and distracted officers cursed their native guides. 

Meanwhile Lewis was something wholly unlike himself, a maddened creaturewith every sense on the alert, drinking in the glory of the fight. Hehusbanded the chances of his life with generous parsimony. Every chancemeant some minutes' delay and every delay a new link of safety for thenorth. His cartridges were getting near an end, but there stillremained the stones and his pistol and the power of his arm hand tohand. 

Suddenly came a second volley which all but killed him, bullets glancingon all sides of him and scraping the rocks with a horrid message ofdeath. Then on the heels of it came a charge up the slope. The turnhad come for the last expedient. He rushed to the stone and with thestrength of madness rooted it from its foundations. It wavered for asecond, and then with a cloud of earth and gravel it plunged downwards. A second and it had ploughed its way with a sickening grinding soundinto the ranks of the men below. There was one wild scream of terror, and then a retreat, a flight, almost a panic. 

Down in the hollow was a babel of sound, men yelping with fright, officers calming and cursing them, and the shouting of the forcesbehind. For Lewis the last moment was approaching. The neck of thepass was now bare and wide and half of the slope was gone. He had losthis weapons in the fall, all but his express, and the loosening of thestone had crushed his foot so that he could scarcely stand. Then orderseemed, to be restored, for another volley rang out, which passed overhis head as he crouched on the ground. The enemy were advancing slowly, resolutely. He knew that now there was something different in theirtread. 

He was calm and quiet. The mad exhilaration was ebbing and he wascalculating chances as dispassionately as a scientist in his study. Twoshots, the six chambers of his pistol, and then he would be ground topowder. The moon rode over the top of the cleft and a sudden wave oflight fell on the slope, the writhing dead, and below, the advancingcolumn. It gave him a chance for fair shooting, and he did not miss. But the men were maddened with anger and taunts, and they would havecharged a battery. They came up on the slope with a fierce rush, cursing in gutturals. He slipped behind the old friendly jag of rockand waited till they were abreast. Then began a strange pistolpractice. Crouching in the darkness he selected his men and shot them, making no mistake. The front ranks of the column turned to the rightand lunged with their bayonets into the gloom. But the man knew hispurpose. He climbed farther back till he was above their heads, lookingdown on ranks of white inhuman faces mad with slaughter and the couragewhich is next door to fear. They were still advancing, but with anuncertain air. He saw his chance and took it. Crying out he knew notwhat, he leapt among them with clutched rifle, striking madly to rightand left. There was a roar of fright, and for a moment a space wascleared around him. He fought like a maniac, stumbling with his crushedfoot and leaving two men stunned at his feet. But it was only for amoment. A bayonet entered his side and his rifle snapped at the stock. He grappled with the nearest man and pulled him to the ground, for hecould stand no longer. Then there came a wild surge around, a dozenbayonets pierced him, and in the article of death he was conscious of agreat press which ground him into the earth. The next moment the columnwas marching over his body. 

Dawn came with light and sweet airs to the dark cleft in the hills. Just at that moment, when the red east was breaking into spires andclouds of colour, and the little morning winds were beginning to flutteramong the crags, two men were standing in the throat of the pass. Theground about them was ploughed up as if by a battery, the rock seamedand broken, and red stains of blood were on the dry gravel. From thenorth, in the direction of the plain, came the confused sound of an armyin camp. But to the south there was a glimpse through an aperture ofhill of a far side of mountain, and on it a gleam as of fire. 

Marka, clad in the uniform of a captain of Cossacks, looked fiercely athis companion and then at the beacon. 

"Look, " he said, "look and listen!" And sure enough in the morningstillness came the sound as of a watchword cried from post to post. 

"That, " said he, "is the morning signal of an awakened empire and thefinal proof of our failure. "

"It was no fault of mine, " said Fazir Khan sourly. "I did as I wascommanded, and lo! when I come I find an army in confusion and thefrontier guarded. " The chief spoke with composure, but he had in hisheart an uneasy consciousness that he had had some share in thisundoing. 

Marka looked down at a body which lay wrinkled across the path. It wastrodden all but shapeless, the poor face was unrecognizable, the legswere scrawled like a child's letters. Only one hand with a broken goldsignet-ring remained to tell of the poor inmate of the clay. 

The Cossack looked down on the dead with a scowling face. "Cursehim--curse him eternally. Who would have guessed that this fool, thisphrasing fool, would have spoiled our plans? Curse his conscience andhis honour, and God pity him for a fool! I must return to my troops, for this is no place to linger in. " The man saw his work of yearsspoiled in a night, and all by the agency of a single adventurer. Hesaw his career blighted, his reputation gone. It is not to be wonderedat if he was bitter. 

He turned to go, and in leaving pushed the dead man over with his foot. He saw the hand and the broken ring. 

"This thing was once a gentleman, " he said, and he went down the pass. 

But Fazir Khan remained by the body. He remembered his guest of twodays before, and he cursed himself for underrating this wanderingEnglishman. He saw himself in evil case. His chances of spoil andglory had departed. He foresaw expeditions of reprisal, and theBada-Mawidi hunted like partridges upon the mountains. He had staked hisall on a desperate chance, and this one man had been his ruin. For amoment the barbarian came out, and in a sudden ferocity he kicked thedead. 

But as he looked again he was moved to a juster appreciation. 

"This thing was a man, " he said. 

Then stooping he dipped his finger in blood and touched his forehead. "This man, " he said, "was of the race of kings. "