ON THE FIRING LINE

by

Anna Chapin Ray and Hamilton Brock Fuller

CHAPTER ONE

Six feet one in his stockings, broad-shouldered and without an ounceof extra flesh, Harvard Weldon suddenly halted before one of a lineof deck chairs. 

"I usually get what I want, Miss Dent, " he observed suggestively. 

"You are more fortunate than most people. " Her answering tone was dry. 

Most men would have been baffled by her apparent indifference. Not so was Weldon. Secure in the possession of a good tailor andan equally good digestion, he was willing to await the leisurelycourse of events. 

"My doctor always advises mild exercise after lunch, " he continued. 

"You are in the care of a physician?" she queried, with a whimsicalglance up at his brown face and athletic figure. 

"Not just now. I was once, however. " She raised her brows in politeinterrogation. Her involuntary thawing of a moment before had givenplace to absolute conventionality. Weldon smiled to himself, as henoted the change. He had been at sea for three days now, and thosethree days had been chiefly spent in trying to penetrate the socialshell of his next neighbor at table. It was not so much that EthelDent was undeniably pretty as that he had been piqued by her frostyreception of his efforts to supplement the services of a careless waiter. 

Now, uninvited, he dropped into the empty chair next her own. 

"If I may?" he said questioningly, as he raised his cap. "Yes, Ihave had a doctor twice. Once was measles, once a collar bone brokenin football. Both times, I was urged to take a walk after luncheon. Is Miss Arthur--?"

He hesitated for the right word. Still ignoring his obvious hint, Ethel Dent supplied the word, without charity for her lucklesschaperon. "Horridly seasick. " She pointed out to the levelsteely-gray sea. "And on this duck-pond, " she added. 

Her accent was expressive. Weldon laughed. 

"Perhaps she isn't as used to the duck-pond as you are. "

The girl brushed a lock of vivid gold hair from her eyes; then shesat up, to add emphasis to her words. "Miss Arthur has been toAmerica and back seven times and to Australia once, " she saidconclusively. 

"As globe-trotter, or as commercial traveller?"

"Neither. As professional chaperon. When she applied for me, she stated--"The girl caught her breath and stopped short. 

"Well?" he asked encouragingly. She shook her head. Again, for aninstant, Weldon could see the humanity beneath the veneering. Moreover, he liked what he saw. The blue eyes were honest andsteady. One mocking dimple belied the gravity of the firm lips. 

"What did she state?" he asked again. 

"It's not manners to tell tales about one's companion, " she demurred. 

"Not if you spell it with a little c. With a capital, it becomesprofessional, and you can say what you choose. Miss Arthur isa righteous lady; nevertheless, she is a bit professional. And you were saying that the lady stated--"

"That she never had been seasick in her life. "

"Oh. And did she also produce certificates as to her moralcharacter? Or is fibbing merely bad form nowadays?"

With swift inconsequence, the girl shifted to the other side of thediscussion. 

"Of course, this may be a first attack. "

"Of course, " Weldon assented gravely. But again she shifted herground. "Only, " she continued, with her eyes thoughtfully fixed onthe distant, impersonal point where sea and sky met; "only it is alittle strange that, yesterday, I heard her tell the stewardess shenever took beeftea when she was seasick. "

"Oh. " Weldon's eyes joined hers on the sky-line. "I have heard ofsimilar cases before. "

"She offered to come on deck, " Ethel went on quietly. "It wasgenerous of her, for she knew I was left entirely alone. Nevertheless, I persuaded her that she was better off in her berth. "

Leaning back in the chair of the absent invalid, Weldon watched hiscompanion out of the corners of his eyes and rejoiced at the changein her. Even while he rejoiced, he marvelled. A Canadian by birthand education, he had rarely come in contact with English girls. Atfirst, he had been totally at a loss to account for the haughtychill in the manner of this one. Grown accustomed to that, he wasstill more at a loss to account for this sudden awakening intohumanity. He had as yet to learn that two days of having her onlycompanion seasick, coupled with a sparkling sun and a crisp breeze, can rouse even a duenna-led English girl to the point of expressingher opinions pithily and with vigor. 

As the Dunottar Castle had slid away from Southampton, three daysbefore, Weldon had tramped briskly up and down the crowded deck, taking mental note of his companions for the next two weeks. Amongthe caped and capped throng leaning over the rail and staring afterthe receding shore with homesick eyes, he saw little to interesthim. Neither did the shore interest him in the least. His ownpartings had come, two weeks before, when the steam yacht had putback from Sandy Hook. Now, accordingly, he went in search of thedining-room steward to whom he gave much gold and instruction. Thenhe betook himself to his stateroom where his mates were already busysettling their belongings. 

The luncheon hour disclosed the fact that the dining-room stewardhad earned his money and had digested his instruction. A short pauseon the threshold informed Weldon that the Dunottar Castle heldexactly one pretty girl; the steward informed Weldon that the vacantchair beside her was his own. Weldon picked up his napkin with abrief prayer of thanksgiving. What if he was going out to Africa insearch of Boers and glory? There was no especial reason he shouldnot enjoy himself on the way. 

Weldon had gained a wide experience of American girls, well-bred, well-chaperoned, nevertheless they offered possible points ofcontact to the strangers with whom they were thrown. To all seeming, Ethel Dent was as accessible as the outer wall of an ice palace. Beside her decorous ignoring of his existence, Miss Arthur, lean andspectacled and sniffy, appeared to be of maternal kindliness, albeither only advances had been a muffled request for the salt. The nextmorning, Miss Arthur's chair had been empty, and her charge, left toherself, had been more glacially circumspect than ever. Whateverskittish traits the pair might develop, Weldon felt assured thatthey would be solely upon the side of Miss Ophelia Arthur. 

Now, however, he was giving himself praise for his own astutegeneralship. It was no slight matter, at the end of the third day, to find himself sitting next to Miss Dent in the line of steamerchairs and even bending over to pick up the novel she had dropped. In his elation, Weldon neglected to give credit to Miss Arthur whosedigestive woes were the cause of the whole situation. Only the riperChristianity which comes with declining years can make one whollyloyal to a seasick comrade. 

He gave himself yet more praise, next morning at sunrise, when hefound himself pacing the deck at Ethel Dent's side. As a rule, heand his mates rose betimes and, clad in slippers and pajamas, racedup and down the decks to keep their muscles in hard order, beforedescending for the tubbing which is the matin duty of everyself-respecting British subject. This morning, instead of the deserteddecks and the pajama-clad athletes, the passengers were out early tocatch the first glimpse of Madeira, and Weldon, starchy and glowingwith much cold water, was on deck to catch the first glimpse ofEthel. 

Miss Arthur was still invisible, and the girl was discreetly lateabout appearing. The deck was full, when at last she came in sight;and it seemed, to her first glance, that she was the only unattendedperson abroad, that morning. Her chin rose a little aggressively asshe moved forward. Then her eyes lighted. Cap in hand, Weldon stoodin her direct path. 

"Good morning, " he said. "We've just passed the lighthouse and arenearly opposite Canical. If you come over here, you can see it. "

His tone was matter-of-course, yet masterful. At the very beginningof her fourth solitary day, Ethel admitted to herself that it wasgood to have some one take possession of her in this summaryfashion. 

"Is Miss Arthur still unhappy?" he asked, as he swung into step ather side. 

"Yes. She has taken to her hymnal, this morning, in search ofconsolation. I tried to coax her to get up and go ashore; but shesaid there was no use in experiencing the same woe twice. "

"I am afraid I do not quite catch the lady's line of argument, "Weldon remarked doubtfully. 

The girl laughed. Then she decorously checked her laugh andendeavored to turn sympathetic once more. 

"She means to make one prolonged illness. Else she will only recoverin order to fall ill again. " "Oh. " Weldon's tone was still blank. "And shall you go ashore?"

She shook her head. 

"I am sorry. You would find any amount to see. "

"I am sorry, too, " she said frankly. "Still, I don't see how I can, without Miss Arthur. "

His hands in his pockets, Weldon took a dozen steps in doubtfulsilence. 

"I'll tell you what we can do, Miss Dent: Harry Carew, one of thefellows going out with me, had a note of introduction to ColonelScott and his wife. He is the pompous old Englishman across thetable. I'll get Carew to introduce us, and perhaps they will let usgo ashore with them. "

"But are they going?" she asked irresolutely. 

"Surely. We have three hours here. I know Carew's mother well; sheand Mrs. Scott were schoolmates at Madame Prather's in London. "

She looked up with sudden interest. 

"Madame Prather's? That is where I have been, for the past fiveyears. "

"Then we are all right, " Weldon said coolly. "The arrangement ismade. Carew is the only missing link. Excuse me, and I will go insearch of him. "

It was high noon when the Dunottar Castle finally weighed anchor atFunchal and started on her long, unbroken voyage to the southward. Side by side in the stern, Weldon and Ethel looked back at the blueharbor dotted with the myriad little boats, at the quaint townbacked with its amphitheatre of sunlit hills and, poised on thesummit, the church where Nossa Senhora do Monte keeps watch and wardover the town beneath. Ethel's experience was the broader for herhilarious ride in a bullock-drawn palanquin. Weldon's experience wasmore instructive. It taught him that, her hat awry and her yellowhair loosened about her laughing face, Ethel Dent was tenfold moreattractive than when she made her usual decorous entrance to thedining-room. 

Mrs. Scott had been a willing chaperon and an efficient one. Nevertheless, as they stood together in the stern, looking outacross the gold-flecked sea, Weldon felt that he had made a longstride, that morning, towards acquaintance with his companion. And, even now, the voyage was nearly all before them. 

As if in answer to his thoughts, she lifted her eyes to his face. 

"Twelve more days!" she said slowly. 

"Are you sorry?"

She shook her head. 

"Glad and sorry both. I love the sea; but home is at the end of it. "

"You live out there?" he asked. 

She smiled at the question. "Yes, if out there means Cape Town. Atleast, my parents live there. "

"How long have you been in England?" he queried, while, abandoningall pretence of interest in the fast-vanishing town, he turned hisback to the rail in order to face his companion more directly. 

"Always, except for one year, six years ago, and a summer--summer inEngland, I mean--two years later. "

Rather inconsequently, Weldon attacked the side issue suggested byher words. 

"How does it seem to have one's seasons standing on their heads?"

She answered question with question. "Haven't you been out before?"

"No. "

"I supposed you had taken the voyage any number of times. But aboutthe seasons, it doesn't count for much until you come to Christmas. No England-born mortal can hang up his stocking in mid-summerwithout a pang of regretful homesickness. "

Weldon laughed. 

"Do you substitute a refrigerator for a chimney corner?" he asked. "But are you England-born?"

"Yes. My father went out only seven years ago. The 'home' traditionis so strong that I was sent back to school and for a year of sociallife. My little brother goes to Harrow in two years. Even in CapeTown, a few people still hold true to the tradition of the publicschool. "

Weldon nodded assent. 

"We meet it in Canada, now and then; not too often, though. So inreality you are almost as much a stranger to Cape Town as I am. "

"Quite. My father says it is all changed now. It used to be a lazylittle place; now it is pandemonium, soldiers and supplies goingout, time-expired men and invalids coming in. Mr. Weldon--"

His questioning smile answered the pause in her sentence. 

"Well?" he asked, after a prolonged interval. 

Her teeth shut on her lower lip, she stared at the wide blue seawith wide blue eyes. Something in its restless tossing, in thechanging lights that darted back to her from the crests of thewaves, seemed to be holding her in an hypnotic trance. Out of themidst of the trance she spoke again, and it was plain to Weldon, ashe listened to her low, intent voice, that her thoughts were notupon the sea nor yet upon him. 

"It ought to terrify me, " she said. "I mean the war, of course. Iought to dread the going out into the atmosphere of it. I don't. Sometimes I think I must have fighting blood in my veins. Instead ofbeing frightened at what my father writes me, I feel stirred by itall, as if I were ready for anything. I went out to Aldershot, oneday last year; but that was only so many dainty frills, so muchplaying soldier. That's not what I mean at all. " Turning suddenly, she looked up directly into Weldon's dark gray eyes. "One of mycousins wants to be a nurse. She lives at Piquetberg Road, but shehas been visiting friends who live in Natal on the edge of thefighting, where she has seen things as they happen. In her lastletter, she told me that she was only waiting for my uncle'spermission to go out as a nurse. "

"Is that what you would do?"

Her head lifted itself proudly. 

"No. She can take care of the wounded men, if she chooses. For mypart, I'd rather cheer on the men who are starting for the front. IfI could know that one man, one single man, fought the better forhaving known me, I should feel as if I had done my share. "

She spoke with fiery vigor; then her eyes dropped again to thedancing waves. When at length she spoke again, she was once more thelevel-voiced English girl who sat next him at the table. 

"You are going out to Cape Town to stay, Mr. Weldon?" she asked, with an accent so utterly conventional that Weldon almost doubtedhis own ears. 

"To stay until the war ends, " he replied, in an accent asconventional as her own. 

"In Cape Town?" Then she felt her eyes drawn to meet his eyes, as heanswered quietly, --

"I shall do my best to make myself a place in the firing line. "

Again her conventionality vanished, and she gave him her hand, as ifto seal a compact. 

"I hope you will win it and hold it, " she responded slowly. "I canwish you nothing better. "

CHAPTER TWO

A berugged, bedraggled bundle of apologies, Miss Ophelia Arthur layprone in her steamer chair, her cheeks pale, her eyes closed. Herconscience, directed towards the interests of her charge, demandedher presence on deck. Once on deck and apparently on guard, MissArthur limply subsided into a species of coma. Her charge, meanwhile, rosy and alert, sat in the lee of a friendly ventilatingshaft. Beside her, also in the lee of the ventilating shaft, sat Mr. Harvard Weldon. 

The past week had been full of the petty events which make up lifeon shipboard. The trail of smoke from a passing steamer, the firstshoal of flying fish, the inevitable dance, the equally inevitableconcert and, most inevitable of all, the Sabbatic contest betweenthe captain and the fresh-water clergyman who insists upon readingservice: all these are old details, yet ever new. Throughout themall, Weldon had sturdily maintained his place at Ethel's side. Bytacit consent, the girl had been transferred to the motherly care ofMrs. Scott who, after a keen inspection of Weldon, had decided thatit was safe to take upon trust this clean-eyed, long-legged Canadianwho was so obviously well-born and well-bred. 

Now and then Carew joined the group; but the handsome, dashing youngfellow had no mind to play the part of second violin. He would beconcertmaster or nothing. Accordingly, he withdrew to the rivalcorner where a swarthy little French girl maintained her courtwithout help from any apparent chaperonage whatsoever. Left inpossession of the field, Weldon made the most of his chances. Theacknowledged attendant of Ethel, his jovial ministrations overflowedto Mrs. Scott, until the sedate colonel's wife admitted to herselfthat no such pleasant voyage had fallen to her lot since the dayswhen she had started for India on her wedding journey. Weldon hadthe consummate tact to keep the taint of the filial from hischivalry. His attentions to Mrs. Scott and Ethel differed in degree, but not in kind, and Mrs. Scott adored him accordingly. One by one, the languid days dropped into the past. Neptune had duly escortedthem over the Line, to the boredom of the first-class passengers andthe strident mirth of the rest of the ship's colony. Winter wasalready behind them, and the late December days took on more andmore of the guise of summer, as the log marked their passing to thesouthward. To many on board, the idle passage was a winter holiday;but to Weldon and Carew and a dozen more stalwart fellows, thosequiet days were the hush before the breaking of the storm. Home, school, the university were behind them; before them lay the crashof war. And afterwards? Glory, or death. Their healthy, boyishoptimism could see no third alternative. 

For ten long days, Miss Ophelia Arthur lay prone in her berth. Herhymnal and her Imitation lay beside her; but she read less than shepondered, and she invariably pondered with her eyes closed and hermouth ajar. On the eleventh day, however, she gathered herselftogether and went on deck. With anxious care Weldon tucked the rugsabout her elderly frame. Then he exchanged a glance with Ethel andtogether they sought the shelter of the ventilating shaft. 

Nothing shows the temperature more surely than the tint of the graysea. It was a warm gray, that morning, and the bowl-like sky abovewas gray from the horizon far towards the blue zenith. From theother end of the ship, they could hear the plaudits that accompaniedan impromptu athletic tournament; but the inhabitants of the nearestchairs were reading or dozing, and the deck about them was verystill. Only the throbbing of the mighty screw and the hiss of thecleft waves broke the hush. 

Out of the hush, Ethel spoke abruptly. 

"Do you know, Mr. Weldon, you have never told me what brings you outhere. "

He had been sitting, chin on his fists, staring out across the gray, foam-flecked water. Now he looked up at her in surprise. 

"I thought you knew. The war, of course. "

"Yes; but where are you going?"

"To somewhere on the firing line. Beyond that I've not the leastidea. "

"Where is your regiment now?"

"I haven't any. "

She frowned in perplexity. 

"I think I don't quite understand. "

"I mean I haven't enlisted yet. "

"But your commission?" she urged. 

"I have no commission, Miss Dent. "

"Not--any commission!" she said blankly. 

In site of himself, he laughed at her tone. 

"Certainly not. I am going as a soldier. "

She sat staring at him in thoughtful silence. 

"But you are a gentleman, " she said slowly at length. 

Weldon's mouth twitched at the corners. 

"I hope so, " he assented. 

"Then how can you go as soldier, for I suppose you mean private?"

Dictated by generations-old tradition, the question was eloquent. Weldon's one purpose, however, was to combat that tradition; and heanswered calmly, --

"Why not?"

"Because--because it isn't neat, " she responded unexpectedly. 

This time, Weldon laughed outright. Trained in the wider, moreopen-air school of Canadian life, he found her insular point of viewdistinctly comic. 

"I have a portable tub somewhere among my luggage, " he reassuredher. 

She shook her head. 

"No; that's not what I mean. But you won't be thrown with men ofyour own class. The private is a distinct race; you'll find himunbearable, when you are really in close quarters with him. "

Deliberately Weldon rose and stood looking down at her. His lipswere smiling; his eyes were direct and grave. His mother could havetold the girl, just then, that some one had touched him on the raw. 

"Miss Dent, " he asked slowly; "is this the way you cheer on themen?"

She flushed under his rebuke and, for a moment, her blue eyes showedan angry light. 

"I beg your pardon. I was referring to the men whom I am likely toknow. "

"And omitting myself?" he inquired. 

"You are the exception which proves the rule, " she answered a littleshortly. "Of course, I wish you all good; but I don't see how it isto be gained, if you bury yourself in the ranks. "

"It may depend a little upon what you mean by good, " he returned, with a dignity which, notwithstanding her momentary petulance, wonher full respect. "I am not going out in search of the path to ageneralship. Fighting isn't my real profession. "

"Then what are you going for?" she demanded sharply. With noconsciousness of dramatic effect, his eyes turned to the Union Jackfluttering above them. 

"Because I couldn't stay away, " he answered simply. "FromMagersfontein to Nooitdedacht, the pull on me has been growingstronger. I am not needed at home; I can shoot a little and ride agood deal. I am taking out my own horse; I shall draw no pay. I cando no harm; and, somewhere or other, I may do a little good. For therest, I prefer the ranks. It's not always the broadest man who livesentirely with his own class. For a while, I am willing to meet someone outside. As soon as I get to Cape Town, I shall enlist in aregiment of horse, put on the khaki and learn to wind myself up inmy putties. Then it will remain to be seen whether my old friendswill accept Trooper Weldon on their list of acquaintances. "

"One of them will, " the girl said quickly. "If only for the sake ofnovelty, I shall be glad to know a man in the ranks. "

He shook his head. 

"No novelty, Miss Dent. I know any number of fellows who are doingthe same thing. We can't all be officers; a few of us must takeorders. Out in the hunting field, we say it is the thoroughbred dogwho answers to call most quickly. "

She ignored his last words. 

"And you don't even know where you are going?" she asked. "To CapeTown. "

"But after that?"

"To my banker. After that, to the nearest recruiting station. "

"So you'll not stop in Cape Town?"

Weldon's quick ear caught the little note of regret in her voice. 

"Not long. Long enough, however, to pull any latch-string thatoffers itself to me. "

Her eyes dropped to the shining sea. 

"My mother will offer ours to you, " she said quietly. Then sheadded, with a swift flash of merriment, "And you will wish to seeMiss Arthur again. "

Weldon cast a mocking glance over his shoulder at the recumbent, open-mouthed form. 

"Is the lady going to stop long with you?" he queried. 

"Long enough to recover from her invalidism. "

"To judge from her greeny-yellow cast of countenance, that may takesome time. But tell me, Miss Dent, does she always sleep out loudlike this?"

"Not always. It usually comes when she is taking what she callsforty winks. "

"Then may a merciful heaven prevent her from taking eighty, " Weldonobserved piously. "Still, the sleeping cat--"

"Fox, " she corrected him promptly. 

"Fox be it, then. Miss Arthur seems to me to be feline, rather thanvulpine, though. " Bending forward, the girl studied her chaperonthoughtfully. 

"She really isn't so bad, Mr. Weldon. She means well. It is onlythat I don't like tight frizzles and a hymn-book in combination. People should always have one point of absolute worldliness. "

"Aren't fizzles--that is what you called the thatch over hereyebrows; isn't it?--aren't they worldly?"

Ethel Dent laughed with the consciousness of a woman's superiorknowledge. 

"It depends upon the season, " she replied enigmatically, as sherose. 

It was five days later that Ethel closed and locked her steamertrunk. Leaving Miss Arthur to grapple alone with the cabin bags, thegirl went out on deck. Regardless of the glaring sunshine of NewYear morning, groups of people were dotted along the rail, staringup at the flat top and seamy face of cloud-capped Table Mountain. Inthe very midst of a knot of eager, excited men, Weldon was leaningon the rail, talking so earnestly to Carew that he was quiteunconscious of the girl, twenty paces behind him. She hesitated fora moment. Then, as she walked away to the farther end of the deck, she told herself that Weldon was like all other men, regardful ofwomen only when no more vital interest presented itself. Already sheregretted the girlish vanity which had dictated the choice of thegown in which she was to go ashore. For all the young Canadian waslikely to know to the contrary, she might be clad in a calicowrapper and a blanket shawl, rather than the masterpiece of a Londontailor. 

The Dunottar Castle was forging steadily ahead through the bluewaters of Table Bay. Beyond the bay, Cape Town nestled in its bed ofliving green, backed by the sinister face of Table Mountain, andfringed with a thicket of funnels and of raking masts. To the girl, familiar with the harbor when Cape Town had been a peaceful seaport, it seemed that the navies of the world were gathered there beforeher eyes. It seemed to her, too, that the low, squat town neverlooked half so fair as it did now, viewed from a softening distanceand ringed about with its summer setting of verdure. 

Already the docks were in sight and, far to her left at the otherend of the long curve of the water front, her keen eyes could makeout the roof which, six years before, she had learned to call home. She could imagine the stir and excitement in that home: thecontrolled eagerness of her busy father, the gentle flurry of herinvalid mother, and the tempestuous bulletins issued by the smallbrother whose occasional letters, full of incoherent affection andquaint bits of orthography, had added interest to the last years ofher English life. One and all, they were loyally intent upon hercoming. And she, ingrate that she was, could spare thought from thedear home circle to waste it upon the forgetful young Canadian whowas talking horse and politics by the rail. 

She turned sharply, as Weldon's voice fell upon her ears. 

"Happy New Year, Miss Dent! It is an odd wish to be giving, with themercury at ninety. "

With her London gown, she had also donned her London manner, and heranswer was banal. 

"But none the less welcome, for all its being so warm. May I returnit?"

He laughed, like the great, overgrown boy that he so often showedhimself. 

"I decline to take it back. And where have you been, all themorning?"

"Packing my steamer trunk. I have been on deck for nearly an hour, though. "

"I'm sorry I missed so much of the time. I don't see why I didn'tsee you, " he said regretfully. "I was over there by the rail withCarew and a lot of the other fellows, watching the town show up. Itwas mighty interesting, too, this getting one's first glimpse of anew corner of the earth. "

Most men would have seemed penitent over their absorption in otherthings. Weldon merely acknowledged it as a matter of course, andallowed the girl to draw her own conclusions. She drew themaccordingly. At first, they antagonized her. Later on, she admittedtheir justice. Meanwhile, she kept her momentary antagonism quite toherself, as she looked up into the face of her companion, anearnest, manly face, in spite of its boyish outlines. 

"It is hard for me to realize that you are a stranger here, " sheanswered him. "All the way out, you have given the impression ofhaving made the voyage any number of times. "

"In what way?"

"In the way of getting what you wish in an utterly matter-of-coursefashion. " Her laugh belied her London exterior and belonged to thebroad felt hat and the soft blouse of the past two weeks. 

"That is the one compliment I most value, Miss Dent. "

"See that you continue to live up to it, Mr. Weldon. "

For an instant, they faced each other, a merry boy and girl. ThenWeldon's lips straightened resolutely, and he bowed. 

"I will do my best, " he answered slowly. 

Half an hour later, he joined her at the gangway and took forciblepossession of her hand luggage. 

"Surely, " he said, in answer to her objections; "you will let me doyou this one last little service. "

"Not if you call it that, " she said quietly. "Our acquaintance isonly just beginning. If you are to be in Cape Town for a day or two, come and let my mother thank you for your kindness to me, all theway out. "

He took her hand, outstretched in farewell. 

"Even if I come as Trooper Weldon?" he asked with a smile. 

And she answered, with a prophecy of whose truth she was as yet inignorance, --

"Trooper Weldon will always be a welcome guest in our home. "

Then her father came to claim her. When she emerged from hiswelcoming embrace, she saw Weldon, cap in hand, bowing to her fromwhat appeared a most unseemly distance. The next moment, he hadvanished in the crowd. 

CHAPTER THREE

According to one's individual point of view, Cape Town, on that NewYear morning of nineteen hundred and one, was either a point ofdeparture for the front, or a city of refuge for the sleek andportly Uitlanders who thronged the hotels and made too audiblemourning for their imperiled possessions. Viewed in either light, itwas hot, crowded and unclean. From his caricature of a hansom, Weldon registered his swift impression that he wished to get off tothe front as speedily as possible. The hansom contributed to thisimpression no less than did the city. Out of a multitude of similarvehicles, he had chosen this for its name, painted across itscurving front. The Lady of the Snows had obviously been christenedas a welcome to the scores of his fellow colonials who had gone thatway before; and he and Carew had dashed past Killarney and TheScotch Thistle, to take possession of its padded interior. 

It was almost noon, as they drove through the Dock Gates, past theAmsterdam Battery, and turned eastward towards Adderley Street andthe Grand Hotel. It was nightfall before their luggage was safethrough the custom house and in their room. Carew eyed his boxesaskance. Weldon attacked the straps of his nearest trunk. 

"Wherefore?" Carew queried languidly from the midst of a haze ofsmoke. 

"To take account of stock. "

"What's the use?"

"To find out what we need, of course. "

"But we don't need anything. We've tobacco for our pipes and quininefor our stomachs and fuller's earth for our feet. What more can aman need?" As he spoke, Carew hooked his toe around a second chair, drew it towards him and promptly converted it into a foot-rest. "Besides, " he added tranquilly; "to-morrow is Boxing Day, and thebank won't be open until the day after. You know you can't buyanything more than a pink-bordered handkerchief out of your presentsupplies. "

Weldon laughed. 

"Don't be too sure I can make out even that, " he said, as he divedinto the trunk and pulled out a Klondyke sleeping-bag. 

Carew watched him from between half-closed lids. 

"Going beddy?" he inquired. 

"Confound it, no! I thought my calling kit was in there. " A pair ofdark gray blankets landed in the corner on top of the sleeping-bag. 

"That looks jolly comfortable. You'd better bunk in there, and leavethe bed to me, " Carew advised him. "You're in the wrong trunk foryour calling clothes, anyway. What under heaven do you want of them, Weldon?"

"I don't want them to lie all in a heap. "

"They'll lie in heaps for a good long time, before you are out ofthis country, " Carew predicted cheerfully. "Moreover, from the lookof the place, you could make calls in either pajamas or khaki, andit would pass muster. I saw one fellow, this noon, in eveningclothes and a collar button. Besides, there isn't anybody for us tocall on. "

Weldon smiled contentedly, as he drew out a frock-coat and inspectedits satin-faced lapels. 

"Not for you, perhaps, " he observed quietly. 

"Oh, I see. " Carew puffed vigorously. "So you have a bidding to callupon Miss Dent. "

Weldon dislodged Carew's feet from the extra chair and utilized thechairback as a temporary coat-rack. 

"No; quite the contrary, " he replied. "I am invited to call uponMiss Ophelia Arthur. Now you will please to keep quiet, for I thinkI shall go to bed. "

In silence, Carew watched him half through the process ofundressing. Then, emptying his pipe and snapping open its case, herose and faced his friend. 

"Weldon, " he said sententiously; "we don't care to hang around thisplace longer than we must; and we shall have all we can do to getourselves enlisted and our horses into condition. We haven't timefor much else. I hope you will remember that you came out here, notto fuss the girls, but for the fuss with the Boers. "

From his seat on the edge of the bed, Weldon eyed him amicably. 

"Don't preach, Carew, " he answered coolly. "It doesn't do my soulany good, and it only renders you a bore. It has always been aclause of my creed that two good things are better than one. "

Nevertheless, in spite of his haste to unpack his calling clothes, it was full three days later that Weldon turned his face eastward insearch of the home of Ethel Dent. Moreover, in all those three days, he had given scarcely a thought to the companion of his voyage. Notwithstanding his first impressions, Weldon had found much tointerest him in Cape Town. The streets, albeit unlovely, were fullof novel sights and the patter of novel tongues. Cape carts andKaffirs, traction engines and troopers, khaki everywhere and yetmore khaki, and, rising grimly behind it all, the naked face ofTable Mountain covered with its cloth of clouds! It was all a tumultof busy change, bounded by the unchanging and the eternal. For oneentire morning, Weldon loitered about the streets, viewing allthings with his straightforward Canadian gaze, jostling and jostledby turns. War had ceased to be a myth, and, of a sudden, was becomea grim reality; yet in the face of it all his courage neverfaltered. His sole misgivings concerned themselves with the contrastbetween the seasoned regulars marching to their station, and hisboyish self, full of eager enthusiasm, but trained only in thehunting field, the polo ground and the gymnasium. Then, gripping hishope in both hands, he resolutely shouldered his way into thenearest recruiting office. He went into the office as HarvardWeldon, amateur athlete and society darling of his own home city. Hecame out as Trooper Weldon of the First Regiment of Scottish Horse. 

He spent the next morning in sorting over his miscellaneous luggage. In the light of Cape Town and the practical advice which had beenhis for the asking, his outfit appeared comically complete. Twothirds of it must be stored in Cape Town; of the other third, onefull half must be left with the negro servants at the hotel. Histoilet fixtures would have been adequate for a Paris season; hissuperfluous rugs would have warmed him during a winter on the apexof the North Pole. It was with something between a smile and a sighthat he stowed away the greater part of his waistcoats and neckties, in company with the silver-mounted medicine chest by which hismother had set such store. It was as Carew had said: quinine andtobacco were the main essentials. 

Then, for the last time in many months, he arrayed himself in blackcloth and fine linen, chose his stick and gloves with care, and, leaving Adderley Street behind him, turned eastward towards the homeof the Dents. 

He found Ethel on the broad veranda, bordered with flower-boxes andoverlooking the garden and the blue waters of Table Bay. Dressed ina thin white gown which, to Weldon's mind, was curiously out ofkeeping with all his preconceived notions of January weather, sherose and came forward to greet him at the top of the steps. 

"At last, " she said cordially, while she gave him her hand. "I beganto fear you had already gone to the front. "

"Not without seeing you again, " he answered, as he followed her backto the bamboo chairs at the shaded western end of the veranda. "Infact, I began to be rather afraid I should never see the front atall. "

"What do you mean?" she asked quickly. "Has something happened sinceI saw you?"

"A great deal has happened. The thing I referred to was my firstsight of British regulars. "

Her face cleared. 

"Oh, is that all?"

"It is a good deal, " he assured her, as he sat down. "I came outhere with all sorts of high notions regarding volunteers. "

"Well?" she questioned smilingly. 

"Well, they have been taken out of me. An untrained man isn't worthmuch in any line, least of all in the firing line. Still, it wouldbe very ignominious to go back home again. "

Her eyes swept over his alert, well-groomed figure. 

"And when do you start for the front, Trooper Weldon?"

"How do you know I start at all?"

"How do I know you are sitting opposite me?" she asked lightly. "Having eyes, I use them. "

"And they tell you--?" he responded. 

"That you are looking content with life. "

The laughter died out of his eyes. 

"I am, " he said gravely; "perfectly content. I am enrolled in theScottish Horse, and I go tomorrow. "

"The Scottish Horse?" she asked quickly. "Which squadron?"

"Do you know anything of it?"

"A little, " she answered; "but that little is good. Then it is toMaitland that you are going?"

"Are you omniscient, Miss Dent?"

"No; merely an inquisitive girl who remembers the answers to thequestions that she asks. My father, you know, is in the thick ofthings, and it seems to me I have met half the British army, in thefour days I have been at home. "

"Officers, or Tommies?" he reminded her. 

She laughed at the recollection of her former prejudice. 

"You told the truth, Mr. Weldon. One of the men I danced with, lastseason, is riding across Natal in the same squadron with his groom. In my one London season, I met only officers. Out here, I find LordThomas turned into Tommy Atkins, and I meet him every day. But, aside from the war, what do you think of Cape Town?"

"What would I think of Table Mountain without its tablecloth?" heparried. "In both cases, the two things seem inseparable. "

"Wait till you know the place better, then, " she advised him. "Itreally does have a life of its own, apart from its militarysetting. "

"I am afraid there's not much chance of my knowing it better, " heanswered a little regretfully. 

"Maitland is only three miles away, and you've not met my motheryet, " she suggested. 

"Is she at home now?" Weldon asked, with the conscious air of a mansuddenly recalled to his social duty. 

"Not this afternoon. She has taken Miss Arthur for a drive throughRondebosch. That is quite one of the things to do, you know. "

"I didn't know. Is the redoubtable Miss Arthur well?"

The dimple beside the girl's firm lips displayed itself suddenly, and her eyes lighted. 

"Wonderfully. Her convalescence has been remarkably short. Moreremarkable still is the fact that she has neglected to mention herillness to any one. "

"How soon does she go back?"

The blue eyes met his eyes in frank merriment. 

"Not until she has finished informing my mother of the presentLondon code of chaperonage. "

Weldon raised his brows. 

"Then I shall find her here, when I come back at the end of thewar. "

She made no pretence of misunderstanding him. 

"Are you so much less strict in Canada?"

"We are--different, " he confessed. "Miss Arthur's lorgnette would beimpossible with us. I don't mean the lorgnette itself; but the acuteaccent which she contrives to give to it. Mrs. Scott is more of acolonial matron. "

"Dear little lady! Have you seen her since she landed?"

"Once. They are at the Mount Nelson, and Carew and I called on themthere. They are leaving for De Aar, Monday. "

"And what about Mr. Carew?"

"He goes with me to Maitland. He is Trooper Carew now. "

The girl sat staring thoughtfully out across the lawn. 

"I wonder what sort of a soldier he will make, " she said, half toherself. Weldon faced her sharply. 

"Why?"

"Because life is an embodied joke to him. "

Weldon rose a little stiffly. His call had lasted its allotted time;nevertheless, under other conditions, it might have lasted evenlonger. He liked Ethel Dent absolutely; yet now and then she had acurious fashion of antagonizing him. The alternations of her cordialmoments with her formal ones were no more marked than were thealternations of her viewpoint. As a rule, she looked on life withthe impartial eyes of a healthy-minded boy; occasionally, however, she showed herself hidebound by the fetters of tradition, and, worstof all, she wore the fetters as if they lay loosely upon her. Atsuch moments, he longed acutely to impress her with his own point ofview, as the only just one possible. 

"I think perhaps you don't fully understand Carew, Miss Dent, " hesaid courteously, yet with a slight accent of finality. "He laughsat life like a child; but he lives it like a man. I have known himsince we were boys together; I have never known him to shirk or tofunk a difficult point. If the Scottish Horse ever sees the firingline, it will hold no better trooper than Harry Carew. "

He bowed in farewell and turned away. Looking after him, Ethel Denttold herself that Weldon's simple words had been descriptive, notonly of his friend, but of his loyal, honest self. 

Half-way across the heart-shaped bit of lawn enclosed within thecurve of the drive, Weldon met another guest going towards thesteps. There was no need of the trim uniform of khaki serge toassure him that the man was also a soldier. The starred shoulderstraps were needless to show him that here was one born to command. Glancing up, Weldon looked into a pair of keen blue eyes exactly ona level with his own, took swift note of the full, broad forehead, of the black lashes contrasting with the yellow hair and of theresolute lines of the shaven chin. Then, mindful of his frock-coatand shining silk hat, he repressed his inclination to salute, andwalked steadily on, quite unconscious of the part in his life whichthe stranger was destined to play, during the coming months. 

CHAPTER FOUR

Sitting in the lee of the picket fence which bounded Maitland Campon the west, Paddy the cook communed with himself, and Weldon andCarew communed with him. 

"Oh, it's long and long yet before a good many of these ones will besoldiers, " he, observed, with a disrespectful wave of his thumbtowards the awkward squad still manoeuvering its way about over thebarren stretch of the parade ground. "They ride like tailorssquatting on their press-boards, and they salute like a parrotscratching his head with his hind paw. A soldier is like a poet, born, not made. "

In leisurely fashion, Weldon stretched himself at full length anddrew out a slender pipe. 

"Paddy, if you keep on, I'll fire a kopje at you, " he threatened. 

Paddy disdained the threat. 

"Glory be, the kopjes be riveted down on the bottom end of them! Butit's the truth I'm telling. Half of these men is afraid of theirlives, when they're on a horse. "

"The horses of South Africa are divided into two classes, " Carewobserved sententiously; "the American ones that merely buck, and thecross-eyed Argentine ones that grin at you like a Cheshire cat, after they have done it. Both are bad for the nerves. Still, I'drather be respectfully bucked, than bucked and then laughed at, after the catastrophe occurs. Paddy, my knife has been splittingopen its handle. What's to be done about it?"

"Let's see. "

Bending forward, Carew drew the black-handled knife and fork fromthe coils of his putties. In the orderly surroundings of MaitlandCamp, there was no especial need of his adopting the storage methodsof the trek; nevertheless, he had taken to the new idea with promptenthusiasm. Up to that time, it had never occurred to him to bandagehis legs with khaki, and then convert the bandages into a species ofportable sideboard. 

"Paddy, " Weldon remonstrated; "don't stop to play with his knife. Nomatter if it is cracked. So is he, for the matter of that. Go andtell your menial troop to remember to put a little beef in the soup, this noon. I am tired of sipping warm water and onion juice. "

"What time is it, then?"

"My watch says eleven; but my stomach declares it is half-past two. Trot along, there's a good Paddy. And don't forget to tie a pinkstring to my piece of meat, when you give it to the orderly. Else Imay not know it's the best one. " With a reluctant yawn and a glanceupward towards the sun, Paddy scrambled to his feet and brushedhimself off with the outspread palms of his stubby hands. Then heturned to the men behind him. 

"Stick your fork back in your putties, Mr. Carew, and I'll send youa knife to go with it. As long as Paddy manages the cooking tent, the cracked knives shall go to the dunderheads. The best isn't anytoo good for them as rides like you and Mr. Weldon, and drinks norum at all. "

Weldon eyed him mockingly. 

"And gives their ration of rum to Paddy, " he added. "Go along, man, and set your kettles to boiling, while you return thanks that youknow a good thing when you see it. "

"Paddy is a great boy, " Carew observed, as the little Irishmansaluted them in farewell, then turned and strolled away in thedirection of his quarters. 

"And, what's more, a most outrageously good cook, " Weldon assented. "If Paddy's ambition to shoot a gun should ever be fulfilled, England might gain a soldier; but it would lose a chef of the cordonbleu. "

"If I were to choose, I'd sacrifice his sense of taste for the sakeof keeping his sense of humor, " Carew returned. "Not even war cansubdue Paddy. "

With a disdainful gesture, Weldon pointed out across the sun-bakedparade ground with the stem of his pipe. 

"War! This?" he protested. "It is nothing in this world but a Sundayschool picnic. "

And Carew, as his eyes followed the pointing pipe-stem, was forcedto give his assent. 

It was now five days since, with scores of their mates, Weldon andCarew had been passed from their medical examination to the doubletest of their riding and their shooting. Elated by their threefoldrecommendation, they had lost no time in donning their khaki andtaking up their quarters under the fraction of canvas allotted tothem. The days that followed were busy and slid past with a certainmonotony, notwithstanding their varied routine. From morning stablesat seven until evening stables at six, each hour held its duty, forin that regular, clock-marked life, recreation was counted a dutyjust as surely as were the daily drills. 

Carew, trained on the football field, took to the foot drill as aduck takes to water. Weldon was in his glory on mounted parade. Onesummer spent on an Alberta ranch had taught him the tricks of thebroncho-buster, and five o'clock invariably found him pirouettingacross the parade ground on the back of the most vicious mount to befound within the limits of Maitland. More than once there had been abreathless pause while the entire squadron had waited to watch thekilling of Trooper Weldon; more than once there had been an utterlyprofane pause while the officers had waited for Trooper Weldon tobring his bolting steed back into some semblance of alignment. Thepause always ended with Weldon upright in his saddle, his facebeaming with jovial smiles and his horse ranged up with mathematicalprecision. The delays were by no means helpful to discipline. Nevertheless, the officers yielded to the inevitable with the bettergrace, inasmuch as no one else would voluntarily trust life and limbto the vicious beasts in which Weldon's soul delighted. 

Twice already, during the past five days, Weldon had handed over tothe authorities a chastened and obedient pony, and had made petitionto select a fresh and untrammelled spirit. The one of the afternoonbefore had been the most untrammelled he had as yet attempted. Thecontest had begun with the first touch of the saddle. It hadcontinued with Weldon's being borne across the camp on the back of alittle gray broncho who was making tentative motions towards acomplete handspring. By the time the pony was convinced of theproper function of her own hind legs, Weldon found himself beingdriven from the door of the cooking tent by Paddy and a volley ofpotatoes. The broncho surveyed Paddy with scorn, rose to her hindlegs and strolled towards the corner of the camp sacred to visitors. There she delivered herself of one final, mighty buck. When Weldonregained the perpendicular, he found himself directly facing themerry, admiring eyes of Ethel Dent. By Ethel's side, mounted on ahuge khaki-colored horse, sat the man he had met, only the weekbefore, in the driveway of the Dents' home. 

Scarlet with his exertions, grimly aware that his sleeve was pulledfrom its armhole and his left puttie was strained out of its usualcompact folds, nevertheless Weldon saluted her smilingly and, hismount well in hand, galloped off in search of his squadron. Thatnight, however, his clear baritone voice was missing from the usualchorus about the camp fire; and, as he thoughtfully drained his tinbilly of coffee, next morning, he was revolving in mind the relativemerits of his banker and a dead mother-in-law, as excuses fordemanding a pass to town, that afternoon. 

However, afternoon found him moodily riding about the camp. His bodywas on a subdued gray broncho; his mind was solely upon Ethel andher companion. He liked the girl for herself, as well as for thefact that, in this remote corner of the world, she represented thesole bit of feminine companionship which is the rightful heritage ofevery son of Eve. True, there was Miss Arthur; but Miss Arthur wasantediluvian. Under these conditions, it was galling to Weldon tosee Ethel absorbed by a comrade who, he frankly admitted to himself, was far the more personable man of the two. And the girl's blue eyeshad laughed up into the eyes of the stranger just exactly as, twoshort weeks before, they had laughed up into his own. Then thelittle gray broncho jumped cornerwise, and Weldon had difficulty inimpressing upon her that handsprings were not an approved form ofcavalry tactics. Nevertheless, he did it with a word of apology. Forthe moment, the broncho was not wholly responsible for her return toevil ways. 

Over their breakfast, next morning, his five tentmates fell tocatechising him as to his pensive mood, and their catechism waslargely intermingled with chaff. 

"Paddy's compliments, and roll up for your tucker, " the mess orderlyproclaimed, as he came into the tent, brandishing a coffee pot inone hand, the frying pan in the other. 

Fork in hand, Carew nevertheless paused to take exception to theword. 

"I confess I can't see why Tucker, when it is supposed to untuck thecreases of us, " he observed. "Hermit, shall I serve you in thecorner; or will you deign to join us about the festive frying pan?"

"What's the matter with Weldon, anyhow?" another of the groupqueried, as dispassionately as if the subject of discussion had beenabsent in Rhodesia. "His face is a yard long, and his lips hang downin the slack of the corners. "

"Brace up, man, and get over your grouch, " a third adjured him. "Youare worse than O'Brien was, the morning after he was shoved in kink. Were you in Cape Town, last night?"

"Not a bit of it, " Carew put in hastily, while he buried his knife-bladein the nearest pot of jam. "My left ear can prove an alibi forhim. From taps till midnight, Weldon discoursed of all the grewsomethings in the human calendar. "

The smallest of the group turned himself about and peered up intoWeldon's face. 

"Homesick, man?" he queried. 

"Sure, " Weldon replied imperturbably. 

"Oh. Then get over it. Just dream of the days when the bronchoscease from bucking and the Stringies shoot no more. Meanwhile, ifyou could look pleasant, as the photographers say, it would help onthings wonderfully. "

But the mess orderly interrupted. He had tidings to impart, and theyburned upon his tongue. 

"Have you heard about Eaton-Hill?" he asked, in the first pause thatoffered itself. 

Five faces turned to him with gratifying expectancy. Eaton-Hill hadcome out on the Dunottar Castle. He was known to them all as theacknowledged exquisite of the entire camp. 

"What about him?"

"C. B. I met him coming out of the orderly room. "

"Hm! Camp scavenger. Eaton-Hill will like that, " Weldon commenteddryly. "What's the row about?"

"Cupid apparently. He went calling in Cape Town, last night, withoutleave, stayed till past eleven and undertook to come in by sea. Heshipped in a leaky boat with a crew composed of one Kaffir boy; theKaffir funked the surf; they had an upset and Eaton-Hill waked upthe picket by the fervor of his swearing at the half-drownedKaffir. "

"Poor Eaton-Hill! Both his morals and his clothes must havesuffered, " Carew suggested. "Weldon, take warning. Next time you goto call on Miss Arthur, start early and be sure you have your passpinned to the lining of your coat. "

"Who is Miss Arthur?" demanded the chorus. 

Deliberately Carew helped himself to the last of the bacon. Then hemade answer, with equal deliberation, --

"Miss Arthur is Weldon's lawful chaperon. "

At four o'clock, that afternoon, Weldon arose reluctantly from hisseat on the western end of the Dents' veranda. 

"Parade at five, Miss Dent, and Maitland Camp is four miles away. "

Without rising, she smiled up into his waiting eyes. 

"You made more than four miles an hour, when Captain Frazer and Iwere watching you, the other day, Mr. Weldon. "

"Yes, twenty at least. Still, as you may have noticed, my mountdoesn't always choose the straightest course. If she elects to go toMaitland by way of Durban, it will take me all of the hour to makethe journey. "

She laughed at his words. Then of a sudden her face grew grave. 

"They've no right to give you such a horse, Mr. Weldon. "

"Right? Oh, I beg pardon. I chose it. "

"Is your life so unhappy?" she questioned, in mocking rebuke. 

"It is no suicidal mania, Miss Dent, " he reassured her. "I like therush and excitement of it all; but I had a summer on a ranch, and Ilearned the trick of sitting tight until the beast tires itself out. Broncho-busting is only a concrete form of philosophy, after all. "

"And must you really go?" she asked him. 

He lingered and hesitated. Then, with a glance at the horse fastenedto a post in the drive below, he straightened his shoulders. 

"I must. "

She rose to her feet. 

"Good afternoon, then. "

"And good by, " he added. 

"What does that mean?"

"That we leave Maitland Camp in the morning. "

"I am sorry, " she said, and her voice showed her regret. "Where areyou going?"

"To Maitland station. Then into a train. Beyond that, I do notknow. "

"I am sorry, " she repeated; "but very glad. It is time you weredoing something. I know you didn't take all this journey out herefor the sake of being drilled in Maitland Camp until the end oftime. We shall miss you; but you will come back to us, some day, andtell us all the story of your deeds. Success to you, TrooperWeldon!"

She gave him her hand; then stood looking after him, as he went downthe steps. Once in the saddle, he turned back to wave a farewell tothe tall girl framed in the arching greenery that sheltered thebroad veranda. Then, urging on his horse, he went galloping away, his boyish face turned resolutely towards the front. 

Careless of the oldtime superstition, the girl watched him out ofsight. Then slowly she moved back to their deserted corner where shesat long, her elbows on the arms of her chair and her chin restingon her hands. Her eyes were held steadily on Table Bay; but herthoughts followed along the road to Maitland Camp--and beyond. 

CHAPTER FIVE

That January had brought the second irruption of Boers into CapeColony. In reality, they were near Calvinia; but, by the middle ofthe month, rumor had so far out-stripped fact that certain refugeeUitlanders were ready to affirm that Table Mountain was held by aninvading army who patrolled the summit, coffee pot in one hand andBible in the other. Under these conditions, the little Dutch churchat Piquetberg Road had become, in all truth, the abiding-place ofthe Church Militant. 

In deference to tradition, the altar had been promptly pulled downand its ornaments stowed away to be safe from possible desecration. The altar rail was left, however, and Weldon sat leaning against it, his eyes vaguely turned upwards to the organ in the farther end ofthe church. From the open floor between, the buzz of many voices andthe smoke of many pipes rose to the roof; from the vestry roombehind him, he heard the cleaner-cut accent of the officers. Outside, above the light spatter of rain on the windows, he couldhear the horses stamping contentedly in the leafy avenue without thechurchyard wall, and the brawl of the stream beyond. The twilightlay heavy over the church, heaviest of all over the distant organgallery, where Weldon could barely make out a single figure movingtowards the bench. There was a rattle of stops, a tentative chord ortwo and then a few notes of this or that melody, as if the player, albeit a musician, found himself continually thwarted by thedarkness and the absence of any printed notes. 

"Who is up there, Weldon?" Carew asked, as he peered up into thedimness. 

"Shut up; can't you?" Weldon ordered him abruptly. 

And Carew subsided, just as the unseen organist, apparentlyabandoning his more ambitious efforts, with sure touch swept intothe familiar harmonies of the Eventide Hymn, and then, still withhis hymnal in mind, jerked out the dozen stops and set the airrocking to the steady beat of Onward, Christian Soldiers. 

As he listened, Weldon's mind went backward to his last Sundayevening in the cathedral at home. He had known why the old rectorhad chosen that time-worn hymn for a recessional; he could stillfeel the stir of the congregation as he passed them, still see thescarlet blot of color made by his own hymnal against his stifflystarched cotta, still see his mother, erect and pale, staring at himwith a resolute bravery which matched his own. Since then, he hadbeen inside no church until to-day. It was a far cry fromworshipping in the Gothic cathedral to camping in the simple littleDutch church; but in each the air was vibrating to the same martialhymn. 

Little by little, the groups scattered over the floor fell intosilence. Here and there, one took up the refrain, now humming itsoftly, now singing it with full voice. Then the refrain died away;there was an instant's hush, an instant's modulation; and, as a man, the crowd beneath rose to their feet and stood, pipe in hand, whileslowly, steadily from the organ came rolling down the familiar notesof God Save the Queen. 

The organ was closed with a muffled clatter, the organist rose andslowly came down to the floor. With a friendly word here and there, he passed among the troopers who saluted him and then settledthemselves again for comfort and their pipes. Last of all, he pausedbeside Weldon. 

"It is good to put my fingers on the keys again, " he said, as he satdown for a moment on the low rail. "We had an organ at home, and Imiss it. I builded better than I knew, when I chose this place forour barracks. One rarely finds an organ out here. "

Just then an orderly lighted the chancel where they stood. Theorganist gave a slight exclamation of surprise. 

"Isn't this Trooper Weldon?"

The speaker's face was in shadow. Only the starred shoulder strapsgave Weldon any clue to the rank of his companion. 

"It is, " he answered briefly. 

"Miss Dent has spoken of you. In fact, we were together at MaitlandCamp, last week, when you tried issues with the little graybroncho. "

As he spoke, he moved slightly, and the light fell full upon hisyellow hair and on his blue eyes, dark and fringed with long blacklashes. Weldon looked up at him with a smile of recognition. 

"It is Captain Frazer, then?"

"Yes. I am congratulating you on having won your way into MissDent's good graces. She tells me you were most thoughtful for her, all the way out. "

"You have known Miss Dent for a long time?" Weldon queried. 

Captain Frazer answered the question as frankly as it was asked. Forthe moment, they were man and man. In a moment more, they couldresume their formal relations of captain and soldier. 

"I knew her well in England. We met at one or two house parties, ayear ago last fall. I was at her coming-out function, too. " Then herose. "I shall see you again, " he added formally. "Now I wish tomake my round of the guards. " And, turning, he went striding awaytowards his own quarters in the vestry. 

Weldon looked after him thoughtfully. Then he uttered tersejudgment. 

"Carew, that's a man, " he said. 

"Quite likely, " Carew assented. "Women don't usually wear khaki. Shall we go in search of Paddy?"

They found him smoking tranquilly by the churchyard gate. The oldstone wall towering above his head made good shelter from thedrizzle; and Paddy, his day's labor done, was leaning back at hisease, exchanging adverse compliments with the half-dozen sentrieswho patrolled the wall. He hailed Weldon with cordiality. 

"Come along here, little Canuck, " he called. "There's room for thetwo of us and fine smoking. Mr. Carew can stay out in the rain. It'sworth his while, even then, for the sake of watching that pigeon-toedcockney in the oilskins, him as is stubbing his toes in thesand, this blessed minute. "

"Shut up, Paddy, " his victim retorted hotly. 

"It's you that should shut up and teach the toes of you to walkhushlike. If you go on like this, you living watchman's rattle, theBoers can hear you, clear up in the Transvaal. Tell me, little one, have you seen your captain yet?"

"Captain Frazer?"

"Yes, Captain Leo Frazer, sure as you're a trooper of C. Squadron. You're in luck, boy. There's not a better soldier nor a finerChristian, this side the line. Neptune must have give him an extryscrubbing, when he come over, for he's white he is, all white. Boys!" Paddy spoke in a portentous whisper. 

"Let her go, " Weldon advised him calmly. 

"It goes without letting. Once let Paddy get free of his skillets, once let him have a rifle in place of his spoon, and you'll see war. The Kingdom of Heaven is a spot of everlasting peace. All I ask ofSaint Peter is a place in front of a line of Boers and CaptainFrazer beside me to give the orders. "

"Here he is, Paddy. " The low-pitched voice was full of mirth. "Heorders you inside your tent to plan up an extra good breakfast. Someof these fellows must volunteer for a night guard out in the open, and they will need a feast, when they come in. "

Weldon rose hastily. 

"At your service, Captain, " he said, just as Paddy, in nowisedaunted by the unexpected presence of his superior, responded, --

"Sure, Captain, I put a condition on the tail of it. If you'llremember back a little, you'll see that I merely said, 'when I get arifle instead of a spoon. ' It's a sorry day for an able-bodied manto be tied to a frying pan all his days. Now and then he longs toleap out and get into the fire. "

Meanwhile, half of the men inside the church were volunteering forthe party of twenty guards demanded by the Captain. It was a surlynight, cold and raw with a drizzling rain. Nevertheless, this wastheir first approach to anything even remotely resembling activeservice, and the men sought it eagerly. 

By dint of attaching himself to the Captain's elbow and assumingthat his going was an understood thing, Weldon accomplished his aim. Eleven o'clock found him, wet to his skin, sneaking on the points ofhis toes through the thick grass beyond the river, with nineteenother men sneaking at his heels. There had been no especial pretextof Boers in the neighborhood; tactical thoroughness merely demandeda guard on the farther side of the river. Nevertheless, theenthusiastic fellows threw themselves into the game with the samespirit with which, twenty years before, they had faced the danger ofa runaway by the tandem of rampant hall chairs. A stray Boer or twowould have made an interesting diversion; but, even without theBoers, a night guard in the open possessed its own interest. 

By four in the morning, the interest had waned perceptibly. Theestablishment of their force in a convenient hut and the placing ofpickets had served to occupy an hour or so. After that, nothinghappened. The storm was increasing. The rain beat ceaselessly on thecorrugated iron roof of their shelter and made a dreary bassaccompaniment to the strident tenor of the rising wind. Inside thebut the men yawned and whispered together by turns. Carew's bestjokes began to fall a little flat, and Weldon held his watch to hisear, to assure himself that it was still in active service. Thenhastily he thrust the watch into his pocket, gathered up hissleeping-bag and removed himself to a remote corner of the hut, withCarew and a dozen more after him. 

Not even the most enthusiastic champion of South African rights canaffirm that the South African citizen is heedful of the condition ofhis lesser buildings. The rising wind had proved too much for thehut. Its joints writhed a little, seesawed up and down a little, then yawned like a weary old man. From a dozen points above, therain came pattering down, seeking with unerring instinct thatprecise spot on each man's back where skin and collar meet. 

"Whither?" Carew queried, as Weldon made his fifth move. 

"Outside, to see what the pickets are about. "

"But it rains, " Carew protested lazily. 

"So I observe. Still, I'd rather take it outside as it comes, instead of having a gutter empty itself on me, when I am supposed tobe under cover. "

"Better stay in, " Carew advised him. 

"No use. Sleep is out of the question, and I'd rather be moving; itis less monotonous. "

"Go along, then, and look out for Boers. Can I have your bag?"

"You're too wet; you'd soak up all the inside of it. If I am to geta chill, I'd rather do it from my dampness than your own. " Carewlaid hands on the bag. 

"What a selfish beast you are, Weldon!" he observed tranquilly. "This is no sack-race; you can't go out to walk in your bag. Infact, it takes two to make a navigable pair. Then why not let mehave it?"

"Why didn't you bring your own?"

Already Carew was arranging himself in his new covering. 

"I mislaid mine in Cape Town, " he replied sleepily. "Now please goaway. I need my beauty nap. "

An hour later, he was roused by a sharp reversal of his normalposition. When he became fully awake, he was lying in a pool ofwater in the middle of the hut, and Weldon was in possession of theblankets and bag. 

"What's the row?" he asked thickly. "I'm a Canadian, out hereshooting Boers. Oh, I say!" And he was on his feet, saluting the manat Weldon's side. 

"The only bag in the squadron, Captain Frazer, " Weldon wasexplaining. "The blankets are quite dry. Roll yourself up, and youwill be warm in a few minutes. "

Carew surveyed the transfer with merry, impartial eyes. 

"Well, I like that, " he said, when the Captain's yellow head was allthat was visible above the encircling cocoon. "I thought you saidthat you preferred to catch cold from your own wetness, Weldon. Iwas merely damp; this man is a sponge. "

Before Weldon could answer, the yellow head turned, and the blueeyes looked up into Carew's eyes laughingly. 

"Merely one of the privileges of rank, Carew, " the Captain observedas dryly as if he had not risen from his warm bed to swim the riverand walk a mile in the darkness and the downpour, in order to seehow the new boys were getting on. 

CHAPTER SIX

Captain Leo Frazer, age thirty and an Englishman, had a trick oflooking Fate between the eyes with those black-fringed blue eyes ofhis, of accepting its gifts with gratitude, its occasional knockswith cheery optimism. At Rugby he had ultimately been captain of theschool; at Oxford he had been of equal prowess in rowing andfootball. Since taking his degree, he had been a successful doctorin the intervals of time allowed him by his membership in one of thecrack regiments at home. He had never seriously contemplated thepossibility of active service; but Colenso had been too strong apull upon him. Leaving some scores of sorrowing patients to bemoanhim as already dead, he had promptly shipped for Cape Town. The yearof grace nineteen hundred had found him on the scene at most of itsexciting events. Where Fate refused to take him, he asserted hisstrong hand and took Fate, until that weary lady was forced to gohopping about the map of South Africa with the agility of a sandflea. 

In battle, Frazer was always in the thickest spatter of bullets, where he bowed himself to the inevitable and lay prone, though withhis face turned to one side to give free passage to the chaff whichcarried his comrades through so many grim hours. In the presence ofdanger, his humor never failed him. In those sorrowful hours whichfollowed the cessation of firing, no man was in greater demand thanhe. Many a brave fellow had died with his hand shut fast overFrazer's long, slim fingers; many a man's first, awful moments inhospital had been soothed by the touch of those same firm, slimhands. And in the singsongs around the camp fire, or at the messtable, Frazer's voice was always heard, no matter how great thetumult of a moment before. 

Like many another of his countrymen, Captain Frazer had learnedlessons since he had left the ship at Cape Town, just a year before. He had come out from England, trained to the inflexibly formaltactics of the British army. Again and again he had seen thosetactics proved of no avail in the face of an invisible enemy and analmost inexpugnable country. He had learned the nerve-rackingtension of being exposed to a storm of bullets that came apparentlyfrom nowhere to cut down the British lines as the hail cuts down thestanding grain; he had learned the shock of seeing the level veldt, over which he was marching, burst into a line of fire at his veryfeet from a spot where it seemed that scarce a dozen men could liein hiding, to say nothing of a dozen scores. He had learned that, under such fire, a man's first duty was to drop flat on his face, topush up a tiny breastwork of earth and to fire from behind thatslender shelter. England could not afford to send her sons over seasfor the sake of having them slaughtered by needless obedience to thelaws of martial good form. Fighting a nation of hunters, they toomust adopt the methods of the hunt. And, most of all, Captain Frazerhad learned the imperative need of mounted riflemen. Two monthsbefore, while lying up at Durban until his wrist had healed from aMauser bullet, he had come into close contact with the Marquis ofTullibardine. As a result of that contact, January had found CaptainFrazer in Cape Town, ready to take command of the newly enlistedScottish Horse. 

Now, as he looked over his force at Piquetberg Road, he wascongratulating himself that his men were fit for service, very fit. Frazer knew something of men. Experience had assured him that thesemen were worth training and his months of service under the greatField Marshal had taught him that an officer could be a man amonghis men, yet lose not one jot of his dignity. Accordingly, Frazerset himself to the task in band. By the time he had been atPiquetberg Road for two days, he knew the name and face of every manin his squadron. A week later he could tell to a nicety which of hismen were engaged to girls at home, which of them had heard of oneRudyard Kipling, and which of them could be counted upon in anemergency. The two latter counts Weldon filled absolutely. In regardto the first, Frazer permitted himself a moment of acute uneasiness. It had been in a spirit of unmitigated joy that Frazer had met EthelDent in Cape Town, on the morning of New Year's day. In London hehad known the girl just well enough to admire her intensely, notwell enough, however, to have found out that she had any permanentconnection with South Africa. His joy had lasted until the hour ofhis calling upon her, three days later; then it had received asudden check. Ethel had been as cordial as ever; nevertheless, hertalk had been full of the young Canadian whom he had met in thedrive. Frazer was intensely human. After a year of separation hewould have preferred to bound the talk by the experiences of theirtwo selves. 

As a natural consequence, he had developed a strong prejudiceagainst Weldon; but Weldon, all unconsciously, had done much toremove that prejudice. Not every man could manage a crazy, buckingbroncho in any such fashion as that; fewer still could come out ofthe scrimmage, unhurt, to bow to a young woman with a cordialityquite untinged with boyish bravado. That day at Maitland, Frazer hadregistered his mental approval of the long-legged, lean Canadianwith his keen gray eyes and his wrists of bronze. He had registereda second note of approval, that first night at Piquetberg Road, whenWeldon, with no unnecessary words, had contrived to impress upon themind of his captain that he was to be included in the guard to crossthe river. Totally obedient and respectful, Weldon nevertheless hadgiven the impression of a man who intended to win his own way. Moreover, the direction of that way appeared to be straight towardsthe front. 

Meanwhile, peacefully unconscious of this diagnosis, Weldon wassitting on the river bank, prosaically occupied in scooping out theremaining taste left in an almost-empty jam tin. Beside him, Carewwas similarly occupied. Two more jam tins were between them and, exactly opposite the pair of jam tins, there squatted a burlyKaffir, young, alert and crowned with a thatch of hair which byrights should have sprouted from the back of a sable pig. His mouthwas slightly open, and now and then his tongue licked out, like thetongue of an eager dog. Aside from his hair, his costume consistedof one black sock worn in lieu of muffler and a worn pair of khakitrousers. 

Behind him, the river caught the sunset light and turned it to asheet of flowing copper; beyond stretched the open country in long, waving lines that ended in the deep yellow band of the afterglow. Above them, the sky was blue; but it dropped from the blue zenith tothe yellow horizon through every imaginable shade of emerald andtopaz until all other shades lost themselves in one vivid blaze ofburnt orange. It had been a day of intense heat. Already, however, the falling twilight and the inevitable eastward shift of the windhad brought the first hint of the evening chill. 

Weldon shrugged his shoulders. 

"Hurry up, Carew, " he adjured his companion. "I am for leaving ourfeast and hieing us back to the sanctuary. "

"Right, oh!" Carew raised his jam tin and took careful aim at a rockin mid stream. 

Instantly the Kaffir hitched forward. 

"Mine?" he demanded. 

Carew stayed his arm. 

"What for?"

"Eat. Um good. "

"Nothing in there but atmosphere, sonny. You can get that out of anybox. Suppose I can hit that little black point, Weldon?"

"Not if I know it, " Weldon said coolly, as he tossed his own tin tothe boy and, seizing that of Carew, threw it after its mate. "Letthe little coon have his lick, Carew. It's not pretty to watch himgo at it, tongue first; but we can't all be Chesterfields. What isyour name, sonny?"

The boy paused with suspended tongue, while he rolled the greatwhites of his eyes up at the questioner. Then, the whites stillturned upon Weldon, he took one more hasty lick. 

"Kruger Roberts, " he said then, detaching himself for an instantfrom his treasure. "Oh, I infer you like to sit on fences?" Weldonsaid interrogatively. 

"Ya, Boss. "

"Which side do you intend to come down?"

"Me no come down, " the boy answered nonchalantly, more from inherentindifference than from any comprehension of Weldon's allegory. 

"All right. Stop where you are. Meanwhile, I think I should call youJamboree. "

"Ya, Boss. " The face vanished from sight behind the tilted tin. Thenit reappeared, and a huge finger pointed to the remaining tins. "Mine, too?"

But already the boy was forgotten. Weldon was following hard on theheels of the sentry who had dashed through the gate in thechurchyard wall. 

Four o'clock the next morning, that darkest hour which, by its verydarkness, heralds the coming dawn, found C. Squadron moving out fromthe gray-walled churchyard, their faces set towards the easternmountains. All night long they had stood under arms, ready for theattack which might be at hand. By dawn, they were well on their waytowards the laager, fifteen miles distant, whence had come thescouting hand of Boers who, for two days past, had made leisurelyefforts to pick off their scattered sentinels. At the head of thelittle troop rode Frazer. Behind him and as close to his heels asmilitary law allowed, came Weldon, mounted on the same little blackhorse which had so often carried him to the hunt at home. Horse andrider both sniffed the chilly dawn with eager anticipation. Eachknew that something was in store for them; each contrived to impressupon the other his determination to make a record, whateverhappened. For one short minute, Weldon let his strong hand rest onthe satiny neck. He could feel the answering pressure of the musclesbeneath the shining skin. That was enough. He and The Nig were inperfect understanding, one with another. 

"Weldon?"

He spurred forward to the Captain's side and saluted. 

"In the flurry, last night, I forgot to tell you that Miss Dentcomes to Piquetberg Road, to-day. She is to visit a cousin, MissMellen; and she wished me to tell you that she hoped you could findtime to call upon her. "

The Captain spoke low, his eyes, after the first moment, steadilyfixed upon the line of hills before them. Weldon answered in thesame low tone. 

"You have heard from Miss Dent?"

"Yes. A note came, last night. She is to be here for a month, whileher uncle is in England on a business trip. Mr. Mellen is the mayor. You probably know the house. "

"I can easily find it. Please tell Miss Dent I shall be sure to callas--"

A blinding flash ran along the line of hills close in the foregroundwhere, an instant before, had been only empty ground. There was asharp crackle, a strident hum and then the muffled plop of bulletsburying themselves in the earth six hundred feet in the rear. TheNig grew taut in every muscle; then she edged slowly towards thehuge khaki-colored horse that bore the Captain, and, for an instant, the two muzzles touched. 

"Too long a range, man. Try it again, " Frazer observed coolly, ashis glance swept the empty landscape, then, turning, swept the facesof his men. 

That last sight was to his liking. He nodded to himself andstraightened in his saddle, while the orders dropped from his lips, swift, clean-cut and brooking no question nor delay. Ten men wentgalloping off far to the southward, to vanish among the foothillsand reappear on the pass behind the enemy, while a dozen Boers, springing up from the bowels of the earth, followed hard on theirheels. Ten more took the horses and fell back out of range of thefiring; and the remainder of the squadron stayed in their places andhelped to play out the game. 

It was all quite simple, all a matter of course. Instead of the fussand fume and chaos of fighting, it had worked itself out like aproblem in mathematics, and Weldon, as he lay on the ground with hisLee-Enfield cuddled into the curve of his shoulder, felt himselfreducing it to a pair of simultaneous equations: if X Britons equalY Boers on the firing line, and Y Britons draw off the fire of WBoers, then how many Britons--But there came a second flash and asecond spatter, nearer, this time; and he lost his mathematics in asudden rush of bad temper which made him long to fly at theinvisible foe and beat him about the head with his clubbed rifle. Itwas no especial satisfaction for a man in his position to climb upon his elbow and help to discharge a volley at an empty landscape. The war pictures he had been prone to study in his boyhood had beenfull of twisty-necked prancing horses and bright-coated swaggeringmen, all on their feet, and very hot and earnest. Here the picturewas made up of a row of brown-clothed forms lying flat on theirstomachs and, far before them, a single flat-topped hill and a fewheaps of scattered black rocks. And this was modern war. 

There came a third blaze, a third hum of Mauser bullets. Then heheard a swift intake of the breath, followed by Carew's voice, thedrawling, languid voice which Weldon had learned to associate withmoments of deep excitement. 

"Say, Weldon, some beggar has hit me in the shoulder!"

Then of a sudden Weldon realized that at last he knew what it meantto be under fire. 

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Oh, truce! Truce!" Alice Mellen protested. "Don't talk shop, Cooee. "

"It's not shop; it is topics of the day, " Ethel respondedtranquilly. "Besides, I want to hear about Mr. Carew. Is hedangerous?"

Weldon laughed. 

"No, for his wound; yes, for his temper. One was only a scratch; theother way, he was horribly cut up. "

"Did he swear?" Alice queried, while she distributed lumps of sugaramong the cups. 

"Alice!"

"Don't pretend to be shocked, Cooee. Even if you haven't been outbut one season, you ought to know what happens when a man turnstesty. Frankly, I think it is a healthy sign, if a man stops toswear when he is hit. It shows there are no morbid secretions. "

"You prefer superficial outbreaks, Miss Mellen?" Frazer inquired, ashe handed Ethel her cup. 

"Yes. They are far less likely to produce mortification later on, "she answered, laughing up into his steady eyes. "What do you do, when you are hit, Captain Frazer?"

"They call me Lucky Frazer, you know, " he replied. "I've been in noend of scrimmages, and I was never hit but once. "

Bending over, Ethel turned back the cloth and thumped on the underside of the table. 

"Unberufen and Absit omen, " she said hastily. "Don't temptProvidence too far, Captain Frazer. At my coming-out reception, Imet a man who boasted that he always broke everything within range, from hearts to china. Ten minutes later, he tripped over a rug andfell down on top of the plate of salad he was bringing me. And hedidn't break a thing--"

"Except his own record, " Weldon supplemented unexpectedly. "Isuspect he also broke the third commandment. The keeping of that andthe falling down in public are totally incompatible. "

"And that reminds me, you were going to tell what Mr. Carew did whenhe was hit, " Ethel reminded him. 

"I never tell tales, Miss Dent. "

"But, really, how does it feel to be under fire?" she persisted. 

"Ask Captain Frazer. He has had more experience than I. "

She barely turned her eyes towards Frazer's face. 

"He is talking to my cousin and won't hear. Were you frightened?"

"No. "

"Truly? But you wouldn't confess, if you were. "

He blushed at the mockery in her tone. 

"Yes. Why not? I expected to be desperately afraid; but I was onlydesperately angry. "

"At what?"

"Nothing. That's the point. There was nothing in sight to be angryat. Bullets came from nowhere in a pelting shower. Most of themdidn't hit anything; there was no cloud from which the shower couldcome. One resented it, without knowing exactly why. It was being thebig fellow who can't hit back when the little one torments him. "

"Cooee!"

The remonstrance was long-drawn and forceful. This time, Ethelheeded. 

"What is it, Alice?"

"Do you remember that, this noon, we agreed not to mention the war?These men fight almost without ceasing. When they aren't fighting, they do sentry and stables and things. This is an afternoon off forthem. We really must talk accordingly. "

"What are you and Captain Frazer talking about?"

"Cricket and seven-year locusts. "

Ethel held out her empty cup. 

"Very well. Then Mr. Weldon and I will discuss mosquitoes and seven-dayBaptists. No sugar, please, and I'd like another of those snappythings. "

"Does that mean a Mauser?" Weldon asked, as he brought back her cup. 

"No. I mean biscuits, not cats. But you sinned then. However, mycousin has her eye upon us, so we must be distinctly frivolous. Isthere any especially peaceful subject you would like to discuss?"

"Yes. Please explain your name. "

She looked up at him with sudden literalness. 

"It is for my grandmother. For four hundred years there has been anEthel Dent in every generation. "

"I meant the other. "

"Oh, Cooee?" She laughed. "It dates from our first coming out here, when we were children. My old Kaffir nurse--I was only five, thatfirst trip--used to call me so, and every one took it up. We wentback to England, after a few weeks, and the name was dropped; but myuncle stayed out here, and he and my cousin always kept the oldword. "

Weldon stirred his tea thoughtfully. 

"I rather like it, do you know?" he said. 

"Surely, you don't think it fits me?"

His eyes moved from her shining hair to the hem of her elaboratewhite gown. Then he smiled and shook his head. 

"Not to-day, perhaps. But the Miss Dent of the Dunottar Castle--"

She interrupted him a little abruptly. 

"Does that mean I am two-sided?"

"No; only complex. "

She smiled in gracious response. 

"You did that very well, Mr. Weldon, " she said, with a slight accentof superiority which galled him. Then, before he could reply, shechanged the subject, speaking with a lowered voice. "And what of theCaptain?"

It suited his mood not to understand her. 

"In what way?"

"Every way. What do you think of him?"

Then she drew back, abashed by the fervor of the answer, as he saidslowly, --

"That the Creator made him, and then broke the pattern. "

The little pause which followed caught the alert attention of thehostess, and convinced her that it was time to shift the groups toanother combination. A swift gesture summoned Weldon to the table, while Frazer dropped into his vacant chair. Ethel met the Captainwith only a half-concealed eagerness. This was not the first timethat a consciously trivial word of hers had been crushed out of lifeby Weldon's serious dignity. She was never quite able to understandhis mood upon such occasions. The man was no prig. At times, he wasas merry as a boy. At other times, he showed an inflexibleseriousness which left her with the vague feeling of being somehowor other in the wrong. The result was a mood of pique, rather thanof antagonism. Up to that time, Ethel Dent had known only unreservedapproval. Weldon's occasional gravity, to her mind, suggestedcertain reservations. By way of overcoming these reservations, shefocussed her whole attention upon Captain Leo Frazer. Across thetable, Weldon, in the intervals of his talk with his hostess, couldhear the low murmur of their absorbed conversation. 

It had been at Ethel's suggestion that the tea-table had been set, that hot afternoon, under the trees in the heart of the garden. Justat the crossing of two broad walks, a vine-roofed kiosk gave shelterfrom the late sunshine, while its bamboo screens were half raised toshow the long perspective of garden walk and distant lawn. Save forthe orange grove at the left and the ash-colored leaves of thesilver wattle above them, Weldon could almost have fancied himselfin England. The lawn with its conventional tennis court wasessentially English; English, too, the tray with its fixtures. There, however, the resemblance stopped. The ebony handmaiden whobrought out the tray was never found in private life outside thelimits of South Africa. When she sought foreign countries, it wasmerely as a denizen of a midway plaisance. 

"Yes, and their names are their most distinctive feature, " Aliceassented to Weldon's comment. 

"More than their mouths?" he asked, with a flippant recollectionof Kruger Roberts engrossed in his jam tin. 

"At least as much so, " she responded, laughing. "You notice that Icalled our maid Syb. She told me, when she came, that her old masternamed her Sybarite. I understood it, the next day, when I found hersnoring on the drawing-room sofa. "

During the time of her answer, Weldon took his opportunity to looksteadily at his young hostess. Up to the moment of the shifting ofthe groups, he had been too fully absorbed in the pleasure of oncemore meeting Ethel to pay much heed to any one else. Now he turnedhis gray eyes upon Alice Mellen, partly from real interest in herpersonality; partly to counterbalance the rapt attention which Ethelwas bestowing upon the Captain. She had been the selfsame Ethel, abundle of contradictions that attracted him at one moment andantagonized him at the next. He liked her absolutely; his veryliking for her increased the sense of antagonism when, for theinstant, she departed from his ideals of what she ought to be. Andyet, Weldon was candid enough to admit to himself that she departedfrom them, rather than fell below them. Often as she had antagonizedhim, she had never really disappointed him. 

As for Alice Mellen, he confessed himself surprised. Gatheringtogether all that Ethel had ever told him of her cousin, of herliving her entire life out there in the southern end of SouthAfrica, of her desire to be a nurse, he had pieced together aneffigy of the combined traits of a Hottentot and a vivandiere. Thisgirl answered to neither description. Her clothes and her mannersand her accent all had come, albeit with slow indirectness, fromLondon. Not only would she and her gowns pass muster in a crowd; butfurthermore she would end by being the focal point of a good shareof that crowd. Nevertheless, Weldon found it impossible to discoverher most distinctive point. Even while he sought it, he wondered tohimself whether this might not be another cousin of whom he hadnever heard. The women doctors and nurses at home wore stout shoesand had pockets let in at the seams of their frocks, useful, doubtless, but with an unlovely tendency to yawn and show theircontents. This girl was a mere fluff of pale yellow organdie whichbrought out the purplish lights in her ink-black hair. 

"Did you have the heart to disturb her?" he asked, reverting to thesubject of Syb's nap. 

"I was forced to. She was on all the cushions, and I needed one formyself. She took it in good part, though. She told me she had beendisturbed, the night before, by the snoring of the parrot, two roomsaway. As a result, she left me feeling that the apology really oughtto come from me. "

"Is that the way of the race?" Weldon queried, as he set down hisempty cup. "If so, you make me tremble. "

"Why?"

"Because, without in the least intending it, I have accumulated aboy. "

She looked up suddenly. 

"How do you mean?"

"I don't know how. It apparently did itself. It was the day beforewe went out to be fired at, and he said his name was Kruger Roberts, and I fed him some empty jam tins. "

"A huge black boy with bristly hair?" she interpolated. 

"Yes, and a mouth so large that one wonders how his face can hold itall. "

She sat up alertly, resting her folded arms on the edge of thetable. 

"This becomes interesting. Kruger Roberts is Syb's avowed and lawfullover. "

Weldon laughed. 

"Mine also, as it appears. As I say, I fed him jam tins. There werefour of them, and they were very jammy. Then we became interested inthe Boers, and I forgot Kruger Roberts. When I came back, yesterdaymorning, dead tired and my horse all in a mess, I found KrugerRoberts calmly sitting on my extra blankets, cleaning my shoes withPaddy's best dishcloth. Paddy was in a wild state of mutiny, andtold me that that chattering baboon had vowed he was TrooperWeldon's boy. Since then, I have tried in vain to dislodge him; butit is no use. The Nig is like a piece of satin, and it is all I cando to keep my compressed-paper buttons from winking defiance at theBoers on the northern edge of Sahara. "

Alice Mellen laughed with the air of one who understood thesituation. 

"You builded better than you knew, Mr. Weldon, and your jam tinswill be no house of cards. The Kaffirs are an unaccountable race ofbeings, lazy and good-natured. Once let them love or hate, though, and all their strength goes into the working out of the feeling. Kruger Roberts obviously has a sweet tooth; the day may come whenyour enemies may find it changed to a poisoned fang. Do you want theadvice of one who knows the country?"

"I do, " he assented heartily. 

"Then keep your Kruger Roberts, " she said decisively. 

"But what shall I do with him?"

"Let him do for you. "

"As a valet? I've never been used to such luxury, " he protested, laughing. 

She shook her head. 

"Not only valet. He will be groom, cook, guide, interpreter and, whether you wish it or not, your chum. Moreover, he will do it allwith the face of a clown and the manner of a tricksy monkey. As apanacea for the blues, you will find him invaluable. "

There was a little pause. Then she added, with a complete change oftone, "My cousin has spoken of you so often, Mr. Weldon. "

"And of you, " he returned. 

The directness of her answer pleased him. 

"Then we ought to start as friends, and not waste time over mereacquaintance. "

"I thought there were no acquaintances out here, " he answeredlightly. "In camp, our first question is: Friend, or foe?"

"In the towns, we have every grade between. Often the same personslides through all the grades in a single day. But you haven'tanswered me. "

His eyes met her eyes frankly. 

"About the friendship? I thought that wasn't necessary. "

"Customary, however, " she suggested, with a smile. 

"But, as I say, there are no customs here, " he retorted. "At least, I should have said so, this morning. Now I am not so sure. " Then helaughed. "I've bungled that horribly, Miss Mellen. What I meant wasthat you have given me a very good time, this afternoon. "

"Prove it by coming again, " she advised him. 

"If I may. I don't wish to wear out my welcome; but one hasn't somany friends in South Africa. "

"What about Kruger Roberts?" she reminded him. 

"That gives me two. "

"And Captain Frazer?"

Weldon's eyes lighted. 

"Some day, perhaps. I would be willing to wait for that. "

Gravely her glance roved from the alert young Canadian at her sideto the older, more steadfast face across the table. Then she shookher head. 

"You will not have to wait long, Mr. Weldon?" she said quietly. "Captain Frazer spoke of you, a week ago. I have known him formonths; I know what, with him, stands for enthusiasm. "

"I wish you might be a true prophet. I would honor you, even here inyour own garden. For the sake of Captain Frazer's regard, I wouldgive up most things, " he replied, too low to be overheard by thecouple who were now chaffing each other above their cooling cups. 

Later on, he wondered a little how far the apparent inconsequence ofher next question was the result of chance. 

"What about Cooee?" she asked, in a voice as low as his own hadbeen. 

He hesitated. Then he looked up at her steadily. 

"Miss Mellen, I am sure I don't know, " he answered gravely. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Beastly shame that the Boers hadn't buried themselves instead ofthe guns!" Carew remarked, as he wrestled with a tough thong ofbully beef which yielded to his jaws much as an India-rubber erasermight have done. 

Without making any pretence of extracting nutriment from his ownration, Weldon converted it into a missile and hurled it straight athis companion. 

"There's this difference, " he returned pithily; "a gun is a goodenough fellow to deserve Christian burial. Carew, do you ever yearnfor the fleshpots?"

Without bringing his jaws to a halt, Carew shook his head. 

"Do you?" he asked, after a prolonged interval. 

"Yes, if they could be brought here; not otherwise. I like the game;but I also like a little more oats mixed with my fodder. How long isit since we had a square meal?"

"How long since we halted in that pineapple grove, coming up fromDurban?" Carew retorted. "That made up for a good deal. You have nocause to rebel, though. Between Paddy and Kruger Bobs, you stand infor all the tidbits that are going. "

With a mock sigh, Weldon pointed backward over his shoulder. 

"But unfortunately Kruger Bobs and The Nig are left behind in theshadow of Naauwpoort's dreary heights. By the way, Carew, does itever strike you that these Boers make a lot more fuss over theirspelling than they do over their pronunciation? At home, we'd get asgood results out of dozens less letters. "

"They make as good use of their extra letters as they do of theirextra bullets, " Carew returned tranquilly. "They've been sniping, all the morning long, and they have only hit a man and a quarternow. "

"Which was the quarter?"

Turning, Carew displayed a jagged hole in his left sleeve. Weldonlaughed unfeelingly. 

"Can't you keep out of range, you old target? If there's a bulletcoming your way, it's bound to graze you. "

"This is only the fourth. Only one of those really meant business. Oh, hang it! There they go again!" he burst out, as a distant lineof rocks crackled explosively and, a moment later, a random bulletopened up the side of his shoe. 

With the swift change of occupation to which the past four monthshad accustomed them, they were soon in the saddle and galloping offacross the rolling veldt. Before them, a pair of guns were poundingaway at the rocky line and its flanking bushes, and beyond, over thecrest of the next ridge, scores of thick-set, burly figures wereracing in search of shelter, with a fragment of the Scottish Horsein hot pursuit. 

Neck and neck in the vanguard raced Weldon and Carew, with CaptainFrazer's huge khaki-colored horse hard on their heels. To Weldon, the next hour was one of fierce excitement and pleasure. The shriekof the shells, long since left behind, the flying figures beforethem, the rise and fall of his own gray little broncho as shestretched herself to measure the interminable veldt, the khaki-coloreddesert, dotted with huge black rocks and shimmering with theheat waves which rose above it towards the midday sun: his pulsestingled and his head throbbed with the glorious rush of it all. 

And then the slouching figures were met by other slouching figures, and reluctantly Weldon drew in his horse, as the halt was ordered. Only madness would prolong the chase against such heavy odds. Meresanity demanded that the troopers should delay until the column cameup. The action must wait, while the heliograph flashed its call forhelp. Weldon grumbled low into Carew's ear, as the minutes draggedthemselves along, broken only by indeterminate volleys. 

"I have exactly five rounds left, " he said at length. "I believe inobedience, Carew; but, when I get this used up, by jingo, I'll pitchinto those fellows on my own account. "

"Keep cool, " Carew advised him temperately. "You always were athriftless fellow; you must have been wasting your fire. Oh, I say, what's the row in the rear?"

"The column, most likely. It's time, too. Those fellows would be onus in a minute. Ah ha!" And Weldon drew a quick breath ofadmiration, as the guns came up at the gallop under the watchful eyeof the Imperial Yeomanry. 

Once in position on a rise to the left, quickly the guns unlimberedand opened fire, while the sergeants gathered around the boxes ofspare cartridges on the ground beside the panting ammunition horse. Then at last came the order for the advance, the order so eagerlyawaited by Weldon, maddened by his long exposure to the bullets ofhis unseen foe. In extended order, the squadrons galloped forwarduntil their goal was a scant five hundred yards away, when of asudden a murderous fire broke out from the rocks in front of them, emptying many a saddle and dropping many a horse. Under suchconditions, safety lay only in an unswerving charge. 

Close on their leaders' heels, the troopers spurred forward and, revolver in right hand, rifle in left, they charged over theremaining bit of ground and into the midst of the Boer position. Briton and Boer met, face to face. Revolvers cracked; Boers dropped. 

Mausers crashed; Britons fell. And then, through and over, theBritish charge had passed. 

Even then Weldon found no place for pause. From behind the Boerposition, a band of their reinforcements came galloping down uponhim. Caught between the two lines, the squadrons wheeled about, fellagain upon the broken enemy, dashed through them and, amid theleaden hail, retired upon their own guns. And now once more thegunners could reopen fire, and the shells dropped thick and fast. The moment for a general advance had come. In open order, a thousandmen dashed forward and reached the ridge, only to see the retiringfoe galloping away in all directions across the open veldt. A haltwas ordered, to rest the winded mounts. Pickets were thrown out onfront and flank, while the British awaited their approaching convoy. That night, the column rested upon the veldt at Vlaakfontein. 

After the rush of the day, its hope and its succeedingdisappointment, Weldon was long in falling asleep. Carew was out onpicket; Captain Frazer, coat off and sleeves rolled to hisshoulders, was busy among the wounded, and Weldon had cared to makefew other close friends in the squadron. Around him, he could hearthe murmurs of other sleepless ones; but he lay silent, his armsunder his head, his face turned upward to the shining perspective ofthe stars. In similar perspective there ranged them-selves beforehis mind the events of the past twelve weeks. 

Already the month at Piquetberg Road seemed a chapter out of anothervolume. It had culminated in that languid afternoon spent around thetea-table under the wattle tree in the garden, culminated there andalso ended there. With the unexpectedness that marks all things in atime of war, the next noon found him steaming across the Cape Flats, with Maitland in sight. Two days later, they were loaded on an emptyhospital ship returning to Durban. Piquetberg Road was child's playnow, for the front was almost in sight. The voyage had been beastly;but after it had come the real beginning of things. Natal, in thosedays of late February, had seemed deserving of its name, a trueGarden of Africa. The crossing was now a memory of heavy grades, ofverdant country, of ripened fruits. There had been the week's delayat Pietermaritzburg where they had tasted a bit of civilization inthe intervals of completing their outfits; there had been the briefstop at Ladysmith, already recovered from her hardships of the yearbefore, then the crossing the border into the Transvaal where theverdure slowly vanished to give place to the dreary wastes of red-brownveldt. At Johannesburg, he had manufactured an excuse for along letter to Ethel who--

"Show a leg there!"

The sergeant's voice at his ear called him back to the realities oflife. He sat up as alertly as if he had slept upon eider-down. 

By eight o'clock, Weldon was out on the veldt, two miles from camp. Before him, a force of Yeomanry was guarding the two guns; aroundhim, a detail from his own squadron protected the flank on theright. And, still farther to the right, a cloud of yellowish smokerose skyward across the yellower sunshine. Then, of a sudden, outfrom the heart of the wall of smoke came a muffled thud and roar, confused at first, growing strident and more detached until, sweeping from the haze of smoke, five score Boer horsemen rode in abolt-like rush, fierce and uncheckable. Without swerving to right orleft, they charged straight towards the Yeomanry drawn up beside theguns, drove them back and shot down the gunners almost to a man. Aninstant later, the guns were whirled about and trained upon theirquondam owners. 

From over his breakfast, that morning, the General raised his headto listen to the booming of the fifteen-pounders. No need to tellhim that heavy fighting had begun. His experienced ear had taughthim that magazine firing meant business. His hand went in search ofhis field-glasses. 

"General, the enemy have captured the guns. The Major asks forassistance to retake them. "

The General lowered his glasses. Covered with dust, and breathless, Weldon was before him. 

"Mount every available man, and gallop to the scene of action!"

Orderlies carried the command to the different regiments. Before themounted men could start, the infantry were half-way to the guns. Butalready shells were falling into the camp, telling every man thatthe guns were in the hands of the Boers. 

In the forefront of the remainder of his squadron, Weldon foundhimself borne onward in the rush, straight from the camp to theright flank of the guns. The broncho's swinging trot had long sincechanged to a gallop, and her eyes were flashing with the wickedlight of her old, unbroken days, as she went tearing across thesun-baked veldt, up and down over the rises and through the rare bits ofthicket at a pace which Weldon would have been powerless to check. He had no mind to check it. The crisp air, full of ozone and warmedby the sun, set his cheeks to tingling with its impact. A truerider, he let his mood follow the temper of his horse and, like apair of wild things, they went bolting away far towards the head ofthe squadrons. 

And always the firing of the guns grew nearer and faster and moremurderous. 

He took no note of passing moments, none of the miles he had riddenduring the past days. These counted for naught, while, withphotographic distinctness, the picture before him fixed itselfsharply in his mind: the dust-colored troops on the dusty veldt, thebrown-painted guns, the distant line of the enemy's fire and, far tothe eastward, the wall of smoke which was fast sweeping towards themfrom the acres of burning veldt. 

"Captain Frazer, the General orders you to take up your position inthe kraal on the extreme right, and to hold it at any cost. "

From his place at the Captain's side, Weldon glanced at the orderly, then, turning, looked across the veldt to the four gray wallssurrounding the clump of trees a mile away. His hand tightened onthe curb, and he straightened in the saddle, as the Captain led theway into the purgatory beyond, an orderly purgatory, but crossedwith leaden lines of shot and shell. 

At such moments, the brain ceases to act coherently. When Weldoncame to himself, he was kneeling behind the old gray wall, revolverin hand, firing full in the faces of the Boer horsemen, scarcefifteen feet away. Carew, his right foot dangling, had been hustledto the rear of the kraal where the gray broncho and her mates werein comparative shelter. 

"Weldon?"

He looked up in a half-dazed fashion. The wall of smoke was alreadyshutting down about the retreating Boers. Beside him stood theCaptain, his yellow hair clinging to his dripping face, his blueeyes, under their fringe of black lashes, glittering like polishedgems. Coated as he was with dust and sweat, his clothing torn andspotted with the fray, he looked ten times more the gallantgentleman, even, than when he had met Weldon in the heart-shapedbit of lawn encircled by the Dents' driveway. Now he held out hishand. 

"Splendidly done, old man! One doesn't forget such things. "

CHAPTER NINE

Captain Frazer had scarcely finished speaking, when the voice of theGeneral sounded in their ears. 

"A plucky attack and a plucky defeat, Captain Frazer. Kemp is a manworth fighting. You are not wounded?"

"Thanks to Trooper Weldon, " the Captain told him, with a smile. 

The General's keen glance included them both. 

"Good! And now can you spare me a trusty man? One who can ride? Imust have some despatches at Krugersdorp before midnight. I shouldlike some one from your squadron. "

The eyes of Captain Frazer and Weldon met. Again the General's keenglance was on them both; then it concentrated itself upon theyounger man. 

"I am ready, " he answered to its unspoken question. 

"You are sure you are fit? It is forty miles, and the rain will beon us inside of an hour. "

"It makes no difference. "

As he spoke, Weldon felt himself surveyed from hat to shoelace. 

"Very well. Get yourself fed, and come to my tent in an hour. Itwill be better to wait until dusk before starting, for these hillsare infested with Boers. Do you know the country?"

"Partly. I can learn the rest. "

"You need a remount. "

Weldon stroked the little gray broncho. 

"If I had my own horse. Otherwise, I prefer this. I can trust her, even if she is tired. "

Again the glance swept him over, beginning at the boyish face, resolute and eager beneath its streaks of red-brown dust. Then, asWeldon saluted, the General turned and rode away, with the Captainat his side. 

"You've the making of a man there, Captain Frazer, " was his solecomment. 

Weldon, meanwhile, was allowing the little gray broncho to pick herown dainty way out of the shambles about her feet. Then, once freefrom the litter of men and horses, he turned her head to the spotwhere, he had been told, his squadron were gathering together theirdiminished forces. As he rode slowly onward, he was surprised to seehow low the sun had dropped. The fighting must have lasted longerthan he had thought. It had been hot and heavy; but at least he hadnot funked it. For so much he could be thankful. In so far as hecould recall any of his emotions as he had dashed into range of thepitiless firing, they had been summed up in a dull rage against theenemy, mingled with a vague hope that no harm should come to theplucky little mount. Just one instant's pause he could remember. That was when he had put forth all his strength to check her paceuntil he could readjust a strap that was plainly galling her. Andafterwards? Not even the thoroughbred Nig could have played her partin the fight with more steady gallantry. Stooping, he eased the bitand patted the firm gray neck where the mane swept upward for itsarching fall. 

"Boss?"

He straightened in his saddle. 

"Kruger Bobs! By all special providences, where did you come from?"

"Naauwpoort. Kruger Bobs come bring Nig to Boss. "

"Kruger Bobs, you're a genius. "

Kruger Bobs vanished behind his smile. 

"Ya, Boss, " he replied then. "Boss all right?"

"Yes, all right. "

"Dutchmans no killed Boss?"

"No. "

Doubtfully Kruger Bobs shook his sable bristles. He had heard thefiring, such firing as he had never dreamed of until then, and itseemed to him impossible that any man could come unscathed out ofthe heart of it. Of Weldon's being in the very heart of it, no doubthad once stained the loyal whiteness of his soul. To assure himselfof Weldon's safety, he ambled around the gray broncho in a clumsycircle. The gray broncho showed her appreciation of the attention bynipping viciously at the flank of his horse. By Weldon's left side, Kruger Bobs halted and pointed an accusing forefinger at his knee. 

"Dutchmans hurt Boss, " he said anxiously. 

"Where?"

"Dere. " In spite of his effort for sternness, the voice of KrugerBobs quavered with anxiety. 

Bending over, Weldon glanced down at the dark red stain on the coilof khaki serge. Then, all at once, he remembered the sudden stingingof his leg, just before he had started the gray broncho on her lastmad rush across the lead-swept plain. In the excitement thatfollowed, the matter had entirely passed out of his mind. Even nowthat his attention was called to it, he was conscious of no physicaldiscomfort. 

"Kruger Bobs go for doctor?" the boy was urging. 

Weldon laughed reassuringly. 

"It's nothing, Kruger Bobs. I've no time to fool with doctors now. "

"What Boss do?"

"Feed Piggie, eat something, look up Mr. Carew and then get to theGeneral's tent, inside an hour. "

"What for de big boss soldier?"

"He wants me. "

"Ya?" Kruger Bobs demanded uneasily. 

"To ride a despatch. "

"Despatch!" Kruger Bobs exploded in hot wrath. "Kruger Bobs godespatch; Boss go bed. " "Can't do it, Kruger Bobs. This is war, andI've given my word to the General. It was an order, and I had to doit. " Backing his horse off for a step or two, Kruger Bobs satlooking at his master and shaking his head mournfully. Then hestraightened in the saddle. 

"Boss go; Kruger Bobs go, too, " he said, with steady decision. 

Less than an hour later, outside the General's tent Kruger Bobs satastride The Nig, with the rein of the gray broncho in his hand. Theclouds, since noon banked low in the eastern horizon, had swept upacross the sky, and already the rain was pattering drearily over thehunched-up shoulders of Kruger Bobs. Inside the tent, the colloquywas brief. Twice Weldon repeated over the substance of hisdespatches and his instructions regarding their destination. Thedespatches were slipped between the layers of his shoe-sole, the cutstitches were replaced, and Weldon rose to his feet. 

"My nigger has come from Naauwpoort, bringing me a fresh mount, " hesaid then. "May I take him with me?"

"What is he?"

"A Kaffir. "

"From where?"

"Piquetberg Road. "

"Can you trust him?"

Weldon's eyes met the eyes of the General steadily. "As I wouldtrust myself, " he answered. 

Five minutes later, Weldon passed out of the tent door. At hisquarters, he dismounted and went in search of a blanket. Muffled inthe thick folds, the horses' feet would make no sound on thehard-baked earth. Kruger Bobs, meanwhile, went out to reconnoitre inorder to discover a possible gap in the line of Boer pickets. 

The pickets once passed, Weldon mounted once more and, with KrugerBobs following close behind, rode carefully away into the inky, drizzling night. For the first hour, he rode steadily and withcomparative comfort. The excitement of the battle was still in hisblood, its noises ringing in his head, its sights dancing likewill-o'-the-wisps before his eyes. Later, the inevitable reaction wouldfollow, and the inevitable weariness. Now, refreshed by theirsupper, both he and the broncho had come to their second wind, andthey faced the storm pluckily and with unbowed heads. Beside him, The Nig, fresh and fit as a horse could be, galloped onward steadilyunder the weight of Kruger Bobs. It had been at Weldon's own commandthat Kruger Bobs had abandoned his raw-boned steed and placedhimself astride the sacred body of the thoroughbred Nig. On such anight and after such a battle, a horse abandoned was a horse foreverlost. Neither The Nig nor Piggie could be left to any chanceownership, but neither could Piggie, fresh from a two-day fight, beleft to the mercies of an inexperienced rider. Three inches shorterthan his master, Kruger Bobs weighed fifty pounds the more, and herode with the resilient lightness of a feather bed. 

Weldon's hour of rest had been divided in strict ratio betweenhimself, his friend and his horse. For fully half that period, heand Kruger Bobs had rubbed the sturdy gray legs and anointed thescratched neck with supplies taken from the portable veterinaryhospital always to be found in the recesses of the Kaffirs scantygarments. Then, snatching a hasty meal, with the last of it still inhis hands, Weldon strode away to look for Carew. He found him, bandaged but jovial, a shattered bone in his foot and his pipe inhis shut teeth. Fortunately the pain bore no relation to theseriousness of the case, and Weldon left him to his pipe, cheered bythe doctor's assurance that two or three weeks would bring him backinto fighting trim. Carew's own disrespectful comments on theinjured foot were still in his ears, as he entered the tent of theGeneral. 

By degrees, the night grew dark and darker. Riding eastward withtheir backs to the southerly storm, nevertheless now and again thewind swirled about fiercely, to send the lashing rain against theirfaces. Under their feet, the dusty veldt turned to mire, from mireto a pasty glue, and from glue to the consistency of cream. Bottomthere was none; the bottomlessness of it only became more apparentwhen one or other of the horses stumbled into the hole of anant-bear. Twice the gray broncho was on her knees; once The Nig camedown so sharply that Kruger Bobs rolled forward out of his saddle, to land on his back, nose to nose with his astonished mount. Worstof all, the fever of the fight was dying out from Weldon's veins. His pulses were slowing down, and the ceaseless jar of the graybroncho's gallop waked his wounded leg to a pain which fast becameintolerable. 

Kruger Bobs edged closer to his side. 

"Boss sick?" he asked. 

"Not altogether content, Kruger Bobs. "

"Leg?" the boy questioned anxiously. 

"Yes; that--and some other things. "

"Me help Boss?"

"No, thank you. I'd better let the mess alone. "

"Boss ride Nig?" Kruger Bobs suggested, in the hushed tone in whichall their talk had been carried on. 

"It is better not to change. "

The silence broadened, broken only by the splashing of eight hoofsin the ever-deepening mire, and by the sighing squeak of wet straprubbing on wet strap. Then Kruger Bobs spoke again. 

"Paddy send, " he said, as he poked a soft parcel into Weldon'sdangling hand. "He say 'Give it to little Canuck. '"

Weldon felt and tasted his way into the parcel. It was large, andfilled with savory bits which Paddy must have gleaned here and therefrom the general mess, robbing freely from many a greater man, allfor the sake of the "little Canuck. "

It was no time for the discipline which bids a servant eat of thecrumbs from his master's table. For the hour, Kruger Bobs and hewere friends, bound upon one and the same errand. With impartialhand, Weldon tore the paper across and divided its contents. He onlyregretted that convention had forbidden him the trick of smackinghis lips in sign of relish. It would have been good to have theability of Kruger Bobs to give audible token of his appreciation ofPaddy's bounty. 

Somewhat refreshed, he straightened in his saddle. 

"Now be careful, Kruger Bobs. There are Boers in these hills, " hewarned his companion; "and it would never do for us to be sniped. "

Kruger Bobs came close to his side. 

"Dutchmans kill Kruger Bobs, no matter; kill Boss, no take despatch. Boss say to Kruger Bobs where de despatch. Kruger Bobs take him toKrugersdorp, if Boss die. "

And Weldon shivered a little, as the silence dropped again. 

The ridges were steeper now, and came in more swift succession, asthe horsemen plodded wearily along the southern slope of the Rand. Piggie was breathing heavily; and Weldon, clinging to his saddlewith the purely mechanical grip of the exhausted rider, halted againand again to rest the plucky little animal whose best was always hisfor the asking. Of his own condition he took no heed. It was all inthe game. He would play the game out as long as he could; but hislast move should be, as his first had been, strictly according torule. Meanwhile, for two facts he was at a loss to account. Dawningwas still hours distant. Nevertheless, the darkness before him wasblotted and blurred with alternating waves of blue and gray. Theveldt was empty; yet, above the roar of the rain around him, an oddpurring sound was in his ears. Then everything lost itself in hisdetermination not to allow the saddle to slip from between his tiredknees. 

He roused himself at the challenging voice of a picket. 

"Despatches for General Kekewich, " he answered, in a voice whichseemed to his own ears to have come from miles away. 

"Advance and give the countersign. "

Irritably he gathered himself together. 

"I can't, I tell you. I don't know your blasted countersign. I'vedespatches from Dixon to General Kekewich. Take me to him at once. "

The colloquy lasted for moments, in a drawn battle of determination. Its stimulus had waked Weldon from his lethargy; it had also wakedagain that fierce and throbbing pain below his knee. He left thesentry in no doubt, either of the truth of his statement, or of hismood. Then, with Kruger Bobs at his side, he plodded forward towardsthe lights of the town, while he braced himself for a final effort. 

Fifteen minutes later, he reached the second line of pickets. Thegray broncho's head drooped pitifully, as Weldon sat waiting for theinevitable challenge. It came at last; and Weldon's answering voicewas slow with a weakness which was not all feigned. 

"Despatches from Dixon's column. Take me to the Commandant, please. "

He was dimly aware of a hand on his bridle, dimly conscious thatPiggie was being led forward for a seemingly endless distance. Asthey halted in front of a gray stone building, Weldon dimly heardthe tingling of many bells within, then the hurried opening of awindow, and a voice demanding the cause of the disturbance below. Hefelt himself going fast; but, gripping his will with all his might, he pulled himself together long enough to answer, --

"Despatches for General Kekewich between the soles of my left boot. "

Then he pitched forward on his broncho's neck. 

CHAPTER TEN

"Twelve inches make one foot, six feet make one man, sixty men makeone troop, four troops make one squadron, " the monotonous voice ranon. Then it came to an unexpected finale. "And three squadrons makethe Boer army run. "

The man in the next bed giggled. His wound was in his shoulder, andit had left his sense of humor unimpaired. As a rule, the fightingrecords of the wounded never came inside that long, bed-borderedroom; but there were few within it now who were ignorant of theplucky ride made by the lean, boyish-looking Canadian trooper. Apart of the story had come by way of the doctor in charge of theambulance train which had brought him from Krugersdorp toJohannesburg, a part of it had come from the trooper's own lips, andthat was the most tragic part of it all. 

Below, in the courtyard of the hospital, Kruger Bobs squatted on hisheels in the sun and waited. Now and then, he vanished to look afterthe creature comforts of The Nig and the little gray broncho; nowand then he shuffled forward to demand news from some passer-bywhose sleeve was banded with the Red-Cross badge. Then he shuffledback to his former post and sat himself down on his heels once more. Kruger Bobs possessed the racial traits which make it an easy matterto sit and wait for news. He was also an optimist. Nevertheless, hisface now was overcast and rarely did it vanish behind the spreadinglimits of his smile. 

For four days, Weldon lay prostrate and babbled of all things, past, present and to come. Three names dotted his babblings. One was thatof his mother, one of his captain, and the third that of Ethel Dent. With all three of them, he appeared to be upon the best of terms. Finally, on the fifth day, he suddenly waked to the fact that awoman was bending above him, to wipe his face with a damp sponge. 

He was too weak to rise. Nevertheless, he straightened himself intoa rigid line, and addressed her with dignity. 

"I beg your pardon. Please don't wash my face for me, " he said, ingrave displeasure. 

She smiled down at him, with the air of a mother smiling at afretful child. The smile irritated him. 

"Doesn't it refresh you?" she asked quietly. 

"No, " he answered, with flat, ungracious, mendacity. 

"I am sorry. You have been sleeping heavily, and--"

He felt his mind slipping out of his own grasp, and he strove tohold it in his keeping. 

"No matter now, " he interrupted hastily. "Please get me--"

She waited in silence. Then she asked encouragingly, --

"What shall I get you?"

The mind was almost gone; but still he held fast to the edge of it, as he murmured, --

"Some bully beef. "

The nurse turned away. Her lips were smiling; but her eyes clouded, as the babbling began once more. 

Twenty-four hours later, she was greeted by a white-faced, clear-headed trooper. 

"Good-morning, nurse, " he said coolly. "You see I am better. "

"Much better, Mr. Weldon, " she assented cordially. He lookedpuzzled. "I thought we fellows in hospital had no names, nothing butnumbers, " he answered. 

"It depends. When one meets an old friend, the number isn't quitethe right name for him. "

Turning slightly, he stared up at her with the impassive curiosityof a man just coming back from The Unknown. Then he shook his head. 

"I am afraid--" he began slowly. 

With a quick gesture, she took off her crisp white cap, uncovering aheavy pile of ink-black hair. "There!" she said, with a smile. "Doesthat make me look more natural, Mr. Weldon? I am Alice Mellen, CooeeDent's cousin. "

Instantly he put out his hand, sunburned still, but curiously thin. The smile on his lips was the boyish, frank smile which Alice hadseen and liked, that afternoon in the garden at home. 

"What good angel brings you here?" he asked eagerly. 

"No angel; merely the lady who rules over the household of Mars. Iam glad to find you again, even if the Johannesburg hospital isn't agood place for a man. But you mustn't talk now. Later, we can makeup for lost time. "

Impetuously his fingers shut on a fold of her apron. Then his nativeinstincts and his years of training asserted themselves, and he letgo once more. Nevertheless, his eyes were appealing. 

"Don't go. "

"But I must, " she answered, her hands busy with her cap. 

Her tone showed that, like himself, she too had learned the meaningof an order. He yielded to its quiet firmness. 

"If you must. But, before you go, tell me this: have I been off myhead?"

She nodded in assent. 

He frowned. 

"Sorry, " he said briefly. "Please answer me honestly. Have I mumbledthings and made a blasted fool of myself?"

It was still two days before he was allowed to talk to his ownsatisfaction. Then, one afternoon in her rest hour, Alice Mellen lethim have his way and, seated by his cot, she answered tersely to araking fire of terse questions. 

"How long have I been here?"

"Just a week. "

"How did I get here?"

"Hospital train from Krugersdorp. "

"What for?"

"You had a touch of fever. We could treat you better here. " Herreplies were man-like in their brevity. 

"Fever? I thought it was a Mauser bullet. "

"It was. Your leg was not so bad; but the long ride and the exposureto the storm--"

He interrupted her. 

"What do you know about my ride?" he asked. 

Her answer showed that the woman was not lost in the nurse. 

"Everybody knows of your ride. Even in these days of plucky deeds, we are proud of you. "

He shook his head, though the color came into his cheeks, brownbeneath their pallor. 

"It was nothing. I did my duty. "

"So Kruger Bobs has informed us. "

"Kruger Bobs? Is he here?"

This time, she laughed outright. 

"I should say he was. For a week, he has been sitting exactly in thepath of the doctors, waiting for news. Twice he has been orderedoff; but he merely hitches over to the other end of the steps andrefuses to budge farther. We discovered him, the first night youwere here, by having the bead surgeon fall headlong over him, as hewent down the steps. Kruger Bobs doesn't show up well, on a darknight. "

Weldon clasped his hands at the back of his head. 

"If I thought you were using American slang, Miss Mellen, I shouldcontradict you, " he answered, with a touch of his old humor. "I canremember at least one dark night when Kruger Bobs made an excellentshowing. "

She nodded. 

"We have bad a few Americans here before, Mr. Weldon. I think Iunderstand. "

"How long have you been here?" he asked, after a pause. 

"Ten weeks. "

"And you like it?"

"Why else should I be here?"

"From a sense of duty. "

"Is that what brought you out?"

"No. My coming was inevitable. It seemed a part of me that Icouldn't help. "

"But you wished to come?" she queried. 

"Of course. But that was only a Dart of it. I have wished to dothings before, and have done them. This was quite different. It allseemed a part of Fate, and I walked through it, like a puppet withsomebody else's hand pulling the strings. " He paused and shook hishead. "It is no use. I can't make you understand it. I acted freelyand did just what I chose; but yet, all the time, I felt as if ithad all been arranged for me, whole generations ago. "

Thoughtfully she bent forward, straightened the coverings above hiswounded leg; then sat up again. Then she shook her head a littleregretfully. 

"No, " she said. "I am afraid I don't understand. Perhaps it isbecause I am selfish; but I usually feel as if I made my plans, regardless of Fate. "

"What about our meeting here?" he asked quizzically. 

She answered in the same tone. 

"Wait until we see what comes out of it. Fate, if one believes insuch a thing, only works in an endless chain. "

"And the broken links?"

"According to your notion, there should be none, " she retorted. "Fate ought to be a better workman than that. "

"Than what?"

"Than spoiling her work as she goes along. If there's any chain atall, it should be endless and durable. But a man with a Mauser holein his leg and a fever in his head has no business to be talking ofFate. Let's talk about Ethel, instead. "

He settled himself back comfortably. 

"Perhaps it amounts to the same thing, in the long run. "

"Perhaps. I don't see how, though. Anyway, Ethel wouldn't be pleasedwith the notion. She is absolutely independent, and generallyarranges things according to her own sweet will. "

"Where is she now?"

"In Cape Town, " Alice answered, quite unaware of her own lack oftruth. 

"And well?"

"Gloriously. In fact, as far as I can learn, Cooee always is well. Just now she is having a wonderfully gay time. Since Lord Robertswent back to England, Cape Town has been full of people, restingthere before sailing for home. "

"Resting?"

"Haven't they earned the right?" she questioned, in swift challengeto the quiet scorn in his tone. 

"Even if the battles are over, the fighting isn't, " he answeredtersely. "The glory doesn't lie entirely in the pulverizing the Boerarmy; there's a little left for the men who are sweeping up thepieces. "

Her trained eye saw the rising color in his face. Swiftly shechanged the subject. 

"Glory for all, enough and to spare, " she replied. "But, as I say, Cape Town is crowded with officers, lying up for repairs, and Ethelis queen bee among them. It's not only for herself; it is what youwould call Fate. She happens to be the only girl of her set who isjust out from London; she had met a good many of them there, and nowshe is holding a veritable salon. She even has one sacred teacup, set up on a high shelf ever since the day that Baden-Powell usedit. "

Weldon smiled. 

"Miss Dent is a hero-worshipper, " he commented. 

"So are we all, in certain directions. Moreover, most women liketheir heroes to have a little personality. One can't make one'sadmiration stick to a blank wall of impersonal perfection. "

Weldon's mind moved swiftly backwards to two blue, black-fringedeyes glowing out from a dust-streaked face. 

"No, " he assented; "but neither can one ever really be chums withhis hero. Or, even if he can, he doesn't care to try theexperiment. "

Alice glanced at her watch, rose, then lingered. 

"I am not so sure of that, " she replied thoughtfully. "I want thepedestal of my hero to be a low one; and Cooee declares that shewishes no pedestal at all. If her hero is worthy of the name, hemust bear inspection even from above. The worst flaw of all mightlurk in the very crown of his head. "

Half an hour later, she came back again. 

"Mr. Weldon, do you feel strong enough to see Kruger Bobs forexactly five minutes?" she asked. 

The gray eyes lighted. 

"For ten times five, " he answered eagerly. 

Kruger Bobs shuffled in upon the heels of an orderly. Under hisbristly hair, his face was a study of mingled emotions whichculminated in his mouth. A grin of pure happiness had drawn up theupper lip; at sight of his prostrate master, the lower one wasrolling outward in a sudden wave of pure pity. Beside the cot, hehalted and stood looking down at Weldon with eyes which, for themoment, transformed his lazy, jolly, simian face into a species ofnobility. Lying back on his pillow, Weldon waited for him to speak, waited with an odd, restless beating of the heart for which he waswholly at a loss to account. 

The pause between them lengthened. At last Kruger Bobs drew hismangy brown felt hat across his eyes. 

"I's here, Boss, " he said simply. 

However, it was enough. 

The next morning found Weldon sitting up. A clean-cut hole throughthe flesh of a man who has lived a clean-cut life is swift inhealing. Now that his fever had left him, his superb vitality wasasserting itself once more, and he rallied quickly. Meanwhile, itwas good to be able to sit up and eat his breakfast like a civilizedbeing. Weldon had all the detestation of the average healthy beingfor invalid ways. Moreover, he longed to be up and doing. With hisgrowing strength, the orderly, noiseless routine of the hospitalcame upon his nerves. One of the nurses always walked on the pointsof her toes; and he was conscious of a wild longing to throw apillow at her, as she went diddling to and fro past him, a dozentimes a day. The doctor, a man of iron nerve and velvet hand, was adaily delight to him. And there was always Alice, frank, friendlyand altogether enjoyable. During the past three days, their likinghad grown apace. Absolutely feminine, yet with the healthyimpersonality of a growing boy, Alice Mellen was a born comrade, andWeldon enjoyed her just as, in her place, he would have enjoyedCarew. 

She came down the ward, that morning, and paused beside his chair. 

"You look like your old self at last, " she said, as she held out herhand in congratulation. 

"I might echo your words, " he answered, while he looked up into hereyes, shining with merriment and with something that yet seemed tohim closely akin to annoyance. "Granted the apron, you might bepouring tea at home. "

"Not tea; but malted milk, in these latter days, " she said, laughing. "But I am about to retire from your case. May I introduceyour new nurse, Mr. Weldon?"

His reluctant assent was changed to eager greeting. Light, swiftsteps came down the room; a tall figure stopped at his side in thefull glare of a sunshiny window which all at once seemed focussingits light upon waving strands and heaped-up coils of vivid yellowhair. 

"Cooee!" Then, too late, he bethought himself of his manners andtried to bite the word off short. 

Linking her arm in that of her cousin, the girl stood looking downat him with merry, mocking blue eyes. 

"Invalids are supposed to have privileges denied to well men, " sheanswered demurely. "It might perhaps be Cooee here, to-day; but itwill have to be Miss Dent, to-morrow, when you are back in the fieldagain. After all, it is hardly worth while to make the change, Trooper Weldon. "

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Upon one side, at least, the meeting between the two cousins on theprevious night had been wholly unexpected. 

Late that afternoon, an ambulance train had come in, loaded with menfrom the over-crowded field hospital at Krugersdorp, and for hoursAlice had been in ceaseless attendance upon the surgeon in charge. Little by little, the girl had found her nerves steadying down tothe task in hand; nevertheless, the past ten weeks, in return forthe increase of her poise, had taken something from her vitality. Quickness of eye, firmness of hand, evenness of temper: all thesemay be gifts of the gods. Their use is a purely human function, andproportionately exhausting. The girl's one salvation lay in the factthat her quick sympathy with her patients was for the most partimpersonal. Up to this time, Weldon had been her only patient whomshe had known outside the routine duties of her hospital life. In asense, it had been a relief to meet some one whom she knew to be ofher own world; in a sense, the case had worn upon her acutely. Shecould watch with a greater degree of stolidity the sufferings ofother men. 

Among her new charges, that day, only one had made any distinctimpression upon her overworked brain. That was a jovial youngfellow, handsome as Phoebus Apollo, in spite of a slashing scaracross one cheek. He had answered to her questions regarding hiswounded foot with an accent so like that of Weldon thatinvoluntarily she lingered beside him to add a word of cheeryconsolation. His was her final case, that night. As she wearilyturned towards her own room, she made no effort to analyze herexhaustion. 

She found Ethel, still in her hat and jacket, sitting on the edge ofher own narrow cot. 

"Cooee Dent!"

"Yes, dear. " The girl's tone was nonchalant, even while the telltalecolor came into her cheeks. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Visiting you, of course. "

"Visiting me! But, Cooee, I really don't know where I can put you. "

With perfect composure, Ethel passed her hand over the surface ofthe cot. 

"Oh, I think this nutmeg-grater will carry two. Still, Alice, I mustsay that your hospitality isn't exactly exuberant. "

Alice dropped into a chair and wearily pushed her hair still fartherback from her forehead. 

"But, Cooee--"

"Aren't you glad to see me?" Ethel demanded. 

"Certainly. You are always a dear; but--I wish I had known you werecoming. "

Ethel raised her brows, and a slight edge came into her voice. 

"If you don't want me, Alice, I can go home in the morning. "

Dimly aware that her cousin was fencing with an invisible adversary, nevertheless Alice Mellen was too tired, that night, to rangeherself upon the side of that adversary. As far as she wasconcerned, Ethel had dropped upon her like a bolt from the blue. Shewas too busy, too absorbed in her patients to give more than apassing thought to even her most intimate cousin. And besides, Weldon--She pulled herself together sharply. 

"Of course I want you, Cooee dear. It is only a bit sudden, and I amtrying to think what to do with you. "

Now and then Ethel turned wayward. This was one of the times. 

"If you didn't know what to do with me, Alice, then why did you askme to come?"

"But I didn't, " Alice responded, too astonished to modify her denialinto a polite form of fibbing. 

Ethers tone was gently superior. 

"Oh, yes; you did. "

"When?"

"When you were leaving home. You said then that I must be sure tocome up to spend a week with you, early in the winter. " Then heraccent changed. "You poor tired child!" she said, as she rose andcrossed to her cousin's side. "This work is too hard for you; youlook as if you had been fighting the Boers themselves, instead ofmerely enteric and bullet holes. I think it is just as well that Iam here to look out for you, for a few days. "

Alice lifted her hand to the hand that lay against her cheek. 

"I am glad to see you, Cooee dear. I am only so surprised that itmakes me slow to tell you so. If you can sleep here, to-night, I canfind a better place for you in the morning. "

"This will do, " Ethel answered, while she slowly drew the pins fromher hat. "It is neat, even if it isn't spacious. Really, Alice, Ishould have let you know; but it was only just as I was startingthat I found I could come at all. Father is at home, and mother isunusually well, and I thought I would best make the most of theopportunity. "

Crossing the room to the table, she stood with her back to hercousin, while she smoothed the feathers in her hat. Then, withoutturning, she asked abruptly, --

"How is Mr. Weldon?"

"Better. "

"Out of all danger?"

"Yes. Not that he has been in much danger, anyway. "

"Oh, I thought--"

Then silence fell. 

Alice, meanwhile, was busy with a swift calculation. Five days, inthese troubled times, for a letter to go from Johannesburg to CapeTown; five days since Ethel could have left Cape Town. And her oneletter to Ethel since Weldon's arrival had been posted just threedays before. 

"How did you know Mr. Weldon was here?" she asked sharply. 

Ethel's back was still turned towards her. Nevertheless, she couldsee the scarlet tide mounting to the ears and to the roots of thevivid gold hair. 

"Why, your letter, Alice, " Ethel answered composedly. 

Alice's laugh was sharp and edged with malice. 

"Yes, dear. My letter, telling you of his being here, will bedelivered at your house to-morrow morning. "

"Oh, then I must have mixed things up, " Ethel replied, as she turnedto face her cousin. "Probably Captain Frazer told me. "

"Captain Frazer?"

"Yes, he came down to Cape Town, just before I left there. Iremember now, he was the one who told me. He was near Mr. Weldon atVlaakfontein; he knew all about his awful ride into Krugersdorp, andI believe he did say he was to be brought here. "

For a moment more, the two pairs of eyes, the blue and the black, met in steady warfare, neither one yielding in the least, neitherone quite aware how much she was betraying to the other. 

"Well, what of it?" Ethel demanded tempestuously then. 

"Nothing, only--are you sure you were wise to come?"

The blue eyes blazed. 

"And what do you mean by that, Alice? You asked me to visit youhere, to see your work among your patients. I have come. If I cameat all, it had to be now. I can't always leave home for a week at atime. And I can't help it, can I, if Mr. Weldon happens to be one ofyour patients?"

"No; you can't, " Alice admitted slowly. "It only remains to be seenwhether you would care to help it, if you could. "

Again Ethel crossed the room. This time, she dropped down at hercousin's side. 

"Don't let us argue about it and get cross at each other, dear. If Ihave made a mistake in coming now, I am sorry. But I am here. Let mestay a few days; I may be able to help you a little. Anyway, Ipromise not to be a trouble to you. It is so long since I have seenyou, Alice. And--" Again the silence dropped. 

Alice roused herself from the reverie which was creeping over her. She was glad to see Ethel, unfeignedly glad. The bright, animatedpresence of her cousin, during the next few days, could not fail tobe a tonic. And, as Ethel had said, she herself had been the one tosuggest the first idea of the winter visit. Chance and CaptainFrazer had decreed that it should take place now, when Alice's handswere immoderately full of work. But then, so much the better. Ethelcould make herself invaluable among the convalescents. She herselfhad not put on her Red-Cross badge for the sake of taking her resthour at the bedside of Trooper Harvard Weldon. 

Half undressed, Ethel paused, hair brush in hand. "You can't imaginehow tired I am, Alice. It is a terrible journey up here nowadays. Iwas in terror of a train-wreck at any moment, " she said drowsily. "Don't let me sleep too long in the morning, because, " she pulledopen her eyes long enough to dart a mocking glance over her shoulderat her cousin; "because you know, right after breakfast, you aregoing to let me begin to help you take care of some of your people. "

From behind her own sheltering veil of ink-black hair, Alicelaughed. 

"Cooee, you are a dear; but you're rather a trial, " she said slowly. "However, now that you are here, I think I shall ask the P. M. O. Toset you to work to watch over the needs of Mr. Weldon. He won't behere much longer; but, while he stays, I shall consider him yourpatient. " Then, brushing aside the veil, she bent forward andtouched her lips to her cousin's cheek. 

"Might I ask what brought you up here, Miss Dent?" Weldon asked, thenext day. 

Beside him sat Ethel, her hands demurely clasped in the lap of herbroad white apron. 

"My cousin's invitation, " she replied. 

"Then Miss Mellen knew you were coming?"

"Yes. She asked me to come, early in the winter. "

"Strange she said nothing about it! We were talking about you, onlyyesterday. "

"She didn't know, even then, that I was so imminent, " Ethelanswered. "I took her quite by surprise, at the last. "

"A surprise all around, then, " he said, with a boyish laugh. "I wasastonished to find Miss Mellen here, and you must have been equallyastonished to find me. If only Captain Frazer would appear, our oldquartette would be complete. "

"I am afraid we must get on without him, " she said lightly. 

"Unfortunately, yes. I wonder where he is. "

"In Cape Town, " she replied unexpectedly. 

"Really? What is he doing there?"

"Don't expect me to tell. It has something to do with a staff; butwhether he carries it, or becudgels recruits with it, I have no ideaat all. "

"He hasn't left the Scottish Horse?"

"In fact; but not in name. Your regiment is still in the Transvaal;but he keeps a sort of vicarious connection with it. Please don'texpect me to grasp military details, Mr. Weldon. I merely repeat thefacts, parrot fashion; you must interpret them to suit yourself. "

He laughed again. Already, in that one morning, he appeared to havetaken a long stride towards the regaining of his old self. 

"You are a perfect gazette, Miss Dent, the first bit of news thathas crept inside this place. Where did you get all yourinformation?"

"From Captain Frazer. " Her rising color belied her unconcerned tone. 

"You have seen him, then?"

"Yes. He is usually very good about calling, whenever he comes toCape Town. "

"And is he well?"

"Absolutely. Also quite enthusiastic over his troopers and the workthey did at Vlaakfontein. "

"Were--many--"

She understood. 

"Not very many; but several were wounded. Worst of all, one or twoof the wounded ones were shot by the Boers. Mr. Carew told me thathe left a dozen of your men in the hospital at Krugersdorp. "

"Carew? Have you seen him, too, Miss Dent?"

"Didn't you know he was here?"

He stared at her in blank amazement. 

"Here in Johannesburg?"

"Here in this hospital. "

"In what shape?"

"Hilarious in his mind, and with a foot that is coming out right incourse of time. Didn't Alice tell you?"

"No. "

"Strange. She took me to see him, this morning, on my way here, because he was such a promising patient. She was quite surprised tofind we were old acquaintances. "

"Oh, " Weldon said slowly. "I begin to see. Miss Mellen had never metCarew, so she had no idea we were friends. What a curious snarl itall is!"

"The hand of Fate is in it, " Ethel assented idly. 

"Do you believe in Fate, too?"

"Surely. Why not?"

"Nothing, only your cousin said you didn't. "

The girl frowned. 

"Alice doesn't know all my mental processes, " she said a littleseverely. 

"She didn't pretend to. We were speaking of Fate, yesterday, of theway certain events in one's life seem absolutely inevitable; atleast, I was. Then the conversation worked around to you, and MissMellen suggested that you usually rose superior to Fate, " Weldonexplained at some length. 

Once again, Ethel felt the note of finality in his tone. For aninstant, she shut her lips. Then she reverted to the main question. 

"How do you mean inevitable?"

"As if you chose your path, and then found that, for always, it hadbeen the only thing for you to do. That's not so clear, I know; butI can't put it much better. "

"For instance?"

"For instance, my coming out here when I did. I was interested inthe war; but there was no real question of my coming, until themonth I sailed. Then, all of a sudden, I seemed to know why it wasthat I had spent my life on horseback. They told me in England thatthe real war was over. When I landed at Cape Town, I found out thatthe one thing needed was a man who could ride, and shoot straight. From the day I sailed from home, until now, I have been like anactor walking through a part that some one else has written for him. I have chosen nothing; it all has been inevitable. "

She rose to her feet, and stood leaning on the back of her chair. 

"In that case, Mr. Weldon, you must include our meeting in yourscheme of things, " she said, with a smile. 

His answering smile met her smile with perfect frankness. 

"I sometimes wonder if that wasn't the most inevitable part of itall. "

CHAPTER TWELVE

The red-brown veldt stretched away to the sky-line, sixty milesdistant. Level as it looked, it was nevertheless a succession ofsoftly rolling ridges dotted with clumps of dried sagebrush andspotted here and there with heaps of black volcanic rocks. Far tothe northward, a thin line of poplars and willows marked the bed ofa river. Beyond that, again, the air was thick with smoke from acresof burning veldt. The days were full of dust, and the nights werefull of frost; it was the month of June, and winter was upon theland. 

The camp was taking a well-earned rest. For days, the men had sweptover the veldt, following hard on the trail of a Boer general whoonly made himself visible now and then by a spatter of bullets, whenhis convoy train was delayed at a difficult ford. It had been a weekof playing pussin-the-corner over a charred and dusty land, wherethe only roads were trails trodden out to powder by the hoofs ofthose that had gone before. Both men and mounts were wellnighexhausted, and the officers had decreed a halt. 

The strain had been intense. Now, with the relaxing of it, itsmemory vanished, and the halt swiftly took upon itself theappearance of a school holiday. Laughing and chaffing each other, groups of men loitered here and lounged there, smoking, writingletters, and taking stout, unlovely stitches in their time-wornkhaki clothing. At one side of the camp was the tent of the messsergeant, equipped like a portable species of corner grocery. Nearby, Paddy apparently was in his element, presiding over hiscamp-kitchen, a vast bonfire encircled with a dozen iron pots. At thefarther edge of the camp Weldon was umpiring a game of footballbetween his own squadron and a company of the Derbys. Owing to theathletic zeal of the hour, it was big-side, and Weldon was too busyin keeping his eye upon so many players to pay much attention to hisown loneliness. 

In all truth, however, he was lonely. The week since he had rejoinedhis squadron had dragged perceptibly. Captain Frazer was in CapeTown; Carew was still in hospital at Johannesburg where, under theeyes of Alice Mellen and her cousin, he was fast resuming his oldfinical habits. Dingy and veldt-stained though he might be, Carew atheart would always remain the exquisite. However, exquisite that hewas bound to be, he was even more the soldier, and his gay eyes hadclouded, as he had wrung Weldon's hand in parting. 

"Lucky dog!" he said enviously. "I am off duty for two weeks more, and you are going back to the thick of things. One must take it asit comes; but I say, old man, don't forget me when the bullets beginto pelt at you again. "

And Weldon had been better than his promise. He had thought ofCarew, day and night, for the entire week, thought of him and missedhim acutely. Carew was an ideal comrade in that he never, under anycircumstances, took himself in earnest. 

A leg which will carry a man on horseback is by no means fit forfootball. Weldon, finished player that he was, found it tame work toumpire a team whose sole idea of tactics was to get there in any waythat offered itself. Half an hour sufficed; then, appointing anunderstudy, he walked away in search of Paddy. From the midst of atorrent of instructions to his quartette of black subordinates, Paddy's voice sang out a cheery greeting. 

"Come along, little feller! Come and get something to eat. It'shungry you ought to be, the day, after the way you've been walkingall over the country on horseback and an empty stomach. Try this, asa sample of your dinner, and sit down by the edge of the fire, whilst, and tell me how it tastes. "

The iron spoon scraped lustily over the iron dixey. Then Weldonreturned them both with a low bow. 

"Like yourself, Paddy, short and sweet. "

Paddy brandished the spoon, weapon-wise. 

"Short is it, you little Canuck! So is a pepperpot short; but itholds a hell of a flavor. Leave Paddy a gun in his hand, and hisshort legs will keep up with your long ones, when it's the firingline that's before him. "

"The old sing-song, Paddy. Give us something new. "

"So will I, when I get my wishing. Till then, you'll hear it overand over again. A man of my temper, little one, will never restcontent at a firing line that's all surrounded about with ten-quartpots of boiling beef. "

"Why don't you resign, then?"

"Resigned! How can I be resigned? I'm a chunk of dynamite in asuet-pot, hard to manage and ready to go off at any time that somethingstrikes me. Meantime, I am like what they say is dirt: matter out ofplace. "

"Then why don't you get out?" Weldon queried. 

"I am out of place now, I'm telling you, " Paddy returned, as hepensively rested his cheek upon the bowl of the spoon in his hand. 

"Yes; but why not refuse to stay here as cook?"

Sorrowfully Paddy shook his head, spoon and all. 

"That's what I did do, little one. "

"And what happened?"

"This. " The spoon came into evidence once more. "They blarneyed meup and they blarneyed me down, and they said nobody could cook likePaddy. Anybody could shoot a baker's dozen of Boers; but only oneman in the camp could fill up the boys to give them a fit and levelstomach for the battle. And here I am, and here I'm like to be, tillthe new moon in the heavens turns to a curly strip of bully beef. IfI'd known the Captain was about to escape to Cape Town, it's Paddythat would have escaped with him, hanging on to the tail of hiscoat. Saint Patrick's vipers! What's that?"

A hum, a spat, and a little spurt of red dust rolled lazily upward. Then another hum followed. There was a scurry of men, a squeak ofleather, the light clashing of rifles snatched from the stack; andthe troops were off. 

Beside them, the nearer hills rose in brick-red patches against thesky. Farther away, the brick color changed to gray and, stillbeyond, to misty purple. Before them rolled the open, khaki-coloredveldt dotted in one direction by a ragged spot of black that flowedover the crest of each ridge and vanished from sight for a momentbefore rising from the hollow to flow over the crest of the ridgebeyond. And towards the ragged spot of black there rushed onward, atan ever-lessening distance, the khaki-colored streak of the foremostrank of C Squadron, led for the moment by a little gray bronchowhose hoofs touched the ground only to spurn it backwards. 

The chase was long and hot; but the end was in sight. Directlyacross the path of the quarry stretched a low line of willowsshowing the course of the stream beneath, and, a few hundred feetthis side of the willows, scattered clumps of green marked as manyscattered dwellings. By the largest clump, the quarry halted andturned to bay, and the pursuers, unable to check their speed, rodedown upon it and crashed through its ranks, regardless of thepitiless fire, then, sweeping around on the arc of a mammothcircle, took up their position in the shelter of a walled kraal, only a few hundred yards away. Then for a moment they halted, faceto face and in absolute silence. 

Even after her mad race, the little gray broncho was breathingdeeply and easily; but Weldon could feel his own breath come short. Banged in open order before him were a full half-hundred of theenemy, bearded, black-coated, bandoliered, grim and stolid and ripeof years. Beside him were the new captain of the troop and sevenmen. They were and alert; but there were only nine of them in all. And the rest of the troop, it seemed to him, were half the veldt-lengthaway. Vaguely he wondered whether their distant khaki coatswould look as purple as did the distant khaki-colored hills. Then, quite inconsequently, as he raised his rifle, he noticed that one ofthe Boers had a button hanging loosely on its threads from the frontof his coat. He was rather surprised, the next instant, to see theBoer pitch forward headlong in the dust. It was some time afterwardthat he thought to connect the falling with the crack of his ownrifle. 

Piggie bounded sidewise, as the mount of the trooper next Weldondropped and lay whimpering like a hurt child. Then she steadied tothe touch of Weldon's hand upon her neck. It was not the first timehe had guided her, unscathed, through a leaden shower. She wouldtrust him yet once again. As he raised his rifle, her wiry legs wereas steady as four iron rods. He saw another Boer fall and yetanother and a third; but one khaki-colored figure lay stiffly besidehim, and another was dragging itself away to a corner of the kraal, to give greater space to its unwounded comrades. And still thebullets whizzed about them, thick and ever thicker. 

Piggie shied again. This time a bullet had grazed her neck, and thesight of the narrow sear filled Weldon's mind with a dull, unreasoning rage. Brutal to aim at the plucky mounts who bore theirriders so gallantly into the flight where all defensive power wasdenied themselves! He paused long enough to pat the firm gray neck, to feel the answering pressure against his hand. Then he raised hisrifle again and took careful aim, as he breathed a wordless prayerthat chance might guide his bullet into the man who had scarred hisfaithful friend. Another Boer dropped; Weldon hoped it was by hisown bullet. Then both he and the gray broncho pricked up their earsas, close on their flank, they heard the beating of galloping hoofs. 

In the shock of the scrimmage that followed, there was scant time totake thought of friend or of foe. On the heels of his new captainas, of old, he had been on the heels of Captain Frazer, Weldon andthe gray broncho were in the thick of the fight. Then, as the Boerssullenly fell backwards, Weldon became aware of a familiar voice inhis ears. 

"Whisht, little feller! It's Paddy, " the voice said in a spookyundertone, as its owner ranged up alongside the gray broncho. 

"Paddy!" Weldon stared at him in unfeigned astonishment. "What inthe name of heaven are you doing here, man?"

With perfect composure Paddy squared himself in the saddle. 

"Little Canuck dear, as I told you before, heaven is a state ofeternal peace, and therefore an undesirable abode in these hottimes. I prefer a whiff of brimstone, myself; and, by the powers, I've been getting, it. " As he spoke, he took off his hat and showeda neat trio of holes in the left brim. 

"But how did you come here, Paddy?" Weldon asked again. 

"Took your advice to heart, my jewel, kicked over my pan of fat andjumped into the fire. Which, being put into straight English, Iswiped a horse and rode off with the rest of the boys on the tail ofthe serpent. " Weldon gasped, as he realized the enormity of thecrime. Then he laughed. In his haste to gain possession of a mount, Paddy had taken no thought for his armament. His sole weapon was thehuge iron spoon, still grasped in his left hand. 

"Whose horse did you take, Paddy?"

"I d'know. I never looked to see. I popped my toe into the stirrupand came away, hot-foot; but, " Paddy paused for a deliberate wink;"as I was leaving camp, I thought I heard the voice of that pigeon-toedlittle cockney Parrott, him that used to stub his toes on thewall at Piquetberg Road, acalling out that some one had mislaid hishorse and he couldn't find it. I was sorry; but I was in a divil ofa haste and couldn't stop to condole with him then. "

"But, Paddy, they'll run you out of camp for this, " Weldonremonstrated dutifully. 

Paddy's shoulder mounted towards his left ear. "I'm thinking I haverun myself out, and that's just what I was meaning to do. I've beena captain with four lieutenants under me. Any one of them can slingthe pepper and the salt, and they're welcome; but not one has thefighting blood in his veins as I have. Let them mind their kettlesand leave me to mind the enemy. "

"And if they won't let you go back?"

"Then I'll ship myself straight down to Cape Town, and take servicewith Captain Frazer. He can fight with the best of them, and heknows I'm a man. It's riding at his heels I'll be, henceforth andforevermore. "

Turning, Weldon looked long into the jovial Irish face, and at thehunchy figure that joggled to and fro in the saddle, with no heed tothe rhythm of his horse's pace. 

"Who taught you to ride, Paddy?" he asked at length. 

For an instant, a lump in Paddy's left cheek betrayed thewhereabouts of his tongue. Then quietly he made answer, "Sure, little feller, it must have been the grace of Saint Patrick. Nobodyelse has ever took a hand in the training of me. But I'll back himagainst all the riding masters in London and Aldershot. "

And the result showed that Paddy's confidence was not misplaced. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

By midwinter, the war had become a series of guerrilla raids, ofsweeping drives and of occasional skirmishes. The epoch of theinfantry had passed, and it was the day of the mounted man. Thehome-going of the great Field Marshal, six months before, had beenfollowed by the return to England of transports loaded with footsoldiers. The hour, the country and the enemy all demanded the manon the horse. With Lord Kitchener in the field and the coloniesaiding the mother country, the outcome was only a matter of time;but few could as yet say when the fulness of that time should be athand. 

"But it leaves me a good deal puzzled in my mind, " Weldon saidthoughtfully. 

"How do you mean?" Ethel Dent threw the question at him a littledefiantly. 

"About going home. "

"Surely, you aren't going now?"

He winced at the accent. 

"I am not sure. I volunteered for six months. My time is up; I paidmy official visit to the Citadel yesterday. "

"Are you needed at home?"

"No. At least, not in any real sense. "

"But you are needed here. "

"There are enough without me, and the need will not last long. "

"Don't be too sure. On the Dunottar Castle, there were plenty ofpeople who laughed at you men for coming out to volunteer, after thewar was over. You have proved that they laughed at nothing. Prove itagain. "

Rising, he walked the length of the room and stood looking out fromthe long front window. The bamboo screens and the willow chairs weregone from their veranda corner; the flower-boxes were empty now, andTable Bay gleamed coldly back at him in the late afternoon sun ofmidwinter. Then he turned around to face the girl, seated where hergolden hair seemed to him to catch and hold all the light centeringabout the gay little tea-table. 

"Don't, " he said with some impatience. "Your arguments all echo myown wish. I am pulled in two ways at once. At home, the mother isgrowing restless. Since Vlaakfontein, she has lost her nerve, andher heart is set on my meeting her in London in October. "

Deliberately Ethel made a neat triangle out of three unused spoons. 

"Well?" she said, without looking up. 

"Piggie and I have had a smell of powder, " he answered briefly. "Wewant more. "

"Well?" she said again. 

"The question is, are we likely to get it. "

"Not in England; not even in Cape Town, " she answered, smiling atthe spoons before her. 

"Then where?"

"Wherever the Boers are thickest. "

"Yes; but, after all, you are talking platitudes, Miss Dent, " hesaid, with recurring impatience. 

This time, she lifted her dark blue eyes to his face and allowedthem to rest there for a full minute. 

"But you forbade me to argue, " she said demurely. 

He dropped down into a chair and faced her resolutely. 

"Now look here, Miss Dent, I can't talk shop in tea-table English. In fact, shop has no place at a tea-table, anyway. Still, you werethe one to start it. Let's have it out. I don't want to funk, atthis late day. If there is any fighting to be done, I want a hand init. I went into a game of a certain length; I hope I played up, andstuck to the professional rules. That game is played out. I am notTrooper Weldon of the Scottish Horse. I am plain Harvard Weldonagain and, to be quite frank, I don't like the change from khaki totweed. But about going in for another game: it all depends on whatthe game will be. If it plays itself out, well and good; if it justdribbles on and on, without accomplishing anything, even an end, then I can see no use in going in for it. Fighting is one thing;having a picnic all over the face of South Africa is quite anothermatter. And, for the life of me, I can't see which is bound tocome. "

There was a minor cadence to the final phrase. Then he fell silent, and sat staring at the rug, while Ethel, leaning back in her chair, studied him at her ease. All in all, she was pleased with the resultof her study. Always frank and likable, Weldon had developedwonderfully during those past months of hard work and slendercomfort. Underneath his sunburn, his face had taken on new lines ofresolution. His eyes were as clear as ever; but their boyishness wasall in the past. It was a man who had come striding into the room, that afternoon, and paused beside her tea-table. And Ethel, lookingup, had greeted him as she might have greeted Baden-Powell in hisplace. 

To a great extent, Cape Town was resuming at least a semblance ofits oldtime social life. Heroes were more plentiful than isaltogether normal, however, and there was a dust-colored tint tomost assemblages. During the past months, the Dents' house had cometo be one of the focal points of society, and there were few men ofnote who had failed to mount the wide white steps and pass betweenthe flanking pillars at the top, on their way to the drawing-roombeyond. Once there, they usually came again, immediately, if theylingered in Cape Town; on their way back from the front, if noquicker opportunity offered itself. Many a bullet-interruptedconversation was resumed there; many a boy, just out from home, confided his mingled homesickness and aspirations to dainty, white-haired Mrs. Dent in her easy-chair; many a seasoned officer forgothis ambitions and his disappointments and even his still sensitivewounds in the gay talk of the golden-haired girl by the tray. As arule, Ethel talked shop with no man. She merely looked sympathetic, and left him to do the talking, which he did unhesitatingly andwithout reservation. From the first hour of their meeting, Weldonhad been the one exception. Even in the hospital at Johannesburg, she had gone over with him in detail his experiences in camp andfield, and it had been Weldon by no means who had done all thetalking. 

To-day, as she had welcomed the tall Canadian in his irreproachablefrock-coat, she had known a sudden pang of regret. Undeniably, histailor was an artist. Nevertheless, she liked him better as she hadseen him last, in his stained khaki and his well-worn shoes, bendingover her hand in farewell, then taking The Nig's bridle from thewaiting Kruger Bobs, to leap into the tarnished saddle, lift his hatand ride away out of sight. No one but Ethel herself had known thatit was not distance alone which had rendered him invisible to her. And the next week in the hospital had dragged perceptibly. At theend of that time, she had been quite ready to say good by toJohannesburg and all that it contained. But, meanwhile, her smilegave no clue to her memories, as she offered her hand to Weldon. 

"I knew you were here, " she said cordially; "and I have any numberof things to talk over with you. There is no talking for me now, though, with all these people on my hands. Can't you stay on anddine with us? That will give us an hour to gossip comfortably, andCaptain Frazer is to be the only other guest. I asked him, on thechance of your appearing. Oh, good afternoon, Colonel Douglas!"

And Weldon found himself swept on out of her radius. 

He took refuge beside Mrs. Dent and, from that safe slack-water, hemade a thorough survey of the room. It was the first time he hadbeen present at one of the Dents' reception days, and heacknowledged himself surprised at what he saw. Here and there anacquaintance nodded to him; but, for the most part, he was astranger to the guests, save for the dozen whom he knew well bysight and better still by reputation. Moreover, while he watchedher, he began to wonder whether he were not something of a strangerto Ethel herself. This stately girl was not the comrade with whom hehad tramped the deck of the Dunottar Castle, nor yet the friend ofhis early days in Cape Town, nor yet again the blithe companion ofhis last tedious hours of convalescence. This girl was altogetheradmirable; but a bit awe-inspiring withal. He watched the nonchalantease with which she provided a white-haired veteran of manywars and many orders with a cup of steaming tea, and then sat andchatted with him while he drank it. He felt himself a bashful boy, as he watched her, and, like any other bashful boy, he fell totalking to Mrs. Dent about his mother. 

Then the last visitor made a reluctant exit, and Ethel crossed theroom to his side. With the passing of the little throng of guestsher assured manners had passed, and she met him with the sameinformal manner which had marked those last days at Johannesburg. 

"Now, " she said, as she dropped down beside her mother's chair; "youmust tell me all about everything, Mr. Weldon. And, first of all, are you quite strong again?"

Question had followed question, eager, girlish and sincere, untilWeldon's answers had covered all the interval since they last hadmet. At length, the delicate little mother had gone away to restbefore time for dinner. Weldon's strong arm had half-supported, half-carried her up the staircase. Then, returning to thedrawing-room, he had joined Ethel beside the deserted tea-table. 

"After six months of the billy and the fryingpan, it is wonderfullygood to handle china again, " he said, as he halted on the hearth rugand stood smiling down at her. 

She smiled back at him in full approval. Weldon looked very much thelord of creation, as he stood there with his back to the fire andone elbow resting on the mantel beside him. The position suited him, and, speaking in quite another sense, it suited her also. 

"Then a taste of civilization is pleasant now and then, even to agrizzled warrior like yourself?" she questioned lightly. 

"Yes, for the time being. One never knows, though, how long thattime being will last. "

"What shall you do, when the war ends?"

"Go home, take up a share in the pater's business, and grow stoutand lazy, " he answered her unsmilingly. 

"An alluring prospect. "

"Yes; but there will be other things: an occasional dinner, and evena tea now and then. "

Leaning back in her chair, she looked up at him through her longyellow lashes. 

"And shall you never remember to miss Africa?" she asked indolently. 

His eyes rested upon her gravely. 

"Yes, often. Moreover forgive my bluntness, but it is one of theprivileges of a soldier--moreover, Miss Dent, I shall miss you. "

Her color came; but she made no effort to ignore his words. 

"Thank you, " she said, with equal gravity. "I am glad to have yousay so. But I hope it may be long before that day comes. " "I can'ttell. I had expected to sail for home, in a week or two. Now I amnot so sure. "

"Whether you wish to?"

"Whether I ought. When I left the Transvaal, the work seemed nearlydone. Down here, the stories are less promising. " He paused; then headded thoughtfully, "But it leaves me a good deal puzzled in mymind. "

Coffee was served in the drawing-room, that night. Ethel rousedherself from a reverie as Weldon and Captain Frazer joined her. Totheir half-mocking questions, she admitted the fact of herthoughtfulness. To neither one did she see fit to acknowledge itscause. The mood passed swiftly, however, and it left her morebrilliantly gay than either man had ever seen her until then. Eachfrankly confessed himself dazzled; each one of them, more grave bynature than she often showed herself, was secretly uneasy lest hersudden overflow of spirits was in some fashion directed towards hiscompanion; yet so skilfully did she lead the conversation that, atthe evening's end, neither Weldon nor the Captain could produce anyvalid claim to being considered the favored guest. 

"It has been good to have you here, " she said gayly, as she gavethem each a hand at parting. "Even if I was not present at yourmeeting, I have always felt that I had a finger-tip, at least, inyour friendship. " Then, as she dropped their hands, she faced theCaptain with sudden seriousness. "Captain Frazer, " she said slowly;"Mr. Weldon's time is over, and he has left the service. He thinksthe fighting is all done. I am only a woman; I can't explain thingsvery clearly, and so, " she hesitated a little; "and so I think Ishall leave his soul in your hands. There are plenty of people stillin South Africa; there are never too many men. " And, with a gravelittle nod, half intent, half girlish, she turned away from thedoor, leaving the heavy drapery to sway to and fro behind her. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Three days later, Weldon ran lightly up the stone steps and rang atthe Dents' door. 

"Is Miss Dent in?" he asked the maid. "I know it isn't her day; buttell her I am leaving town almost immediately, and I wish to saygood by. "

Notwithstanding his message, Ethel was long about appearing, and herface and manner, when she halted on the threshold, were a bitunapproachable. Then, as her eyes lighted on the brown uniform andthe wide slouch hat, her whole expression changed, and she cameforward with an eagerness which she was at no pains to conceal. 

"Mr. Weldon. "

He bowed in mock humility. 

"Trooper Weldon, if you please. "

"I am delighted. Is it your old troop?"

He shook his head. 

"No. I know the Transvaal and all its resources by heart. I havechosen the Orange Free State. It is a new country; and, besides, allthe best of the fighting is going to be there, on the heels of DeWet. "

"Are you a prophet?" she asked, while she dropped into a chair andmotioned to him to be seated. 

"No; but I suspect that Captain Frazer is, " he answered, as heobeyed her. 

She raised her brows questioningly. 

"Does he go, too?"

"Not now. His staff work holds him here among the fleshpots, " hereplied. "Later, he may be able to come up to us. "

"Us?"

"The South African Light Horse. "

"Why did you choose them?"

"Because they are to operate in the Orange River country, andbecause they would have me. "

"Is that a matter to consider?"

Weldon laughed while, placing his hat on the floor, he settledhimself more comfortably in his chair. His face was unusuallyanimated, that day, and his trim new uniform and his carefully-woundputties added inches to his height and showed his lithe, lean figureat its very best. 

"I considered it, " he answered then. "It is a trick of mine, as soonas I decide I want a thing, to be in living terror of losing it. However, the ordeal was short and not too severe. Captain Frazerintroduced me to a little lieutenant who looked me over, asked me ifI could ride, if I could shoot a rifle and if I had had anyexperience. I fancy the matter was settled beforehand. Then I wentout and treated The Nig and Piggie to some new shoes, and myself toa new uniform, and the deed was done. "

"Are you glad, or sorry?" she asked slowly. 

"That there was no more red tape?"

"That you decided as you did?"

He stared at her thoughtfully for a minute. Then he answered, --

"But I imagine it rather decided itself. I spoke of it to you oncebefore, I remember, when we were up in hospital, how there neverseemed to be much choice open to me. I fancy I am deciding things; Imull over them till I am disgusted with the whole matter. Then, after I have made up my mind what I am going to do, I suddenlyrealize that there was never any question about it from the start. Ihave simply said 'yes' to an irresistible force. "

"Perhaps, " she assented slowly. "I am not so sure. " Then she turnedto the tangible fact. "But when do you go?"

"To-morrow morning. "

"I am sorry it must be so soon, " she said quietly. "Still, I am gladyou are going. You never would have been satisfied to sail for homenow. "

"No, " he answered. "I should not. "

Then the talk halted again. 

"Where is Mr. Carew?" she asked abruptly at length, less frominterest in Carew than from a desire to escape so insistent a pause. 

"At the Mount Nelson. " "Here in Cape Town?"

"Yes. He came down with me. We volunteered together, you know, andhis time was ended, too. "

"Does he go home?"

"No; not Harry Carew. We had decided to keep together in our plans;in fact, it was one of the conditions of our coming out. But, fromthe start, he has hated the idea of going back home as long as therewas an armed Boer left in the field. "

"And he goes with you?"

"Yes, to Springfontein. We have our headquarters there for thepresent. For Carew's sake, I hope it will be more riding andscouting than actual fighting. The man is made of some material thatdraws all the bullets in sight. "

Ethel smiled. 

"Don't let him stop near you, then, " she advised. 

"Why not? He is as good as a shield. It is hard on him, though. Hewas hit four or five times before Vlaakfontein, and has had onescratch since. "

"What is the trouble? Is he foolhardy?"

"Foolhardy in war, Miss Dent?"

"Yes, just that. There is no sense in taking needless risks. "

"But it is mighty hard to draw the line between avoiding needlessrisks and funking necessary ones, " he answered. "But Carew isn'treckless. He is plucky, but very level-headed, and he means to takecare of himself, when he can. One can't always, you know. And thenhe is wonderfully unlucky. "

"You believe in luck, then?"

"Yes, or Fate. What else makes a man move out of the way, just intime for the bullet to graze his cheek? He doesn't see the bulletcoming; neither does the man who stops it. Both of them are busyabout something else. For the man who escapes it, it is Providence;for the man who gets killed, it is Fate. "

She tried to rouse him from his sudden gravity. 

"And for both, it is mere chance. "

"If you call it that. Miss Dent--" He hesitated. 

"Yes, " she assented gravely. 

"It was only a chance, but a strange one, " he went on, with his eyesfixed on the topmost ridge of his brown puttie. "We were climbingthe face of a kopje, one day. It was very steep, and we crawled up anarrow trail in single file. Two days before, our guns had beenshelling the whole kopje, and they must have cracked it up badly. All at once, the man above me loosened a great lump of rock. I wasexactly underneath it. It gave a little bound outward, wentcompletely over me and struck full on the head of the next man inline. "

The girl sat, bending forward in her chair, her strong, quiet handsclasped loosely in her lap. 

"And he?" she asked quite low. 

"He dropped to the foot of the kopje, dead. In his fall, he draggeddown the next man after him, and his leg was crushed. "

"And you were saved!" she said a bit breathlessly. 

"Doesn't it make you feel a vague responsibility, as if you mustlive up to something that you couldn't quite understand?"

Without looking up, he bowed in assent. 

"Yes, " he said then. "Don't think me foolishly superstitious, MissDent, or too egotistic. I try not to pay much attention to it. Oncein a while, though, not too often, it all comes back over me, and Ifeel then as if my life might have been kept for something that isstill ahead of me. "

"And doesn't it leave you feeling anxious about making all yourdecisions?" she asked slowly, as she leaned back again in her chair. 

"At first. Then I remember how that, and some other things have beensettled for me. "

"What then?"

"Then I shut my teeth and face forward. All one can do, is to forgetthe future and take the present as it comes, making the best of eachminute and leaving the hour to look out for itself, " he answeredsimply. "Sometimes one makes better progress by drifting than hedoes by punting against the current. "

She bit her lip. 

"Sometimes I think, though--" Suddenly she roused herself and gave anervous little laugh. "Captain Frazer is coming up the steps, " sheadded. 

"You think?" Weldon reminded her, as she rose. 

But she shook her head and laughed again, this time more in hernatural manner. 

"I think that I wish you would bring Mr. Carew to call on me, nexttime you come, " she said evasively. 

"Thank you. He will be glad to come. The only question is when thenext time will arrive. "

"You said Captain Frazer was a prophet, " she said, as she movedtowards the door. "Ask him. "

Tall, alert, eager, the Captain entered the room in time to catchher words. 

"A prophet of what and to whom, Miss Dent?" he asked, as he bowedover her outstretched hand. 

"To Mr. Weldon, in regard to the future fighting, " she answeredgayly. 

"You here, Weldon?"

"Yes, to say good by. "

Captain Frazer nodded. 

"I saw Mitchell, this morning. He spoke well of you; of Carew, too, for the matter of that. He told me your troop would be off in themorning, and asked me to diagnose your best points. "

"Could you find any?" Weldon asked imperturbably. "A few. I told himyou could sit tight and shoot straight, " the Captain answered, laughing. Then he added gravely, "And I also told him you could ridethe fiend incarnate, and that, as far as I knew, you didn't loseyour head when you were under fire. "

For the instant, Weldon forgot his hostess, as he looked up to meetthe Captain's blue eyes squarely. 

"Thank you. But it is more than I deserve. "

"Then you must try to live up to it, " Ethel advised him languidly. "It merely increases your responsibilities, for now you have tworeputations to support, your own for pluck and the Captain's forbeing a judge of his fellowmen. It is an awful weight that you arecarrying on your shoulders, Mr. Weldon. "

"If it grows too heavy, I will slide some of it off on your own, " hereturned, as he picked up his hat and rose to his feet. "Yourresponsibility is back of mine, Miss Dent. It was you who advised meto stay in South Africa. "

"Not at all. I presented the case and kept my advice to myself, " sherebelled promptly. 

"Certain presentments are stronger than much advising. "

"Perhaps. But in the end, you remember, I commended your soul toCaptain Frazer's keeping. "

He bowed with the odd, old-fashioned deference which it pleased himto assume at times. "Captain Frazer may have saved it; but it mayhave been you who made it worth his efforts at salvation. "

She laughed again. Nevertheless, her eyes showed her pleasure. 

"Then we, Captain Frazer and I, must divide the responsibility foryour future, " she replied. "In any case, may it be all good!"

The drapery fell backward over his departing figure, and, for aninstant, Ethel stood staring at the swaying folds. Then, turning, she walked back to the fire. 

"All good, " she repeated. "I know you echo the wish, Captain Frazer. But--isn't it hard to say good by?"

"In these days most of all, " he assented slowly. "And one never cantell when his own turn may come. "

"Nor what its end may be, " she added. Then impetuously she roseagain and moved up and down the room. "Look at that sunshineoutside, Captain Frazer, " she said restlessly. "It ought to forbidany such gloomy moods. I believe all this war and so many partingsare spoiling my nerve. I really feel quite blue, to-day; and Mr. Weldon made it worse. "

"By saying good by?"

Glancing up, she was astonished at the wishful, hungry look in theblue eyes before her. "Yes, a little, " she said lightly; "for I hatethe very word. But, if it must be spoken, it should always be shortand staccato. Instead, he sat here, and we talked about Fate andwounds and all sorts of direful things. " She shook herself andshivered slightly. Then she sat down in the chair which Weldon hadjust left vacant. "It is bad manners to have nerves, Captain Frazer. Forgive me first, and then tell me something altogether flippant, tomake me forget things. "

But her mood had caught the Captain in its grasp. 

"Are you sure you want to forget?" he asked her gravely. 

"Yes, " she made vehement answer. "Always!"

But not even her decided answer brought back the eager light intohis dark blue eyes. 

Nevertheless, an hour later found him still sitting there. Ethel'sdepression had vanished, to be followed by a mood of waywardmerriment for which the honest, straightforward soldier was totallyat a loss to account. Sincere himself, he looked for sincerity inothers. If Ethel's gravity had been unfeigned, how could it so soongive place to her present buoyancy? Not the strictest code ofhospitality could demand that a hostess should straightway tossaside the thought of the parting guest who had gone away to battleand, perhaps, to sudden death. And, if the girl had been insincerein her parting from Weldon, why should she be sincere in her presentabsorption in his own interests? And, if her regrets for Weldon wereas great as they had seemed to be, then what was the use of hisremaining by her side any longer? The horns of the dilemma extendedthemselves to infinity and branched again and again as theyextended. Meanwhile, his eyes were full of trouble, and his answersto her questions were vague and faltering. Until her sudden trip toJohannesburg, Captain Frazer had taken the girl as a matter ofcourse. Since then, he had begun to doubt, and the doubts werethickening. 

But, after all, there was no real reason for doubt. During her oneshort season in London, the Captain had met Ethel constantly, he hadbeen quite obviously the favorite of the old aunt who had presidedover the girl's introduction to society, and his later meetings withEthel at sundry week-end gatherings had convinced him that he had noserious rival. Then had come the war; and Ethel's absence from townhad made a farewell impossible. Captain Frazer had sailed away, leaving the past behind him; but the future was still his, to belost or won, according to the use he made of his manhood's chances. 

And then, on the dazzling summer morning which had ushered in thenew century, he had caught a glimpse of Ethel riding towards home. Three days later, as he had gone away down the broad white steps, hehad felt convinced that the future already lay in his grasp. It hadbeen the selfsame Ethel, unchanged and changeless to his loyal mind, who had met him with smiling, eager cordiality. The year ofseparation was cast aside; their friendship began again at theprecise spot where it had been broken off. 

Since then, he had seen her often, occasionally alone, sometimeswith her mother, sometimes the central figure of a little crowd whowere obviously striving to win her favor. Her father's fortune wasin part the cause of this; but the greater, surer cause lay withinthe girl's own personality. Ethel Dent was no negative character. However, Captain Frazer had never found her too absorbed in herother companions to be able to give him a share of her attentionwhich differed from all other shares that she bestowed, in being abit more personal in its cordiality. His black-fringed blue eyeswere keen and far-sighted. They assured him that, whatever herregard for him, at least it was true that, in all her Cape Townlife, there was no man for whom Ethel Dent had a sincerer liking. And then, all at once, a doubt had assailed his mind, and the doubthad centered itself in this long, lean Canadian with the grave, steady face and the boyish manner. Worst of all, the doubt hadscarcely arisen before he himself had become aware of his owngrowing liking for the young Canadian. Captain Leo Frazer wasstrictly just. He admitted to himself that Weldon was in every wayworthy to be chosen by Ethel Dent. However, he was determined aswell as just, and he had no mind at all to allow Ethel Dent tochoose any man but one, and that one was himself, Leo Frazer. 

And now he was sitting moodily by her fireside, listening to herlight, easy flow of talk and asking himself certain questions, whichhe was powerless to answer. 

As he rose at last, some sudden impulse made him speak from the verymidst of his train of thought. 

"Did you know he had refused a commission?" he asked, regardless ofantecedents. 

She made no pretence of misunderstanding him. 

"No. Did he?"

"Yes. Mitchell told me, this morning. "

"I wonder why. "

"He said he had pledged himself to stay with the rank and file, thatit was easier to take orders than to give them. "

"Strange!" she said thoughtfully. 

"Strange that he should feel so?"

She shook her head. 

"No. He told me about that, coming out. I am not surprised. But itis strange that he shouldn't have spoken of the matter now. "

"It was like him. He doesn't tell all his best deeds, " CaptainFrazer said, with direct frankness "Still, I thought it was fairerthat you should know. "

Her color came, as she met his eyes; but she offered no question inregard to the meaning of his final phrase. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Good reason they call them kopjes, " Carew grumbled scornfully, ashe swept his arm about the encircling landscape. "Every flat-tophill is an exact copy of every other flat-top hill, and they all aremore or less hideous to behold. My one source of rejoicement lies inthe fact that the pattern was worn out down here, instead of beingsent up to make our mountains by. I hate a bobtail horse; but it'snothing so bad as these everlasting bobtail hills. And, by Jove, there comes another dust devil!"

Far away across the veldt, a tiny spurt of dust twirled up into theair and came spinning towards them like a huge, translucent top. Gaining momentum as it spun along and picking up more dust as itadvanced, it came whirling onward, rising high and higher until itswept down on them, a huge, khaki-colored, balloon-like mass. Itcaught them in its whirl, ground its stinging, sifting particlesinto their clothing, their skin and even into their shut eyes. Thenit passed them by, and went spinning away in its course. Carew sworesoftly, as he wiped the dust from his lashes. 

"Beastly things! There really ought to be a society formed for thesuppression of dust devils in their infancy. What do you supposebecomes of the things, Weldon? There's no stopping them, once theyget under way; and, at their rate of growth, they could bury atownship in their old age. "

"Granted they could find one to bury, " Weldon returned. "Meanwhile, observe your bath tub. "

Carew glanced down at the dust-filled buckets at his feet. 

"Oh, hang!" he said concisely. "And I was about to prink. "

"One would think you needed it now more than ever, " Weldon answered, as he shook himself free from the thickest of the dust. "What's theuse of trying to keep clean, Carew?"

"Precious little. I used to talk about I 'the un-tubbed. ' Now Imean, merely for the sake of example, to shave twice in the month, and swab myself off between whiles. It's not for comfort, I assureyou. It's my belief that an occasional bath is worse than none. Itmerely stirs up memories of the buried past, and aspirations thatcan't be fulfilled. However--" And Carew, the quondam exquisite, pulled off his socks and shirt, punched them down into one of thebuckets and then did his British best to wash himself in the other. 

His lamentations rose again, however, when he put on histime-stained uniform once more. 

"I now understand why Brother Boer sleeps in his clothes, " heobserved grimly. "Cleanliness, may be next to godliness; but it ismighty near the edge of the diabolical to put yourself back intoclothes that are only fit for the dust bin. When I am field marshalof a long campaign, my first act will be to establish swimming tanksand laundries as a branch of the Army Service Corps. Meanwhile, seehere!" His open hand came down on his dust-colored coat. Ten minuteslater, the print of every finger was still distinctly visible. 

Weldon watched him sympathetically. Thanks to the efforts of KrugerBobs, his own clothing was slightly less filled with dust, and hisabandoned socks came back to him in a state of comparativecleanliness. Satisfied with the fact, he made no effort to inquireinto the method of its achievement. 

Carew, meanwhile, his coat off, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, was grappling with his efforts to produce laundry effect from awooden bucket and a few quarts of dingy water. Beyond splashing hisputties and giving himself a pain in the hinges of his back, heaccomplished little. The garments were very wet; but their griminesswas increased, rather than diminished. Carew's face fell, as helifted them one by one. Then he shook his head. 

"They certainly aren't cleaner; but they may be a bit fresher forbeing irrigated, " he observed hopefully. "Look out!"

Weldon dodged out of range, as a sock, squeezed from the ankledownward, yielded up its irrigation in a sudden spurt through thetoe. 

"Hold on, Carew; I'm no candidate for baptism, " he adjured hisfriend. "Let your things soak for a while, and I'll send Kruger Bobsover to take them in hand, as soon as he gets through polishing offThe Nig. "

Carew straightened his aching back. 

"I'll change work with him, " he suggested promptly. "A horse is onyour own level; it's degrading to run a Chinese laundry. "

Weldon glanced from the wooden bucket to the soaked wrists andsplashed putties of his companion. 

"I wish Miss Mellen could see you now, Carew, " he remarked unkindly. 

With unexpected suddenness, Carew mounted his dignity. 

"Unfortunately Miss Mellen is at Johannesburg. Moreover, Miss Mellenhas probably seen men in this mess before now, " he answered a littleshortly. 

"Doubtless. She may have been in a similar fix, herself. If shewere, I suspect she would put it through and come out on top, "Weldon replied, with an accent of hearty and respectful admirationwhich mollified his companion. "There's my call. I must go toinspect my day nursery. " And, leaving Carew beside his amateurwash-tub, he went striding away to the farther side of the camp where ahollow between the hills had been converted into a monstrous kraal. Involuntarily he smiled, as he walked off to his duty. Carew hadbeen an edifying spectacle, as he had sacrificed himself upon thealtar of cleanliness. He had been neither deft, dignified nordevout; and, in all truth, Alice Mellen would have found it hard torecognize her finical patient in the dusty, unshaven man whose hairbore unmistakable signs of having been pruned with a pair of pocketscissors. Little of Carew's past month had been spent in the basecamp at Springfontein. With hundreds of other men, he had gonegalloping up and down the Free State on the slippery heels of DeWet, now being shot at by prowling Boers, now engaged in a livelyskirmish from which he never made his exit totally unscathed, nowriding for weary, dusty miles upon a scent which ultimately provedto be a false one. And, meanwhile, not a postbag came into campwithout a letter for Carew, bearing the mark of Johannesburg. It wasnot altogether resultless that Carew's foot had been obstinatelyslow in its healing. 

To Weldon, a fixture in camp, fell the care of receiving Carew'smail. At last, when one day the bag brought in two letters addressedin the same dashing, angular handwriting, he forsook his principlesand made open comment. 

"There is a slight monotony about your mail, in these latter days, Carew, " he observed dispassionately. And Carew had answered, withperfect composure, --

"Yes, in view of my chronic trick of being potted at, I find it wiseto keep on good terms with my nurse. It may prove handy in case ofaccident, like an insurance policy, you know. Is that all?" And, cramming the letters into his pocket, he walked away to his tent. 

And Weldon, as he watched him, nodded contentedly to himself. Heliked Carew; he also liked Alice Mellen. Beyond that, he made noeffort to go. Just now, he cared to penetrate the thoughts of butone woman. The others he was willing to take on trust. Nevertheless, it would have caused him some surprise, could he have reviewed allthe mental processes of Alice Mellen, during the past ten months. For Weldon, the days at Springfontein differed not one whit, onefrom another, yet each day was full of an excitement which sent hisblood stinging through his veins. Every man in the regiment couldride a broken horse; but, for many of them their attainments stoppedthere, and broken horses were few and far between. With theincreasing need of troopers for the guerrilla raiding into which thewar was degenerating, with the inevitable losses of a long campaign, mounts of any kind were scarce. Nevertheless, consternation haddescended upon the camp, one day, when three hundred kicking, squealing American bronchos had been detrained and placed at theirservice. The next day, casualties were frequent; on the day afterthat, there was made announcement that mounted parade would beomitted. Weldon read the notice, smiled and went in search of hiscaptain. He was tired of inaction, and he felt his muscles growingsoft. They hardened speedily, however. 

Day after day, he went striding into the kraal whence, after askirmish which was more or less prolonged, he emerged astride amount which, with shrieking voice and rampant hoofs, gave notice toall that such a liberty could not be permitted. Nevertheless, it waspermitted. Sometimes, the final contest took place miles away fromthe point of its beginning. Sometimes horse and rider settled thematter in the course of a few concentric circles of an hundred-yardradius; sometimes it bucked; sometimes it rolled, and sometimes itmerely sat down upon its haunches, dog-wise, and refused to budge. Almost invariably, it came out from the contest, unscarred save forits dignity and its temper. Weldon's lips shut tight; but his eyesrarely blazed. These wild, frightened creatures taxed his patienceand his resource; but they hardly touched his temper in the least. 

"What's the use of thrashing a beast that's mad with terror?" heanswered one critical amateur who had watched the game from a safedistance. "The creature is in a funk, as it is; there's no use inadding to it. All I'm after is to teach 'em that saddles and bridlesdon't bite. Treat 'em decently and sit tight, and they'll come rightand learn to trust you in the end. "

And, as mount after mount was delivered over to the waitingauthorities, it came to be a matter of general belief that theregimental rough-rider knew his business, albeit he accomplished itmore by dint of urging than by many blows. Six weeks of this workhad told upon him, told in the right direction. Under the brownskin, the muscles stood out like knotted cords; his nerves weresteady; he ate like a wolf and slept the dreamless sleep of ahealthy child. To the outward eye, his face changed but little. Itsoutlines were more rugged, the curves of his lips a bit moreresolute; but that was all. 

Now and then, amid the merry group at the camp fire, he sat silent, while he let his mind range away to the southward. Somewhere there, in the green-ringed town in the mountain's shelter, was a tall girlwith yellow hair and eyes which matched the zenith when it darkensafter the dropping of the sun. His fancy painted her in everyconceivable situation: walking, riding, resting at noonday in theshaded western end of the veranda, or pouring tea for relays ofthirsty guests. As a rule, the Captain's figure was in thebackground of these pictures, and Weldon was content to have it so. In all South Africa, these were his two best friends; it was goodthat they could be together. And the Captain was an older man, mucholder. When one lives in the open air during twenty-four hours ofevery day, jealousy has scant place in his mind. The smaller vicesare for the cramped town, not for the limitless, unbroken veldt. 

And now and then a day brought with it a letter, frank, friendly andfull of news. Those days Weldon marked with a white stone; but hissleep, on those nights, was as quiet and dreamless as ever. Factswere facts. Theories and hopes were for the future; and no man looksmuch to the future in a time of war. 

Besides the letters, there were minor events, too, events which wentto fill up the letters of reply. Now it was a hospital train whichhalted at the camp on the way southward, and each red-taped nursehad reminded him of Alice Mellen, and of those last days inJohannesburg. Now it was a two-day trek, as escort for a convoytrain whose long lines of bullock-drawn wagons marked the brownveldt with a wavering stripe of duller brown. Again a wounded picketcame straying back to camp, bleeding and dazed, to report theinevitable sniping which furnished the running accompaniment to mostother events; or an angry squad came riding in, to tell of the shotswhich had followed close upon the raising of the white flag, or ofthe score of armed men who had suddenly leaped out from the safeshelter of a Red-Cross ambulance. And, on one occasion, he had beenin the thick of a similar fray. Hand to hand, he had fought on thedoorsteps of a farmhouse to which he and his five comrades had beenbidden by a sprightly Boer in gown and sunbonnet. At the door, thebonnet had been cast from the cropped head, and the gown had beenpushed back to give access to the bandolier beneath, while a dozenshots from an upper window had driven them from the dooryard intothe comparative shelter of the lower rooms. The skirmish had endedwith a charge up the stairway. Weldon, that same night, had writtento Ethel a wholly humorous account of the whole affair, and it wasnot until long afterwards that she had learned from Carew, who hadbeen of the party, which was the trooper who had mounted guard overthe room where the aged grandmother had tucked herself away underher bed. The old Dutch vrouw had bidden him to share her shelter;but he had taken note of her dimensions, and had declined herhospitality. Later on, when the fight was over and she had painfullywriggled her way out from her trap, he had also declined certain ofher manifestations of gratitude. Even chivalry to the aged possessesits humorous side. 

Then, one November night, Weldon came into his tent with alert stepand glowing eyes. He found Carew going through his camp outfit indetail, and, squatting on the floor in the corner, Kruger Bobs wascleaning accoutrements as if his life depended on it. 

"You look as if events were about to happen, " he observed, from thedispassionate distance of the doorway. 

"They are. "

"Ask them to include me, then. "

"What do you need of events, you regimental broncho-buster?"

"One gets sick of even the best horseflesh in time, " he answerednonchalantly. 

"Sorry, for you are doomed to more of it. "

"Another herd of bronchos?" Weldon's voice showed that the ideadispleased him. 

"No; but a two-hundred-mile trek across country. "

"Good. I am tired of being cooped up, and a spin of that kind willbe a boon. "

Carew settled back on his heels and looked up at him. 

"Spin is it! Your only spin will be on your own axis. We are to actas escort for a convoy train of fifty wagons and ten times fiftymules. We shall make six miles a day, and our tongues will be whollycorrupted by the language of the mule-drivers. And, in the end, weshall get to--"

"A glorious fight, I trust, " Weldon supplemented. 

Gloomily Carew shook his head. "No; merely to Winburg. We are goingto provision Weppener and Ladybrand, and then make for the railroadagain. We'll strike it at Winburg most likely. It is an unholy sortof hole, and I hear that the hotel serves watered ink and currantjelly under the name of claret. We shall sit there and sip it, untilthe train arrives, and then we shall entrain and come back again. And this, " he emphasized his words by plumping forward on his kneesonce more; "and this is war!"

"Yes; but it lets us out on a longer leash than I have had for sometime, " Weldon said serenely. "Anyway, it is well for you that it isnot likely to be a bloody campaign, for you'll be headed straightaway from Johannesburg, and I misdoubt me if Winburg holds ahospital. "

"Judging from my past records, it will have to found one, then, "Carew answered composedly. "If I have to go through two hundredmiles of the enemy's country, they might as well open up, inreadiness for my coming. But what is the letter, old man?"

"News. Yours had knocked it out of my mind, though. Mine comes offlater. Captain Frazer has been transferred to the South AfricanLight Horse, and will come up here as adjutant, on the first. "

Carew's face brightened. 

"That's good hearing. He will be higher still, before De Wet istaken. " "I hope so. Anyway, he is coming to us. Think of having himabout again!"

"Much good will it do us! An adjutant doesn't mess with thetrooper. "

"Frazer will stick to his friends. "

"Mayhap. Still, better men than he have gone dizzy, as they went upthe ladder, and dizziness makes people look at what's above them, rather than at what is below, " Carew answered oracularly. "Frazer'sinfluence will be sound, and we shall feel it from one end of thingsto the other. Aside From that, we aren't likely to be much affectedby his coming. Did Miss Dent tell any other news?"

"As it happens, Miss Dent didn't tell me this. "

"Who, then?"

"Captain Frazer, himself, " Weldon answered, with a quiet relish ofhis own victory. "He sends messages and all that to you. " Then headded, "And who else do you think is coming?"

"With him?"

"Yes. "

Carew shook his head. 

"I've no idea, unless Lord Kitchener is about to pay us a visit. There were rumors of it, a week or so ago. "

"Guess again. It's a mightier than Lord Kitchener, this time. "

"Can't be. "

Weldon laughed. "It is, for it is a man trained to two weapons, whohas beaten his kettles into a helmet and his pepper-pot into acartridge-box. "

"Paddy?"

"Yes, Paddy. The Captain writes that he is thirsting for gore andglory, and that he has learned to ride anything from a clotheshorseto a nightmare. "

Carew laughed. 

"Paddy all over. He never could take things as they came. "

"Except Parrott's horse, " Weldon suggested. 

"How did he get out of that scrape?"

"Went out. There was talk of official vengeance; but Paddy vanished, that same night. A week later, he turned up at the Captain's room inCape Town, with a bundle of clothes and a story that was as leaky asa sieve. The Captain sent him out to Maitland to be licked intoshape, and this is the result. "

"No, " Carew objected in a sudden burst of prophecy. "Mind my words, Paddy has not resulted yet. That will come, later on in the game. "

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Winburg may have all the elements of greatness; but greatness itselfis lacking. Nevertheless, after watching a convoy train tool alongover the green-flecked yellow veldt at the rate of six miles a day, after seeing nothing but an occasional isolated farmhouse, thelittle town appeared like a centre of civilization and excitement tothe bored troopers, as they rode up the main street and pitched campon the western edge of the town. There they sat and idly wonderedbehind which particular hill was the largest commando. No type ofboredom is more acute than that which links itself with periods ofinaction in the army. Fifteen minutes would have sufficed to exhaustthe resources of Winburg; the troopers remained there for fifteendays. Only Kruger Bobs was fully in his element. His daily groomingof the broncho and his master once over, his time was his own, andhe employed it to the best of his ability. Fate had endowed KrugerBobs with a smile which won instant liking and gained instantfulfilment of his wishes. Just as, months before, he had sat on theriver bank at Piquetberg Road, and grinned persuasively at the jamtins, so now he ranged up and down among the farms scattered aboutWinburg, and grinned himself into possession of manifold eggs andplump fowls and even of soft wheat bread, the final luxury of thebiscuit-sated trooper who owned his fealty. 

"'Is thy servant a dog?'" Carew had quoted gravely at sight of hisfirst army biscuit. 

And Weldon had made answer, --

"Not if he knows it. I have always had full sympathy with my houndwho leaves his dog-bread in favor of a bit of oak planking gnawedout from his kennel floor. "

But Carew was less dainty. Nevertheless, he attacked the biscuitwith two flat stones, and mixed the debris with his coffee. 

Now, however, thanks to the efforts of Kruger Bobs, they were livingthriftily and upon the fat of the land. 

"How do you get it all, Kruger Bobs?" Weldon had demanded, one day. "To my sure knowledge, you've no money, and people hereabouts don'tlove the British. What is your secret?"

Kruger Bobs ducked his bristly head into his ragged hat, and gave anexplosive chuckle. Then he raised his head and scratched itdemurely. 

"Kruger Bobs just gits it, Boss, " he explained comprehensively. 

He came in, the next night, his pockets stuffed, his mouth wide ajarand the very whites of his eyes full of mystery. Carew and Weldon, sitting together, glanced up as he appeared. Instantly, as he caughtsight of Carew, Kruger Bobs veiled his emotion and sought to becomeproperly nonchalant. Nevertheless, it was plain that he had tidingsto impart; and at length, over the top of Carew's head, he fell tomaking graphic, yet totally unintelligible, signs to his master. 

"What in thunder do you want, Kruger Bobs?" Weldon demanded. 

Kruger Bobs heaved an ostentatious sigh, cast at Weldon one flashinggrin, and then asked dolorously, --

"Me speak Boss out dere?"

"What under heaven is the matter with you, Kruger Bobs?" Weldonasked, as he departed on the heels of his serving man. 

Kruger Bobs slapped his thigh noiselessly, vanished behind hissmile, then reappeared to put his lips to Weldon's ear and whisperin raucous triumph--"Syb down dere Winburg. "

"What? Who is Syb?" Weldon queried blankly. 

Kruger Bobs straightened, in dignified resentment at his master'signorance. 

"Syb be my vrouw soon. "

"Oh, I see. No wonder you look elated, you rascal. So you have beencourting?"

The grin reappeared. "Ya, Boss. More, too. "

"What now?" "Kruger Bobs got despatch from Syb for Boss. "

Weldon's face expressed his amusement. 

"Much obliged to the lady. Give her mine. " "Syb say--" Again thethick black lips approached Weldon's ear, and the bristly headnodded energetically in time to the moving lips. 

"Who?" Weldon said incredulously. "Miss Mellen?"

"Ya, Boss. "

"How does Syb--Is that what you call her?--how does she know? Oh, Iremember now. It is the girl who served at Miss Mellen's home, "Weldon said, as light began to dawn. 

"Ya, Boss; dat Syb. "

"And she is here with Miss Mellen?"

Kruger Bobs nodded. 

"What are they doing?"

"Dey is nurses sick mens. " "How long have they been here?"

"One, tree, five day. "

"Five days, " Weldon translated to himself. "It was an odd chance, your running on her so soon. Did she know we were here?"

"She tink ya, " Kruger Bobs replied. "Syb no tell. " "But why not?"

The matter-of-course question appeared to fill Kruger Bobs withamazement. 

"Boss make night march, " he answered. "She may not care to have me. Still, we'll ride out there with you in the morning. "

"Boss?"

"Mr. Carew and myself. "

Kruger Bobs looked hurt. In hot excitement, the black fingers closedon a fold of the brown sleeve. 

"Kruger Bobs go, too?"

"What makes you want to go?"

"Syb dere, Boss. "

"I don't see what difference that makes, " Weldon said reflectively. 

Once more Kruger Bobs turned coy. 

"Boss go see his vrouw; me go see Syb, " he explained briefly. 

Weldon's laugh astonished him; still more Weldon's answer. 

"Oh, Kruger Bobs, you love-struck calf! Because you're in love withSyb, do you think it follows that I am in love with Miss Mellen?"

Kruger Bobs plotted geometrical problems with his left toe. 

"Syb say, " he replied at length. Then he raised his eyes from hisproblem. "Boss vrouw good, " he ventured persuasively. 

Weldon laughed again. 

"So we all think. Mr. Carew knows her much better than I do, though, and Miss Mellen would be hurt, if he didn't go out to see her. "

But Kruger Bobs stood his ground. "Boss Weldon go see his vrouw;Kruger Bobs go see his vrouw; Boss Carew no vrouw. "

However, in spite of the advice of Kruger Bobs, Carew was atWeldon's side, as they rode through Winburg, the next morning. 

Already the country was taking on the look of summer, and the dustystretches of veldt were tinged here and there with thin patches ofgrowing green. Over the hills nearest the town were scattered thelines of ruined trenches, still littered here and there with rustytools dropped there by the Boers when, long months before, they hadcaught sight of the advancing armies of French and Hutton. As theydrew nearer, Weldon could make out the familiar details of a fieldhospital: the low white tents in their circle of whitewashed stones, the Red-Cross nurses hurrying to and fro and the blue-coatedconvalescents strolling leisurely about the enclosure. Carew, meanwhile, had pushed forward. Above the P. M. O. 's tent flutteredthe Red Cross, and he had caught sight of a white apron and ascarlet cape in the open door. 

"Miss Mellen! Alice!"

In the still air of a summer noon, Carew's voice carried distinctlyback to Weldon. He glanced towards the tent. Then, beckoning toKruger Bobs, he turned and rode away to inspect the distantlandscape. 

An hour later, Kruger Bobs was squatting on the ground, a heapedplate on his knees and a smile of rapture surrounding his smackinglips. Near him, the three horses munched contentedly, stampinglightly now and then and whisking their tails to drive off thebuzzing flies. Outside the door of the tent, Alice Mellen sat on abench, with Carew at her side and Weldon sprawling lazily on theground at her feet. 

"Twenty-seven inside, " she told them. "It is mostly enteric and S. C. , men who have been sent here from Bloemfontein. Their hospitalsare overcrowded. We have both sorts here, you know. "

"Nursing Boers?" Carew asked, disapprovingly. 

"Why not? They are men, plucky men, too, some of them. I rather likethe race. Anyway, it makes an interesting mixture. We have had toput them all together, and they get on capitally, exchanging storiesand gossip and sympathy like men of the same company. One of them, aBoer, --" she hesitated for the right word; then she adopted thevernacular of the service--"went out, the other day; and, among hismourners, the sincerest ones were the two London Tommies in the twonext beds. War isn't all hatred, by any means. Turn nurse for amonth and you'll find it out. "

"Or else turn patient, " Carew interpolated quietly. 

Her color came; but she only turned more directly to Weldon. 

"I was glad to come here for a change, " she added. "Shall you stayhere long?"

"It is impossible to tell. The other nurses here are younger at itthan I, and there are some hard cases. If it were not for Syb, Ishould be at my wits' end sometimes. "

"Then ought you to stay here?" Carew urged, with a sudden assumptionof proprietorship which sat well upon him. 

She faced him with a smile. 

"Oh, but this is nothing in comparison with Johannesburg. There thework is agonizing. Between wounds and enteric, the place is crammed, and we can't get the nurses we absolutely need. My mother thought Iwas growing too tired, and she sent Syb up here to take care of me. Instead, I have pressed her into the service and trained her untilshe is one of the best nurses I have ever had under me. The menadore her, she is so strong and so full of her queer, jolly fun. "

With his head pillowed on his arms, Weldon lay watching herthoughtfully. Under her piles of inky hair, her face looked thin, and the shadows lay heavy around her eyes. Nevertheless, the eyeswere shining and the curves of the lips were all upward. Plainly theday had brought her a tonic; yet the past six months had told uponthe girl pitilessly. 

"But, for God's sake, when is it all to end?" he burst out suddenly. 

"Tired of the service, Mr. Weldon?" she asked gravely, but with noaccent of reproach. 

"Not tired of my own. But the worst of it all comes back on youwomen, and that is maddening. "

She smiled down at him, and the light in her eyes deepened and grewyet more womanly. 

"It is all we can do to help, Mr. Weldon. Let us take what share wecan. The work is hard, hard and discouraging; but--" involuntarilyshe glanced at Carew's happy, handsome face; "but now and then itbrings its own reward. "

The short silence was broken only by Kruger Bobs, scraping his spoonalong his fast-emptying plate. Then Alice spoke again. 

"You hear often from Cooee, Mr. Weldon?"

"Now and then. Not often. "

"Did you know that she may come to us, after Christmas?"

"No, " he said alertly. "To Johannesburg?"

She nodded. 

"We need her, and my aunt has almost given her consent. The needgrows greater, every day; we can't hold out much longer, unless wecan have more help. Cooee isn't trained at all; but she has endlesstact and she knows how to take orders. Unless January brings usfewer patients, I think she will come north for a month. " "Does shewish to?"

Alice laughed. 

"As a matter of mere conscience. Cooee hates lint and disinfectantsand the hush of things; but she begins to see the need before her. She makes all manner of fun of me, and of the whole hospital schemeof things; but still I think she will come. My aunt opposes it; butwe are trying to compromise on a month. That won't wear Cooee out, and the novelty will last for that length of time, and help keep upher enthusiasm. "

"Did you know Captain Frazer is coming up, in a week or two?"

For an instant, Alice's eyes clouded. 

"No. When did you hear?"

"Just as I left camp. The appointment took him quite by surprise, and he wrote to me at once, " Weldon answered with quiet dignity, forhe was not slow to read the question in the girl's mind. 

Her face cleared. 

"I hadn't heard. Cooee's last letter is three weeks old, so itcouldn't bring the news. " Then she glanced over her shoulder, as oneof the doctors halted on the threshold. "Am I needed?"

"Young Walpole is just going, " he said gravely. "He has asked foryou. "

Both men rose to their feet. It was Carew, however, who lingered. 

"We are leaving Winburg, to-morrow, so this is good by, " he saidregretfully. "Take care of yourself, Alice, and bless you!" And, underneath its happiness, his boyish face was unusually grave, as hemounted and rode away at Weldon's side. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Christmas morning found the camp at Lindley wakening to a generalatmosphere of peace and good will to man. Scarcely fifty miles awayat Tweefontein, De Wet's midnight charge had left behind it sixtymen sleeping their last grim sleep in defiance of the peace ordainedfor the Christmas dawn. And, midway between the camp of the livingand the line of the dead, there lay the little town of Bethlehem. 

After the frosty night, the day came, hot and clear, with the sunbeating down from a cloudless sky and the mirage dancing upon thedistant horizon. To the men from the north, it was a bit of a shockto exchange Christmas greetings, while the thermometer went slidingup to the mark of one hundred degrees. Nevertheless, they hailed oneanother lustily, and threw themselves into the spirit of the holidayfeast with the zest of schoolboys. 

For full three months now, the greater number of the troopers hadbeen dodging up and down over the surface of the Orange River Colonyon the heels of the tireless De Wet. After accomplishing fortyfutile miles a day, after subsisting chiefly upon army biscuits andbully beef, they had earned their right to rest. This, at least, wasthe opinion of their adjutant. 

All the day before, there had been flying rumors of a forced marchon the following morning; but no orders had been given, and just atnightfall had come the definite announcement that no move would bemade until after Christmas. Those who had seen their adjutant goingaway from the colonel's tent, half an hour before, were able to drawtheir own conclusions. The rest accepted the fact as it stood, andmade no effort to account for the change in their plans. It wasenough for them that two thousand sheep were to be roasted, to theend that every man might eat his fill; and they took an eager hand, next morning, in scooping out the ant-hill and kindling the firesinside. Then, seated on the ground, they spun their yarns while theywaited until the white-hot earth on top of the hill gave notice thatthe oven was ready for the roast. 

Carew, meanwhile, was unpacking the neat little parcel which hadcome to him with Christmas greeting from the Daughters of theEmpire. Lined up for inspection before breakfast, every trooper hadreceived an exactly similar parcel; every one had given expressionto his thankful heart; then every one had gone away to inspect theoffering. 

"This is kind of the ladies, very kind, " Carew was observing, with aperfectly grave face, as he drew out a handkerchief of spotty redcotton and a khaki-colored nightcap. "Look, Weldon! These fit mycomplexion to a charm, and will be wonderfully warm and comfortable. What is in your grab bag?"

"Ditto, apparently, " Weldon answered. "I think I shall keep these tosport about at home in. "

Carew shook his head. 

"Oh, no. The kind ladies wish us to use them now, and you shouldaccept the gift according to the spirit in which it is given. "Taking off his wide felt hat, he replaced it with the wool nightcap, covered the nightcap with the handkerchief and then put on the hatover all the rest. "And what have we here?" he continued. "A pipe?Oh, the naughty ladies! Cigarettes?" He smelled at them gingerly, then sneezed into a corner of the scarlet kerchief. "Matches, shoelaces, and, by George, a cake of soap! Now, if we only had afarmer's almanac and a flannel chest-protector, we'd be quitecomplete. "

Weldon laughed. Then he beckoned to a little trooper standing besidethe nearest ant-hill. 

"Paddy, " he said gravely; "these toys are excellent toys. Ifanything should happen to me, I'll will them to you. "

Paddy thrust his hand into his pocket, drew out his own nightcap anddangled it by its khaki-colored tip. 

"And look at it!" he said slowly. "The spirit is willing and full ofpeace; but what would I be doing with that thing, I who never had ahat on my head till I was ten years old, let alone a cap?"

"Wrap your feet in it, then, " Carew suggested. "It's large enoughfor them both. Paddy, who eats at your ant-hill?"

The little Irishman winked knowingly. 

"Them as invites theirselves, first off. If it's you and Mr. Weldon, so much the better for Paddy. The rum ration is doubled, the day;knowing the habits of you both, I'm thinking I see my way to gettingsix times gloriously drunk. There's beer by the hogshead, too. It'llbe a mighty Christmas dinner, the first in years I've eaten withoutcooking. "

"You generally eat it raw?" Carew questioned blandly. 

"Praised be Patrick, no; but it's Paddy who has done the cooking. This year, I am free from my pots and kettles, and can eat with thebest of them. Little Canuck dear, don't ever enlist as a cook. Nothing spoils the stomach of you like the smell of the warmingbroth. "

"You like the change, then, Paddy?" Weldon asked, as he thriftilypacked up his parcel and stowed it away in his pocket, with an eyeto the gratitude of Kruger Bobs. 

"Like, is it? I rejoice greatly and shout, as the Book bids us. It'sa man's work I'm doing now; it's with men that I am doing that work, and it's a man who leads me on to do that work, meaning CaptainFrazer. "

"Where is the Captain now?"

Paddy dropped down on the ground, midway between his friends and hisant-hill. 

"Over yonder, doing the work of an honest man and a warrior. "

"That goes without saying. What now?"

But Paddy chose to speak in metaphors. 

"He's thrown down his sword and picked up his bottle, " he respondedenigmatically. 

"Not drinking?" Weldon asked incredulously. 

"No, little one; not doing, but doing by. He's administering adviceand physic to them cormyrants of Queenslanders. The Colonials are ahard race to manage and a greedy. " Paddy spoke with an accent ofextreme disfavor. 

"What have the poor Queenslanders done?"

"Poor it is; not poor in spirit, but poor in judgment. They'veconverted the top course of their dinner into the bottom course oftheir breakfast, and now they're suffering according. Next time, when their kyind officers order them up, each a little Crosse andBlackwell plum pudding, they'll know enough to eat them up hot on afull stomach, not bolt them down cold on top of a lone layer ofdog-bread. Man is permitted to make such errors but once in his life, without having Providence get after him and slay him. LittleCanuck?" "Paddy?"

"The top of the ant-hill is white with heat, and the lambie mustenter the roasting tomb. Will you and Mr. Carew eat with me?"

"We've no intention of eating anywhere else, Paddy. We know yourcooking of old. "

"It's an honor you'll be doing me, then. And, moreover--" Paddyhesitated, with the words sticking to his lips. 

"What now?"

"Think you the Captain--I mean the Adjutant; but he'll always be theCaptain to me--would he take it amiss, think you, little one, if Isent him a bit of the joint, for the sake of old times? He'll likebe eating truffled ostrich and locust sauce at the mess; but Paddy'dlike to have a hand in his Christmas dinner. It's all I can do forhim, and he's done much for me. "

"Try him and see, Paddy, " Weldon advised. "If I know Captain Frazer, he'll have nothing to-day that will please him more. "

With feasting and story-telling and the inevitable letters to wifeand sweetheart, the sunshiny day lost itself in twilight and thetwilight in the chill of night. Along the line of the blockhousesfor miles away, lights began to twinkle out from the narrowloopholes. Throughout the camp, answering lights twinkled back atthem till the night was spotted thick with dots of yellow, winkingup at the yellow stars above. And around the camp and theblockhouses lay the dark, measureless veldt, and the veldt was verystill. 

Stillness was not in the camp, however. Even the gluttonousQueenslanders had recovered from their woes of the morning; and, from end to end of the great enclosure, there was a spirit ofmerrymaking born of the feast day, the dinner and the unwontedallowance of rum. In the groups scattered about the camp fires, tongues wagged freely of home, of boyhood, of adventures in pastyears. War talk was tabooed that night. According to his custom, Tommy ignored the present and ranged at large over the remote pastand yet remoter future. 

Carew, with the easy adaptability which marked him, was the centralfigure of one of the groups where he acted as a species oftoastmaster, to direct the trend of the stories and lead thesinging. Weldon sat slightly apart, watching the firelit groupbefore him, while his mind trailed lazily to and fro, from home, with its holly wreaths in the windows, to Cape Town where theflower-boxes edging a wide veranda would be a mass of geraniumblossoms now, and where, in the shady western end, would sit a tallgirl with hair the color of the yellow flame. Strangely enough, tohis honest, straightforward mind it never occurred to doubt that shewas thinking of him, sending a Christmas wish in his direction. Morethan once she had given proof of her liking for him, her interest inhis concerns. Her blue eyes had met his eyes steadily, kindly. Weldon had certain old-fashioned notions of womanhood which not allof his social life had been able to beat out of him. Far back in hisboyhood, his mother, still a social leader at home, had told him itwas unmanly to flirt. A good and loyal woman would have no share inflirtation; women of the other sort could have no share in his life. Weldon was no Galahad. He had danced and dined with many women, hadgiven sympathy to some, chaff to others; nevertheless, his relationswith them had been curiously direct and simple. Quite unconsciouslyto himself, his mother's code had become ingrained in the very fibreof his being. And now he was ready to stand or fall by his judgmentthat Ethel Dent, Cooee as he called her in his secret heart, was asgood and loyal as a woman could be. The future seemed to him soobvious that he made no effort to forecast it. He was content towait. 

"Christmas is nearly over, Weldon. "

He roused himself abruptly, as Captain Frazer dropped down at hisside. 

"Yes; but the revel will outlast the day, " he answered, laughing. "Tommy is in his glory now, and it will take more than taps to makehim subside. "

"Perhaps. He has rioted most joyously. Christmas has been no emptymockery to him. " Weldon's quick ear detected a ring of melancholy inthe Captain's voice. 

"Has it to you?"

The Captain sat silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the winkingfires. 

"Not really. Of course, we all have been a bit homesick, and I cansee no shame in confessing it. Besides, after one gets out of hiswindsor-tie stage of life, these especial holidays seem to mark timeso. One thinks back to this time, last year; and one has to wonder abit where he will be, a year from now. A good deal can happen in ayear. "

"For better, or for worse, " Weldon added. 

The words caught the Captain's ear. 

"Yes, for better or for worse, " he repeated; "in sickness and inhealth. A year is a long time. Tell me, have you heard lately fromMiss Dent?"

Long afterwards, the question came back to Weldon, with the obviousassociation of ideas. Now he answered, with perfect unconcern, --

"Not for three or four weeks. "

"I have heard since you, then. She wrote, last week, and sentgreeting to you and Mr. Carew. "

"Thank you. Give mine back to her; that is, if you are writing. "

"I shall write, to-night, " the Captain said briefly. 

"Then please send her my wishes for Christmas and New Year's both. You might also remind her to write to me. She writes wonderfullygood letters. " Turning his eyes from the fire, the Captain watchedhim steadily for a moment. Unconscious of his companion's gaze, Weldon was staring out across the camp, his lips framed to anoiseless whistling, his face full of dreamy content. The Captainstudied the happy, resolute young face, drew a deep breath and thenturned to the fire once more. 

"Yes, " he assented. "But you would know that, from hearing hertalk. "

Suddenly, Weldon's lips straightened, and he faced the Captaindirectly. 

"I like Miss Dent, " he said frankly. "Of course, you know that. But, moreover, I have always felt I owed her a debt of gratitude forintroducing me to you. I know one doesn't usually say such things, Captain Frazer, " he laughed, in sudden boyish embarrassment; "but itis a little different on Christmas night, you know. Next year, wemay be miles apart, and so, if you don't mind, I'd like to say thatyou have been wonderfully good to me, this year, and that Iappreciate it. "

Captain Frazer took the outstretched hand, slim, but hard now, and abit stubby about the nails. 

"Thank you, Weldon, " he answered. "This may be our only Christmastogether, and I am glad you told me. "

The silence about them was broken by the voices of the soldierssinging around the camp fires and by the bagpipes playing somewhereacross the distance. Then, after a little, they fell to talking ofother things, with the natural antipathy of healthy men to anyrecurrence of a momentary outburst of sentiment. 

Around them, the fires flared and flamed across the darkness; beyondthem, the veldt stretched away, sinister, mysterious; and from abovethe stars twinkled down upon them, smiling a Christmas blessingalike on those who were doomed to glory and those who were doomed todeath. For an instant, the sudden pause in the singing and laughterseemed typical of the short, sudden pause in their active lives. Then, as the Captain rose, the singing broke out once more, Carew'svoice leading. 

"Good-night, Weldon. I must go back to my quarters. "

"And to your letters?"

"Yes, to my letters. And may next Christmas be good to us both!"

Weldon rose and saluted, then stood looking after his companion ashe walked away, head and shoulders erect and his lips smilingslightly, as if in anticipation of the task before him. And, meanwhile, from the fire near by came the lusty chorus, --

 "A little brown cot, a shady green spot, No happier home I find. My heart's fairly gone, for I love only one, She's the gi-irl I le-eft behind. "

The voices, rollicking even in their sentimentality, dropped awayinto silence; the fire flared up and then suddenly died away intodarkness. But, even in the darkness, Weldon could see the dimoutline of the Captain's figure, moving steadily forward along hisself-appointed way. 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lord Kitchener, one night in early February, was sitting on the apexof a vast triangle in the northern end of the Orange River Colony. Two sides of the triangle were made up of long lines of blockhouses, strung on a chain of barbed-wire fencing. The blockhouses were ofloop-holed stone or iron with iron roofs, and they were separatedfrom each other by only a few hundred yards. The barbed-wire chainwhich strung together these zigzag lines was five strands wide, andit was edged with a five-foot trench and now and then with anadditional length of stone wall. Beyond the fences were the railroadlines, and up and down over the tracks armored trains carryingsearch-lights were running to and fro, to shed all possible lightupon the fences and upon the enclosure beyond. The third side of thetriangle consisted of an infinite number of men in khaki, and itsdensity varied entirely according to its position. At first, itopened out to a thin line of troopers scattered over the arc of animmense circle; then it drew in until an army stood in fightingarray straight across the veldt from Heilbron to Kroonstad. AndWolvehoek was the apex of the triangle. 

Experience had taught the master brain of the British army that itwas useless longer to chase De Wet up and down over the face of theearth. The Boer general was familiar with every crack and cranny ofthat earth. He knew where to hide, where to dodge, where to scurryaway as fast as his convoy train could bear him company. Behind him, plucky, but totally in ignorance of the natural advantages of thecountry, toiled and perspired and skirmished the British army. Horses were exhausted, men were killed and supply wagons werecaptured, all to little or no purpose. If the quarry could not betaken by direct pursuit, it was needful to have recourse to themethods of the ranch. Pursuit failing, it was time for a round-up. 

To this end, the Orange River Colony had been marked off intosections by the rows of blockhouses strung upon barbed wire. Driveafter drive had been made into these enclosures; and every drive hadbrought its bag of game. But still the general himself had eludedthem. Early in February, however, a giant drive had been planned, directed away from the enclosure in order that, once De Wet tookrefuge in his usual trick of doubling back upon his pursuers, heshould find himself caught in the open trap. And, secure in theultimate success of his plan, Lord Kitchener waited at Wolvehoek inexpectation of its end. 

The drive had been made, De Wet had doubled, and now the base of thetriangle was flowing in upon him, fully confident of success atlast. And the base was in part made up of the South African LightHorse, and Carew and Weldon were of that Horse, and they rejoicedaccordingly. 

Nightfall of the sixth found the quarry well inside the triangle, and the South African Light Horse drawn up in a straight linerunning westward from Lindley. The officers slept in their boots, that night, and every trooper held himself tense in his blankets, ready to cease snoring at an instant's notice. And far away to thenorthward, the moving search-lights carved the frosty darkness withtheir blinding cones of light. 

Weldon was ordered out on picket duty, that night. All day long, hehad ridden hard, until even the zeal of Piggie had begun to flag. Nevertheless, as the broad stripe of yellow reluctantly died out ofthe western sky, his excited brain denied to his tired muscles thesleep which they demanded. Accordingly, it was a relief when hisorders came, and he found himself advancing cautiously out into theshadowy veldt. 

Contrary to his usual mood when on picket, Weldon had no sense ofloneliness, that night. Reaching away from him on either hand wasthe huge enclosing wall of humanity, pacing to and fro on picketduty, guarding the blockhouses, patrolling the wire fences between. Every man was alert to his duty; every nerve was taut with theconsciousness that somewhere within the cordon was the leader whoheretofore had escaped them, that each man was a link forged in theendless chain which was stretched around the invisible enemy. And, meanwhile, the starless sky and the waiting chain were equallysilent and equally freighted with mystery. And the future seemedfull of portent and very near. 

Then, as the midnight hour swung past him, Weldon heard the rustleof a quiet footfall. It was Captain Frazer's voice that answered hischallenge. 

"I was looking for you, Weldon, " he added. 

"For anything especial?"

"No. I felt restless and couldn't sleep, so I thought I would go theround of the pickets. They said you were out here. Where is Carew?"

"In my sleeping-bag. I don't encourage him for a neighbor just now. He draws too much fire. "

The Captain laughed softly. 

"He is an unlucky beggar. Eight, nine, how many times is it that hehas been hit? He ought to engage a private nurse. "

"He has. " And Weldon explained the little scene at the door of thehospital tent. 

"Happy fellow! He deserves her, though. But it is an idealcombination, that of nurse and soldier, " the Captain answeredlightly. Then he asked, "What sort of a day have you had?"

"Rousing. Now the question is: what sort of a night are we going tohave?"

"The night of our lives, I suspect, " the Captain replied, still inthe low tone in which all their talk had been made. "The orders areto close in at daylight, and work the game up towards Wolvehoek;but, if I know anything at all of De Wet, he won't wait tilldaylight. "

"You think he will fight?"

"If he does, it will be a fight to the finish, " the Captain saidgravely. 

Weldon's grip tightened on his rifle. 

"When will it come?"

"Heaven only knows. Probably just before light. He will take thisend of things, on account of avoiding the railroads and--"

Weldon's hand shut on his arm. 

"Hush! What's that?"

Swiftly the Captain's gravity vanished, and he laughed. 

"By George, here they are!" he exclaimed. 

From the veldt to the northward, there came a confused din ofrushing, trampling feet; a cloud of dust, lifted on the nightbreeze, swept down upon them; and then a herd of stampeding cattledashed madly past, noses to earth and tails lashing in furious fear. An instant later, the darkness to the left was shattered by dots oflight, and the air snapped with the double crack of Mauser rifles. Far to the northward, though muffled by distance, there was morefiring, and yet more; and ever the moving searchlights carved theirway to and fro through the inky night. 

Like a dog on the scent and ready for the plunge, Captain Frazer hadstraightened to the full of his height and stood tense, waiting aninstant to measure the scope of the coming fight. 

"It's a row, sure enough; and thank God, I'm in it!" he said quietlythen. "Come back to the line, Weldon. There'll be work for us all, in a few minutes. "

Even as he spoke, and while they were hurrying back to the squadron, a random shot pierced the darkness just before them, and a bulletwhirred close above their heads. Another shot tossed up a spray ofdust at their feet, and a third fell full in the tent where Carewwas swiftly tightening his belts and assuring himself that hisbandoliers were full. 

They found the camp already humming like a hive of angry bees. Asmall matter of forty miles a day counted for nothing to men wakenedfrom heavy sleep to face the firing of an invisible foe. There wasno need of the murmured report that De Wet had bidden his followersbreak through the British chain wherever its links were weakest. Instinctively each man threw himself into fighting array, convincedthat the present minute marked the climax of the past days. 

And, meanwhile, the limitless darkness shut down over the determinedcordon of British men facing steadily inward towards the foe whichthey could not see; over the scattered knots of Boer horsemen, secure in their full knowledge of every yard of the ground, ridingforward to fight their way through the chain into the veldt beyond. And, far to the northward, De Wet was lurking in shadow long enoughto cut the wires and then ride away with his trio of faithfulfollowers. 

To Weldon, fresh from the darkness and silence of the open veldt, itseemed as if, of a sudden, the frosty night were tattered intoshreds. As the fight waxed hot about him, he lost all memory of theintermediate stages. At one instant, all had been still and dim; atanother, the air before him was thick with vivid rifle flashes, hisears were full of the strident din of flying bullets, of shoutingmen, of squealing, moaning horses. For a time, he could see nothingof the enemy but the flashing dots of fire. Then the dots drewnearer, closed up, and the din was increased by the rattle of fixingbayonets, by the dull, sucking sound of steel prodded into softmasses, and by the thud of falling bodies. And always from the outercircle the pitiless rain of bullets came splashing down upon them, striking impartially on friend and on foe. 

Side by side in the foremost rank, Weldon and Carew were fightinglike tigers. Carew's cheek was gashed by a passing bullet, andWeldon's coat showed dark and wet over his left shoulder; butneither man was conscious of pain, or of fear, or of anything elsethan a surly determination to check the maddening rush before them. Carew was slashing about him with all the strength of arm andbayonet; but Weldon, disdaining his bayonet, was firing with asteady aim which sent one man and then another to join the heap onthe ground at his feet. 

A second bullet grazed his wrist, and a horseman swept down uponhim. For an instant, he wavered. Then he straightened his shouldersand took careful aim. From ten feet away, he had heard a ringingorder, and the order had been given, not in the voice of his owncaptain, but in that of Captain Frazer who, as ranking officer, hadtaken command of the fight into which chance had led him. Weldon'severy nerve answered to the tonic of that voice. Not sinceVlaakfontein had he been under its command. Nevertheless, the oldspell was upon him, and he responded to its call. An instant before, the rush towards him had seemed indomitable. Those furious, fightinghorsemen could not be stayed in their course. Now he braced himselffor the shock of their coming, while tired hand and blurring eyeroused themselves to do the bidding of his brain. He was dimly awarethat Paddy had struggled forward to his other side and, shoulder toshoulder with him, was helping to beat back the iron-like forcepressing down upon them. Then, with the keen grasp of triflingdetail which often marks the supreme moment of mental exhaustion, hebecame conscious that the hairy tail which brushed across his facewas unduly coarse and tangled, while a sudden cheer from around himtold that the Boers were turning in flight. 

Dazed, he drew his hand across his face, and stared wonderingly atthe scarlet drops on his fingers. Then he turned and looked down atPaddy with a whimsical, questioning smile. Paddy repeated his query. 

"Are you hurt, little one?" he demanded, for the second time, as heshook Weldon's arm. 

Weldon steadied at the touch. 

"No; only scratched a bit. It is nothing to last at all. Are you allright?"

Paddy shut his hand over a shattered finger. 

"Glory be! And the snakes of Boers is wriggling off to their holes. And now, where's the Captain?"

They found him a little apart from the line, slightly to the frontand close beside a scattered heap of bearded men. His face was whiteand the lines of his face were rigid and drawn; but he hailed themjust as he always had been used to do. 

"My luck has changed, " he added quietly. "They have taken my leg, this time. Still, it's not so very painful. I'll fill my pipe first, and then will you two fellows help me back, till we can find anambulance?"

CHAPTER NINETEEN

In a quiet corner of the crowded hospital at Johannesburg, onenarrow bed was screened away from its neighbors. Beside the bed satEthel Dent, and Weldon leaned against the wall beyond. Both of themwere smiling bravely down into the dark-fringed blue eyes which mettheir eyes with a steady wishfulness. With the end so plain insight, why keep up the pretence of being blind to its approach?

An operation had been the final chance, and the chance had failed. Out from the stupor of ether, out from the hours of bewilderingpain, Captain Frazer had come back to an interval of fullconsciousness, of fuller knowledge that, for him, this painlessinterval was but the prelude to the final painless sleep. Nevertheless, the man who had helped other men to die unflinchinglywas facing death with a grave, unflinching smile, albeit life to himwas good and full of promise. The interval was short. He would passthrough it in manlike fashion, and, meanwhile, give thanks thatbeside his bed sat the one woman in whom his whole future so longhad centered. 

The slow moments passed by, unheeded. It was an hour since thesurgeons had gone away; it was nearly an hour since Alice Mellen hadfollowed the surgeons. Instinctively she realized that her place wasotherwhere. There was no need now for skilled nurses. Ethel could doall the little which would be required, and it was Ethel's right tostay. 

Since Alice had left them, no word had been spoken. The Captain hadlittle strength for words as yet. It was taking all his energy andcourage to face the truth and to accept it. Only an hour before, hiscrippled career had seemed to him unbearable. Now, as he lay withhis eyes fixed on the girl beside him, he realized how much ofpotential sweetness that dreary alternative had held. And yet, Fatehad drawn him into the battle, and it was something that he had metFate bravely and in the foremost rank. So far, he had never funked afight; if it took his last bit of strength, he would go pluckilythrough this last, worse fight which he was destined to face. Hestirred slightly, and shut his teeth on his lower lip; but his eyesnever dropped from Ethel's face. From the farther side of the bed, Weldon, too, was watching Ethel. If he lived to full fivescoreyears, he could never forget her face as he had met her at thehospital door, that morning. Exhausted with the excitement of thebattle, stiff with his half-dressed wounds, soiled and untidy andhaggard, he had paused beside the ambulance while the attendants hadlifted the stretcher and borne the Captain up the low flight ofsteps. Then, like a man in a dream, he had followed along behindthem until, on the very threshold, he had raised his heavy eyes tosee Ethel standing before him, a broad shaft of sunshine pouringdown upon her to rest in the locks of sunshiny hair which straggledout from beneath her crisp white cap. 

"Cooee!" he said huskily, as he took her hand. Then, for the firsttime in all those terrible hours since the battle, his lips hadquivered, and two big, boyish tears had rolled out across hischeeks. 

Already the fight seemed to him to be months old. From the first, ithad been the Captain's wish that Weldon should go with him to thehospital, and Weldon would have allowed no other man to go in hisplace. Wounded and weak from loss of blood, nevertheless he forgothis own weakness as he saw the leg, shattered by two bullets, explosive bullets such as are denied to warfare of any but barbarousnations. Young though he was, Weldon had seen many a man woundedbefore now. He was not slow to realize the nature of thealternatives which lay before the man who was at once his hero andhis friend. Mercifully, he had as yet no knowledge how soon the onealternative must be taken from him. 

The case was too grave a one for the surgeons of the field hospital. In after years, that ambulance journey into Kroonstad seemed brandedupon Weldon's memory: the baking heat of the February sun, theinterminable miles of dusty road stretching away between otherinterminable miles of grassy veldt, scarred and seamed here andthere with ridges of naked rock. And at last the ambulance hadjogged into Kroonstad, only to find that no help lay in the hospitalthere, that the journey must be dragged onward through a night rideto Johannesburg. 

If the jolting, crawling ambulance had been bad, the jarring trainwas infinitely worse. The Captain made no complaints; he wasgrateful for every slight attention; he even forced himself to jokea little now and then. Nevertheless, Weldon, sitting beside him andoccasionally laying his own fingers across the steady hand on theblanket, was maddened by the noise of the engine, by the ceaselessthud, thud as the wheels took every new rail, by the roar, and therush, and the dust which filtered in upon them. There was nothing hecould do. He merely sat there beside his friend, and thought. Occasionally, he thought of Ethel; but, for the most part, his mindwas on the man before him, the man whose active career all at oncehad been cut in two. Now and then he thought of the one who hadchosen to fire those bullets, taboo of all but the most brutalwarfare. At such times, he rose and fell to pacing restlessly up anddown the car. Then he controlled himself and resumed his seat. 

Moment by moment, almost second by second, the dreary night had wornaway. It was full morning when the train had halted inside thefamiliar station. After his vigil, the healthy stir of the streetsappeared to Weldon like the confused picture of a dream, and it hadbeen like a man in a dream that he had been driven away to thehospital. Then, on the steps, he had seen Ethel, and the dream hadbeen shattered, giving way, for the instant, to the perfecthappiness of reality. 

But the surgeons at Johannesburg had shaken their heads. The delay, although unavoidable, had been full of danger. One only chanceremained, and they would take that chance. Weldon had lingered untilhe was ordered away; then, with Ethel beside him, he had gone tofind a doctor who could dress his own wounds and make him fit toface the ordeal which he knew was awaiting him. For one shortmoment, he had felt Ethel's hands busy about his shoulder and headand wrist, had rejoiced in the quiet strength of their soothingtouch. For another moment, their eyes had met; but no word had beenspoken between them. Then Alice had come to them, bringing thesurgeon's verdict. That had been an hour before. Now they still werethere, watching the slow approach of the inevitable summons. 

Slowly the day waxed--and waned. For the waning life, there was nointerval of waxing. Slowly, steadily, by infinitesimal degrees, LeoFrazer was sinking down into the Valley of the Shadow. Once the headsurgeon had stepped behind the screens and bent over the bed. OnlyEthel had seen the brief contraction of his brows; but no one ofthem was deceived by his cheery words of parting. And still the blueeyes rested upon Ethel, as if seeking to gain from her the answer tosome unspoken question, as if begging her to share with him somefraction of her quiet strength. Now and then Ethel wondered at herown quiet. This was the second week of her promised month with hercousin; but it was the first time she had come face to face withdeath, the first time, too, that her work had taken on any hint ofpersonality. Now, suddenly confronted with these three, Death andthe two men who, during the past fourteen months, had played soactive parts in her life, she was surprised to find that she facedthem steadily and in silence. As yet, she felt no wish to make anymoan. That would come later, when her nerves had relaxed a littlefrom the stretching strain. And, meanwhile, as she sat watching theface on the pillow, grieving for the waning life, now and then sheraised her eyes to the other face on the opposite side of the bed, and told herself that Fate, harsh as it was, was yet not altogetherunpitying. Although wounded and worn and sick at heart, Weldon waswith her, and intensely alive. 

"Ethel!"

Bending forward, she laid her strong, firm hand upon the hand of theCaptain, noting, as she did so, that the finger tips were cold toher own warm touch. 

"Yes?" she said gently. 

"You are here? It troubles me to see. Stay with me to the end, Ethel. It won't be so very long. "

She bowed her head; but the answer came firmly. 

"I will stay. "

There was a short silence. Then, gathering together all hisstrength, the Captain went on quite steadily, --

"It won't be so very long, Ethel. I am sorry. I liked to live. Ihave had a good time, and I had no idea that my good times were sonearly over. Not that it would have made much difference, though. And yet, when one comes to the end, all of a sudden, one finds agreat many things that are left unfinished. "

She made no attempt to answer. 

Gently he urged the final words upon her attention. 

"There are always so many things left unfinished, " he repeated. 

"Yes, " she said faintly. 

Slowly, as if its weight dragged sorely upon his failing strength, he raised her hand to the pillow and rested his cheek upon it. 

"Don't cry, Ethel, " he said then. "Of course, if I had lived, itmight have meant so much to us both. "

Involuntarily she caught her breath and made a swift gesture, as ifto withdraw her hand. Then, with a hasty glance at Weldon, leaningagainst the opposite wall, she controlled herself and allowed herhand to rest where it was. 

"It would have meant so much to all of us, Captain Frazer. "

"Perhaps. But to you and me--Ethel, I can't go out of life and giveyou up!" Pitifully, longingly, the blue eyes stared up at her facethrough the growing shadows of waning day and waning life. Longingly, although the questioning look had left them. In its placewas an infinite, contented love, an absolute trust. 

The girl nerved herself to meet his eyes. Then she drew her own eyesaway, to give another hasty, appealing glance up into Weldon'spaling face. For him, as for her, the moment was all unexpected. Forhim, as for her, there was need of all the reserve strength in lifeto go through it honorably and without flinching. 

Up to that very hour, no thought of Leo Frazer's love had crossedthe mind of Ethel Dent. They had been friends, good comrades, meeting often and always with much pleasure. She had acknowledged toherself, long since, that he was a man among men; she honored him, admired him, cared for him as she might have cared for an onlybrother. Beyond that, she could not go. Moreover, it had neveroccurred to her that Captain Frazer could mistake her attitude tohimself, could differentiate her light, bright cordiality from thecordiality she showed to other men. When she had met him first, shehad been a mere girl in character and experience; love had had scantplace in her girlish dreams. Later, Weldon had come into her life. His coming had changed many things for her; but it had made nochange in her attitude to the Captain. She was now, as always, hisloyal, admiring friend, no less, no more. She had supposed that hehad felt the same loyal friendship for her. Too late, she realizedher mistake. 

"You must have known it all, Ethel, " the Captain was sayingsteadily; "how my whole life has seemed to go into yours. I havenever told you. I was sure you knew it, without any telling, and Ihave been waiting until the war was over, before asking you to gohome with me, as my wife. The--" he caught his breath sharply, "thewar is over for me now, dearest. I can't ask you to go home with me;but--Tell me, Ethel, I have not been mistaken, all these months? Youhave cared for me, as I have cared for you?" The last words came outwith the roundness of tone he had used in health; but there was aweary drag to the hand that drew her hand still nearer to his cheek. Ethel faltered. Then, soldier-like, she braced herself to fight to afinish. It was not her fault that the man had mistaken her friendly, cordial liking for something deeper, infinitely more lasting. Shehad never consciously played with him, never sought to win his love. Blame there was none; it was all only a mistake, albeit a terribleone. Nevertheless--

Desperately she glanced up from the blue eyes, still so wishfullyfixed upon her own, up to the drawn, white face of the haggard manon the farther side of the bed. In that instant, the girl foughtmadly with herself. Then her eyes dropped back to the bed once more. Eternity and time; a final short, comforting word to the one, a longexplanation to the other. The mistake, if mistake there were, hadbeen all of her doing. Bravely she would take the bitterconsequences. Captain Frazer's day was passing fast. The nightremained for her talk with Weldon. Her eyes dropped back to the bed, and her hand yielded itself to the pressure of the ice-cold fingers. 

"Yes, " she said slowly and so faintly that Weldon, standingbreathless, could scarcely hear the words; "I have cared for you, asyou have cared for me. "

The fingers tightened over her hand; but the lids drooped heavilyabove the dark blue eyes. 

"Dearest--girl. " Then, smiling to himself, Captain Leo Frazer fellasleep. The next moment counted itself out by slow seconds. ThenEthel raised her head and turned to smile drearily up at Weldon. 

Instead, she found herself smiling up at an empty wall. HarvardWeldon had vanished and had left for her no word of farewell. 

CHAPTER TWENTY

Up Commissioner Street and down Commissioner Street and around andaround Market Square tramped a haggard man in khaki who surveyed allthings with dull, unseeing eyes. On his cheek, an inch or so abovehis stubbly beard, was a wide cross of plaster, and his left wristwore a narrow bandage. He walked with quick, nervous strides; yetevery now and then he halted to rest for a moment. Then he hurriedon again, as if pursued by some unseen, but malignant foe. 

Twice he turned northward and paused before the hospital, staringirresolutely up at the lighted windows. Then, facing about abruptly, he moved on, swiftly, but with the mechanical tread of a man in adream. Once he found himself resting on the steps of the Jewishsynagogue. The next time he roused himself to take note of hissurroundings, he was at the Berea Estate, following Hospital Hillstraight to the eastward. It was then that he had turned about andfaced back to the hospital. A scant half-dozen hours before, thathospital had held what was all the world to him. Now, withoutwarning, that all had proved to be naught. 

The blow had come crashing upon him, straight between the eyes andso suddenly that there had been no time for him to brace himself tomeet it. From the moment of his facing Ethel in the doorway of thehospital, that noon, he had been sure that the talk which he wouldhave with her, that evening, could bring but the one ending. Atsight of the soiled and haggard man before her, her blue eyes hadlighted with something far more than pleased surprise. His appearinghad been quite unexpected; her meeting with him had been the nakedimpulse of her girlish heart. And, all that endless day, her grieffor the Captain had in no way hidden her evident pleasure in his ownpresence. And then, all at once, had come the end, unexpected andhence doubly crushing. His young, newborn happiness was as littlestrong to bear the blow as were his exhausted body and his shatterednerve. Like a wild beast wounded to the death, he had crept silentlyaway, to go through his agony, unseen. 

Standing under the fierce glare of the electric light by thehospital gate, his appearance would wellnigh have baffled therecognition of his mother. Soiled and stained and tattered, his headsunk between his shoulders, he looked a feeble man of middle years. Dark shadows lay around his heavy gray eyes, and the corners of hismouth drooped pitifully. And, somewhere inside that building, wasthe girl who had snatched away from him what was dearer than lifeitself. For six long months she had been the incentive to all of hisbest work; it had been her influence which finally had led him tocome back into the firing line; it had been in the hope for thefuture, a hope growing less and less vague as the months passed by, that he had been willing and glad to prolong his stay through onemore torrid African summer. And to what end?

Strange to say, it never once occurred to him to try to win her lovenow, after all that bad passed. Still less did it occur to him todoubt the truth of her final words to the Captain. Weldon had missedthe look of appealing anguish in the blue eyes which she had liftedto his; but he had heard the low, steady voice, had seen thepressure of the living fingers answer to the slight movement of thehand already growing cold. He had heard, and seen. It was enough. Always he had believed implicitly in Ethel's truth. There was noreason he should distrust her now. It was only that he had been anegregious ass to think that he could win her love, in the face of aman like Captain Leo Frazer. With a mighty effort, he straightenedhis shoulders, faced the wing where he knew the Captain would now belying and reverently removed his hat. Then, for one last time, hiseyes swept over the building and, turning away, he crawled offtowards the railway station. 

And, meanwhile, alone in a room behind one of those brightly-lightedwindows, a girl sat huddled together, her crossed arms on her kneesand her face buried in her arms, while she wailed to herself overand over again, --

"He might have waited! He might have waited! My God in heaven, whathave I done? But at least he might have waited!"

A commissariat train was leaving Johannesburg at two o'clock thenext morning. His pass in his hand, Weldon clambered drearily on thetrain for the long ride back to Kroonstad. Motion of any kind wasbetter than remaining longer in Johannesburg. Nevertheless, thejolting of the train was wellnigh unbearable. His shoulder throbbed, and the dull pain in his head was maddening. He had passed the stageof weariness, however, where one is conscious of exhaustion. Anever-tightening strain was upon him. He could not rest now; he mustgo on, and on, and on, faster and ever faster, until at lastsomething should snap and quiet perforce should overtake him. 

Early dawn found him at Kroonstad. Sleep had been impossible forhim; he had no appetite for food, and it took an ever-increasingeffort for him to pull himself together. Like a man mounting asteep, pathless hill, he tried to drag himself up above theconsciousness of his aching head and throbbing wounds; but it wasnot to be done. At the station he halted irresolutely. Then of asudden he faced towards the great hospital tent. 

"I want something to steady me a bit, " he said briefly to the firstdoctor he met there. "I have two or three scratches, and I amfeeling fagged. Give me something to help me get a grip on myselfagain, for I can't spend time to be ill. "

The doctor remonstrated; but Weldon's answer was peremptory. 

"I tell you, I can't stop. Give me something and let me go. I'vework at Lindley that must be done, and a convoy leaves in an hour. "

An hour later he was trudging over the veldt in the direction ofLindley. Lindley was forty miles away; the roads were dusty, and thesun of early February struck down upon him with the heat of abelated summer. Nevertheless, at Lindley was his squadron, and withhis squadron would be work. Never in all his past life had Weldonknown this imperative need for work. In it now, and in itsaccompanying excitement and in its inevitable risk, would lie hisultimate salvation. For him, the future held but one plain duty, andthat duty was to forget. 

The experienced eye of the doctor had told him that the gaunttrooper was a sick man; it had also told him that the trooper'sdetermination would outweigh his sickness, at least for the presentcrisis. He made no effort to penetrate the cause of thatdetermination. He merely yielded to it. A doctor less wise wouldhave ordered Weldon into bed. This one saw further. He knew that adelicately adjusted machine often receives its worst damage from thefriction needed to stop the whirring wheels. Better to wait and letthem run down, untouched. 

The forty miles from Kroonstad to Lindley were reducing themselvesfrom a geographical fact to a matter of physical and mental anguish. There had been no rain for days, and under the burning sun, thedusty veldt seemed dancing up and down before Weldon's tired, feverish eyes. Now he passed through a stretch of bare andburned-out sand; now he tramped over patches of tall dry grass; now heplodded wearily around a heap of smooth black stones. Brick-redant-hills higher than his knees dotted themselves over the veldt, theirshell-like surface shielding a crowded insect colony within. Ant-bear holes lurked unseen in his pathway, tripping his heedlesssteps; and an occasional partridge went whirring upward, making himstart aside in causeless terror at the unwonted sound. And over itall rested the glaring, shimmering, blinding light, laden withmyriad particles of dazzling red-brown dust. Later still, thered-brown color vanished, and he walked for weary leagues over thefire-blackened veldt where the black rocks offered no contrast to theeye, and where the air was heavy with ashes caught up and scatteredby the light breeze which heralded the coming night. And it was allso lonely, so hostile, so limitless. But no more lonely and hostileand limitless than the desolate future which stretched away and awaybefore his gaze. 

As yet he dared not trust his mind to rest too much upon the past. The future demanded his whole attention. It was a far cry for himfrom the present up to his limit of threescore years and ten. Still, he would not funk it now. That was the part of a sneak. Now, asalways, he would stand by his young resolution to play out the game, to abide by the rules and to take the consequences. Nevertheless, itwould be weary work to play out the game to its end, when the endheld nothing for him in its keeping. His mind trailed off upon allsorts or vague corollaries scarcely connected with the fact. Herecalled it with a jerk. 

The Captain was dead. Ethel had loved the Captain. She had told theCaptain of her love. As consequence, she could not love himself, Harvard Weldon. But he loved her. He had loved her for thirteenmonths and twenty-one days. Carefully he reckoned up the time; then, to make sure, he counted it off upon his fingers. Yes, he had lovedher ever since that first lunch on the steamer, when she had snubbedhim so roundly. He did not know it then. Looking backward, he knewit now. And there had been Cape Town, and Johannesburg, and CapeTown again. He stumbled into the open mouth of an ant-bear's holeand came down with a crash, full upon his wounded shoulder. Strangethat his step should be so uncertain! Strange that he should feel solittle inclination to swear! As he picked himself up, he wonderedvaguely whether his pipe would be refreshing; but his wonderstopped, impotent to lead his dangling hand in the direction of hispocket. Then his mind took up its interrupted story, its record ofbrief, categorical facts. 

He had meant to go home, that winter. Instead, Ethel had fanned theflame of his desire to go back to the front. He had left her, oneevening, to pass a sleepless night, and, the next morning, to takehimself out to enlist for another six months of service. The sixmonths were nearly ended. Only three weeks remained. And then?Nothing. 

The second night found him still far from Lindley. He had plodded onmechanically, stumbling often, but halting never, while his mindwent whirling on and on, over and over the same old questions. Hislips were feverish, and his eyes burned hotly, so it was almost witha sense of relief that he greeted the swift chill which followed thedropping of the sun. Over his head, the great arch of the sky shadedfrom east to west through every tint of purple and blue andturquoise and emerald-green, down to the golden band of theafterglow. Then the stars began to dot the purple, their tiny pointsof light serving only to emphasize its darkness, until the full moonswept up across the heavens, throwing its mystic silver light overall the land and adding tenfold to the empty loneliness of theveldt. Sleep was out of the question. He could only snuggle moreclosely into his blankets and wait for morning with what grace hecould. The stopping of his physical action only increased theswiftness of his swirling thoughts which chased each other round andround in circling eddies about one fixed point. That point wasEthel. 

Across the veldt at his left hand, he had watched the chain ofblockhouses which lay along the country between Kroonstad andLindley. Their squat outlines and the shining blue of theircorrugated iron roofs had caught his wandering attention, held it, pinned it to other associations with those same blockhouses and, ofa sudden, had brought him to a full realization that griefs did notcome singly. He had left Johannesburg, to face a future apart fromEthel. He was coming back to Lindley, to face a future bereft of theCaptain. 

It was full noon, the next day, when the camp came into view. Leaving the convoy to follow in his wake, he headed straight for therise where he had so often sat with Carew and gossiped of all thingsunder the light of the sun. Then, as the round tents lay under hiseyes like rows of dots punched into relief above the surface of theplain, he sank down on the coarse, parched grass and hid his eyes inhis shaking hands. Yet even then the pitiless circle of tragicthoughts refused to stop their ceaseless round. 

He roused himself at a touch on his arm. Kruger Bobs, at a distance, was eying him with a look of chastened welcome; but Carew stoodbeside him, one thin, sun-tanned hand on Weldon's shoulder. 

"It's all right, old man, " he was saying. "Don't try to tell meanything about it. Kruger Bobs saw you coming, and we rode out tomeet you. Come in and rest. You look utterly done up. "

Half way back to the camp, Carew spoke again; but it was only once. 

"I told the fellows you were coming, and that you would be tired. They will keep out of your way, till you have had time to rest up abit. Paddy is waiting to look out for you; but you needn't worry. Heknows when to hold his tongue. If you need anything, or if you careto talk, send him out to look for me. Meanwhile, you need somerest. "

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"For God's sake, Weldon, how long is this going to last?"

Weldon raised his eyes from the seven-weeks-old Times in his hand, and looked at Carew in surprise. 

"What last?" he questioned blankly. 

Carew sprang to his feet and began to pace up and down withimpatient, nervous steps. 

"This. Everything, " he said. 

Weldon's smile, though it went no deeper than his lips, was halfsarcastic, wholly sad. 

"Specify, " he advised languidly. "My mind can't grasp yourgeneralities. "

Carew took a few more turns. Then he came back to Weldon's side. 

"It's this way, Harvey, " he said slowly, for the moment lapsing intothe name by which he had called his friend in their childhood;"since you came back from Johannesburg, you've not been the sameman. What has done it?"

Weldon's lips shut with a tightness which curled the cornersdownward. Then, as he looked into the questioning eyes and anxiousface of his companion, his own eyes softened, and he changed hismind in regard to keeping silence. 

"It was a hard journey, " he said evasively, yet with a kindly accentto the words. "Such days take it out of a man, Carew. I shall braceup in time. "

Carew shook his head. 

"That is just what you must not do. You have braced too long, as itis. Your wounds were nothing but scratches. They healed up easilyenough, and you say, yourself, that they don't trouble you; but youlook--"

"Well?" "As if things had ended for you, " Carew blurted outdesperately. 

Slowly, wearily, Weldon lifted his eyes to his friend's face. 

"Well, they have, " he said, with an intonation of dreary finality. 

"Rot!" Carew observed profanely. "Look here, Weldon, you've nobusiness to funk in this fashion. It's not like you, either. "

The word stung Weldon. He scrambled to his feet and stood toattention. 

"Carew, no other man could say that to me, " he said slowly. 

Carew maintained his ground. 

"No other man cares for you as I do, Harvey. We've been likebrothers, and I have been too proud of your record to be willing tosit by, quiet, and see you spoil the last round of the game. Thereis too much at stake. " Weldon raised his brows. 

"What is at stake?" he asked coldly. 

"Your whole army record. Your manhood. Your--" Carew hesitated; thenhe nerved himself to speak out plainly; "your love for Miss Dent. "

Weldon shut his teeth and drew in his breath between them, while thedark red blood rushed across his face, and then died away, to leavein its place a grayish pallor. He put out his hand, as if to wardoff something. 

"For God's sake, don't!" he said huskily. 

Carew watched him for an instant. Then he stepped forward and linkedhis arm through that of Weldon. 

"There's nothing doing now, " he said quietly. "Let's go for a walk. We can talk better, while we're moving, you know. "

"But what is the use of talking?" Weldon objected listlessly. 

Carew looked into the heavy eyes, the overcast face of his friend. Not once during the past three weeks since Weldon's return fromJohannesburg had the cloud lifted. 

"You must talk, Weldon, " he said firmly. "If you don't talk, you'llgo mad. I've watched you, day after day, hoping you would speak ofyour own free will. I have hated to urge you. It seemed ratherbeastly to drive you into telling me things that are none of mybusiness. But they are my business, in a sense. There's nobody inall South Africa who can go back farther with you into the past. That alone ought to count for something. "

Handsome still, in spite of his dark sunburn and his time-stainedkhaki, Carew's face was wonderfully attractive, as it looked intothat of his friend. Weldon felt the attraction, even while he waswondering why it was so powerless to move him. He liked Carew; sincethe death of the Captain, no other man was linked more closely withhis life. Nevertheless, Carew's words left him cold. All things didleave him cold of late. It was as if, in the fierce conflagration ofthat one hour in the Johannesburg hospital, the fires of his naturehad burned themselves out beyond the possibility of being rekindled. His intellect told him that Carew was in the right of it, that hisalternatives were speech or madness; but he faced the alternativeswith an absolute indifference. His intellect also told him that, forthe past three weeks, Carew's kindness had been unremitting; thathis care had served as a buffer between himself and the clumsytactlessness of their mates; that his sympathy now was leading himto try to storm the barrier of his own reserve; but he met Carew'sadvances with an icy front which could be thawed neither fromoutside nor from within. It was not his will to be ungrateful; itwas beyond his present power to show the gratitude which he reallyfelt. And Carew, with the supreme insight which marks the friendshipof men at times, interpreted Weldon's mood aright and forebode totake offence. 

Nevertheless, watching his friend closely, Carew had judged the caseto be serious. He had felt no surprise at the state of collapse inwhich Weldon had struggled back into camp. The battle, the half-dressedwounds, the nerve-racking journey, the watching the slowapproach of death and the accepting the fact of the loss of a valuedfriend: all these were enough to wreck the vitality of a man. Withan almost womanish tenderness, Carew had brought his friend back tothe tent, and made him over to the care of Paddy who gave up allthings else, for the sake of his little Canuck. All that afternoonand night, Weldon lay passive, inert, while Paddy bathed him, fedhim, poured cool, soft things over his wounds, fed him again, andthen sat down beside him with his own stubby hand resting againstWeldon's limp fingers. But, the next morning, Weldon rose, buttonedand belted himself with elaborate care. Then, disregarding theimplorings of Carew and Paddy, who were terrified at the steady, unseeing look in his gray eyes and at the tense lines about hislips, he went to his captain and demanded his old position ofregimental rough rider. 

He obtained it. In fact, it was given, not only freely, but withjoy. In all the regiment, no one else had been able to subdue suchwild mounts as Weldon. In former days, he had stopped at little. Nowhe stopped at nothing. Horse-sickness, the scourge of South Africa, was in the land; and the underfed, overworked mounts yielded to itwith pitiful ease. And, meanwhile, the need for horses was greaterthan ever. Drive after drive through the country about Kroonstad wasbringing in the hostile Boers; but it was also bringing down thehorses. The call for new mounts was limitless; limitless, too, thehours and the strength and the skill which Trooper Weldon put forthto the supplying that call. He was utterly untiring; but he wasutterly reckless as well. Checked by no risk, sobered by no danger, he rushed into risk and danger as rushes the man whose one wish isto escape from a future of which he is in mortal, agonizing dread. 

Carew said little; he watched much, and he meditated more. At first, he hoped all things from the healthy, outdoor life. He watchedWeldon's muscles harden, saw his appetite return and welcomed withhappy anticipations all the signs of his returning rugged strength. Then, as the time passed by, his anxiety came back upon him in fullmeasure. Long days in the saddle were followed by sleepless nights;the shadow never came out of Weldon's eyes, the alertness never cameback into his step. Lean, gaunt as a greyhound, he went about hiswork with a silent, dogged endurance which took no note of the otherlife about him. For Trooper Weldon, his profession had dropped to adull, plodding routine of danger lapping close upon the heels ofdanger. And still he spoke no word of the sorrow which had broughthim to this end. 

And Carew, meanwhile, could not fail to note the increasing anxietywith which Alice Mellen wrote of her cousin. From Alice's letters, it appeared that Ethel, totally unnerved by the death of CaptainFrazer, had begged so piteously to be released from her hospitalwork that she had finally been sent home to Cape Town. She hadseemed to be far from well, when she had left Johannesburg;nevertheless, she had no sooner reached home than she had plungedinto the midst of the whirlpool of social life where she was said tobe the gayest of the gay. 

Cape Town, that fall, was facing the end of the war and theconsequent departure of the swarm of young Englishmen who had madetheir headquarters there during the past two years. Accordingly, itresolved to make the most of the short time remaining to it; and theearly weeks of the year saw the little city neglecting all otherthings for the sake of making merry with her fast-vanishing heroes. And, in all the round of merry-making, Ethel Dent was in evidence, bright and flashing as the diamonds that blazed on her shoulder, andas soft. Her wit was ceaseless, her energy untiring. Always themiddle of a group, she yet always held herself within range of herfather's protection. He watched her proudly; yet his pride wassometimes mingled with alarm, as he saw the waxy whiteness of herears and the dark shadows which lay beneath her eyes. It was plainto him that all was not well with the girl; yet he was wholly at aloss as to the cause of the trouble. 

Strange to say, he never once thought of Weldon; neither did hismind linger long upon the Captain. True, Ethel and Captain Frazerhad been good friends; but so had Ethel been good friends with manyanother man. The secret of that last hour of the Captain's life wasburied in two hearts. Weldon could not speak of it; Ethel would not. And so, in the eyes of her friends, Ethel's experience had beensorrowful, but scarcely touched with tragedy. The heroic passing ofa casual friend is no cause for a lasting change in the nature of ahappy-tempered girl. 

However, Alice had noted the change and, quite unable to account forit, she had commented upon it to Carew. Her letter, coming that samemorning, had quickened his slow-forming resolution to speak. Takenquite by itself, her account of Ethel would have made scantimpression upon him. Taken in connection with what he had seen ofWeldon, it forced him to draw certain conclusions which, thoughwrong in detail, were comparatively accurate in their main outlines. 

He and Weldon came back from their walk, wrapped in the silence ofperfect understanding. Carew had asked few questions; Weldon hadmade even fewer replies, and those replies had been brief. Ethel'sname had scarcely been mentioned between them. Their talk had mainlyconcerned itself with Captain Frazer, his life, his passing, thevoid he had left behind him. Only one sentence had related to thescene in the hospital; but its brief, tragic summing up of thesituation had been sufficient. Carew had made no answer, save towalk on for a few steps in silence, with his hand resting on theshoulder of his friend. 

That night, he wrote to Alice. The letter was long and full ofdetail. It told what he knew, what he had inferred and what hefeared. It begged her, in the name of their own sacred happiness, tohelp him win the same happiness for these two who, longing to cometogether, were straying always farther apart; and it ended with thewords with which he had begun his talk with Weldon, that noon, --

"For God's sake, how long is this going to last?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Paddy waved his thumb disrespectfully towards the rear of thecolumn. 

"And what can you expect of a man that goes to the wars in a fancypetticoat, let alone a khaki apron to cover up the front of it?" hedemanded. "And look at the bare knees of 'em, for all the world likeknots in the branches of an oak-tree! They may be trained to believeit's comfortable to walk round in public with their kneepans inplain sight; but no man can ever make me think it's either beautifulto the eye, or respectful in the presence of one's betters. "

"But their officers wear the same uniform, Paddy, " Weldon objected. "Who are their betters?"

"Myself, little Canuck, and yourself, too, " Paddy answered calmly. "The maple and the shamrock, severally and together, can knock thespots out of all the thistles that's growing. "

"Until it comes to a fight, " Carew suggested, from Paddy's otherside. "The Highlanders have made their record, this time. "

But Paddy shook his head. "Wait then till the end of the chapter, "he predicted. "My turn hasn't come yet. Belike I'll be the hero ofthem all. I was minding my pots and my kettles, while the BlackWatch was slinging lead up on the road into Kimberley. But, faith, if I was one of them, with the choice before me between a gloriousdeath and the having to live in the sound of the bagpipes, I'd mounta Red Cross and take a white flag in my hand and sally forth to beseen and shot by the Boers. "

"You don't like the bagpipes, Paddy?"

Paddy's reply was sententious. 

"Did you ever hear a pig soliloquizing to himself, just as hecrossed the tracks between the wheels of an express train? Wellthen!"

"Meanwhile, " Carew observed thoughtfully; "I wonder why we are outon this trek. "

"To escort the little Canuck with his mounts, and to study thesurface of the land, to be sure. "

Carew's eye swept the barren, desolate expanse about them. 

"It is a bit monotonous, though. "

"It's monotony that's healthy. You can't make a whole dinner offfrom red pepper, and you can't make a whole campaign off fromsmokeless powder. In either case, you get too much heated up, forthe show it all makes. Strike hard and eat hot at long intervals andwith exceeding unction; and, meanwhile, pause and let it soak in. It's not the hottest fire that gives off the most blazes. And whereis that nigger of a Kruger Bobs?"

"In among the wagons with The Nig. " "Just for all the world like thedeuce of spades! The Black Watch would better adopt the two of 'emfor their colors. The Nig is a pretty bit of property; but this isthe brute for me. " And Paddy bent over in the saddle to stroke theneck of Piggie who snapped back at him testily. 

However, in all truth, the little gray broncho deserved all ofPaddy's praise. Scarred from muzzle to pastern by errant bullets, limping slightly on one fore leg, she still had borne her masterbravely over weary miles of veldt, into many a skirmish and throughthe kicking, squealing throngs of her kindred which crowded theLindley kraal. Long since, Weldon had discovered that thethoroughbred Nig was an ornament; but that Piggie was a necessity. Again and yet again, her flying feet and gritty temper had broughthim, unscathed, through perilous plights. She read his mind as byinstinct; left unguided, she guided herself with exceedingdiscretion; and, upon more than one occasion, she had endured thenervous strain of feeling a human body dangling limply above thesaddle bow, held in place by main strength of her master who, crouching forward beneath the heavy fire, could only indicate theway of safety by the pressure of this heel and then that against herheaving flanks. Surely, if ever honors could be given to a faithful, plucky little broncho, Piggie should have been gazetted for theDistinguished Service Order. Not to the men alone is due all thehonor of victory. 

But now Piggie, fresh from a prolonged interval of resting in thecare of Kruger Bobs, felt that she was out on an excursion of purepleasure. Behind her trailed a long column of men and mounts andwagons; around her was a knot of horses whom she knew well; andbefore her stretched away the dry and level veldt, broken at thesky-line by a range of hills that rose sharply in a jagged linewhich culminated in one peak lifted far above all the others. 

In the very front of the column rode a score or more of the SouthAfrican Light Horse, with Weldon, for the moment, in command. Theman was showing, just then, something of the temper of his mount. Itwould have been good to leave behind him the slow-moving column andgo dashing away alone, far across the level plain. A spirit ofrestlessness was upon him; Paddy's utterances grew vague in hisears, and he cast longing glances towards the range of hills to thesouthward, as if eager to explore them and find what secrets, ifany, lay within their keeping. Then he reined in his broncho andforced his mind back to Paddy's conversation, still upon the deedsof the kilted heroes of the Black Watch. 

"And they do say, " he was observing; "that Wauchope was light in hismind--fey, them piping, petticoated Scotchmen calls it--the nightbefore his death. Now that's something that's beyond my thinking. Nodead man ever knows he's going to die. Witness the last words ofmost of 'em! They make up their death-bed speeches, and then theyturn thrifty and save up the speeches till next time. Little Canuckdear, what would you say, if you was hit?"

Weldon laughed shortly. 

"I should probably say 'Thank God, '" he answered. 

Paddy crossed himself. 

"And might heaven forgive you then, little one!" he said gravely. "The Lord and the Holy Virgin may send the bullets to kill you, unless it's from the Boers who is guided by the Father of Lies; butit's small thanks in return they will be asking. Take the benefitsof Providence with a shout of thanksgiving; but swallow hard andkeep a stiff upper lip, when it smacks you over the head with ashillalegh. " Then, of a sudden, he bent over in the saddle once moreand rested his hand on Weldon's fingers which lay on the broncho'sneck. "And, if I mistake not, little one, it is what you have beendoing, these late days, so forgive me teaching you a lesson you'vealready learned by heart. "

Two nights before this, Carew's letter to Alice had ended with theoutcry, --

"For God's sake, how long is this going to last?"

And now the end was almost in sight. Early the next day, there hadcome a call for remounts for a column halted on the veldt nearReitz, and Weldon, with a score of others from his squadron, hadbeen sent out with the mounts to join the column for the trek to thesouthward. As a matter of course, Weldon had asked that the scoremight include Paddy and Carew; and now, with them at his side, hewas at the head of the column which trailed away far towards thesouthward, twelve hundred poorly mounted men riding in leisurelyfashion towards Harrismith and the chance of rounding up anoccasional Boer. 

Dusk of the second day had brought the hills on the sky-line closeto their eyes, and had sharpened the ragged peaks into threateningcrests of bare, black rock. Already the hills were but three milesdistant, and the hour for halt almost at hand, when scouts cameflying back to the column, breathless with haste and with theconsciousness of tidings to impart. The colonel received the tidingswith outward calm. 

"A laager of fifteen hundred Boers? And a mile and a half to thesouth of us? We must attack. " His eyes swept the faces of his men. "Trooper Weldon?"

At the word, Weldon rode forward and saluted. 

"That highest hill is the key to the position. It is the one we musthold. Can you and your men ride around to the west of the laager, get that hill and hold it at all costs until I can sendreinforcements to you? The reinforcements will start as soon as youreach the top of the hill. Keep out of sight, while you can. Thenrush it. You understand?"

Weldon nodded; then, his head erect, his eyes flashing, he salutedfor a second time and, with his men at his heels, dashed off intothe thickening dusk. 

Like foothills beside a mountain range, so the veldt before him wasalready broken and crumpled into a series of irregular ridges, opening in their midst to form a tiny plain where the Boer laagerlay spread out before them. The dusk of the plain was dotted withscattered camp fires; but, beyond the ridges, it lay heavy, and inthat heaviness Weldon placed his trust. For two thirds of his wholedistance, he could keep below a ridge to the westward of the laager. The final third lay full in view of the enemy, full up theincreasing steepness of the mountain side, where, horses failing, itwould be necessary to creep by stealth and upon the hands and knees. And, where the shelter ended, there lay before them a short defilebetween walls of naked rock, and the defile was narrow. 

Half the way to the defile was already accomplished when Weldonheard, from the crest of the ridge above him, the double crack of aMauser rifle, and then the sound of scurrying, unshod feet. He shuthis teeth, and his chin rose a bit higher. "A picket! And now thebrute has run in to tell tales, " he said shortly. "Quick, men, it'sa race between us now. "

Answering to the touch of the spur, the gray broncho went leapingforward, with Paddy's horse neck and neck at her side. From beyondthe ridge, the trio of guns could be heard, barking ceaselessly, while their shells dropped thick into the laager, scarcely eighthundred yards away. And now the defile, short, but narrow, was closeat hand. 

Ka-paw! Ka-paw!

From the mouth of the tiny pass, a rain of bullets swept down uponthem. A horse dropped, shot through the knee; another, hit in theneck, bolted, threw its wounded rider and then, mad with pain, hurled itself straight into the ranks of the enemy. A second shot, almost at arm's length, threw it to the earth; but not until it haddone its work. The half-broken Boer ponies, fat from much feedingand totally unaccustomed to this species of missile, swerved at itsapproach and destroyed the aim of the second volley, which wasanswered by a fire that sent a full quarter of the twoscore Boerssprawling heavily groundward. 

A scant ten minutes sufficed for the rest. Five troopers layhelpless on the dusty soil. Five dead Boers blocked the trail at theentrance of the narrow pass. It was a drawn game; but the end wasnot yet. From beyond the ridge, Weldon could hear the guns stillpounding ceaselessly. He knew that, half a mile in the rear, hiscolonel was watching for him to come to the crest of the hill; that, in a sense, the whole game was waiting upon his moves. Whirlinghimself about, he gave a short, sharp order. Scarcely a momentlater, he was astonished to see the Boers in the pass giving waybefore the mad rush of his paltry fifteen men. The narrow pass washis own. 

Beyond the pass were more ridges, some parallel with his course, some crossing it. Far to the eastward, he could see a moving spot, black even in the increasing darkness of the night. Leaving Piggieto pick her own way along the rocky ridge, he rose in his stirrups, shaded his eyes with his hands and peered anxiously towards thespot. At last his straining eyes could make out eight Boer horsemen, riding furiously towards the peak which he was in honor bound tohold. And their course was the chord of the arc of his own circle. He dropped back to the saddle where he bent low, yielding his wholebody to the flying body of his horse. 

The crest was sharp. To the east, its approach was more easy; but onthe west it offered a wall of blank, black rock. The fat Boer ponieswere still at some distance from the eastern slope, when Weldonflung himself from his panting broncho. Carew protested, as theytold off by fours and he was left, the third man, with Paddy'smount, the gray broncho and a huge brown Argentine horse on hishands. 

"Sorry, old man!" Weldon said briefly. "It's luck, and dead againstyou. Still, it may save Miss Mellen a bad half-hour. Look out forPiggie. She deserves it. " And, turning, he led the way up the wallof rock, with thirteen men, breathless, grim and eager, scramblingat his heels. 

For moments, it seemed to him that Fate was idly tossing the dice toand fro, before allowing herself to make the final, decisive cast. From the farther side of the hill, he heard a sudden terrified snortfrom one of the Boer ponies, then the thud of feet, as they chargedup the approaches of the long slope. From behind him, there arose agroan, as one of the men, missing his foothold in the deepeningdusk, crashed back against the loose rocks at the bottom of thehill. Then a shot and a whinnying moan told him that Carew and histhree comrades had edged around the base of the hill into range ofthe enemy above them. The man might be wounded, too, as well as themount. Seven Boers, and they were thirteen in all. The cast was allfor--

A dash of light! A rattle of firing! Three of his men droppedbackwards. The other ten looked up to face a second flash from thesummit. Only eight heard the answering echoes which came rollingback to them from the encircling hills. Then Paddy's voice came inhis ears, low, but as unconcerned as ever. 

"Remember the fellow who was rejected on account of his teeth, little Canuck? 'Faith, ' he said; 'it's shooting the damned Boers Iwant to be, not eating them. ' But, by the holy Virgin Mary, inanother ten minutes we'll be shaking 'em between our teeth. "

The next flash but one showed only five men on the steep rocky wall;but those five men were close to the summit. Once on the top, theirrifles could come into play. It was maddening to be picked off, likestuffed crows resting on a tree branch; maddening to listen to thelow sounds from beneath which told them that some one of theircomrades was facing the end of his fight. Then, just as they reachedthe summit, one of their five dropped, with a bullet shattering thebone of his ankle. 

"Go on, boys! You'll get there, " he said, as the next in line dashedpast him. "The hill is Weldon's. Mind you hold it for him. The devilis in him, and he's bound to win. "

On top of the hill, six Boers were huddled in the scant shelter of afew low, scattered rocks tufted with a bunch of brush whose bleachedstalks marked the darkness with a pale line of range for their fire. The next volley went astray. It was answered by the crack of Paddy'srifle. Paddy's chuckle followed close on the crack. "I rolled himover like a sausage in the hot fat, " he commented, as he took asecond aim. "Here goes for another, and may his bed in heaven have avalance to hide his sins!" A second Boer vanished behind the rocks. 

Four Boers in shelter, four Britons in the open; and, on the plainbeneath, twenty-seven hundred men were waiting to see the outcome ofthe game. 

The tension of the eight men increased. It rendered their aimunsteady. Under its influence, seven men fell to wasting theirammunition. The eighth was Paddy. Firing rarely, his rare bulletstold. Now a finger was shattered, now an ear was grazed. 

"I'm not doing much killing; but, faith, I'm warming 'em up a bit, "he said, as he halted to cool his rifle. "It's keeping the balla-rolling, and them busy. Else, belike they'd find Satan filling theidle hands of them with bad deeds. Little Canuck dear, this is hotwork for a boy. "

Weldon nodded. His hat had been lost in the scramble up the hill, his putties were dragged into heaps of khaki about his knees, theshoulder of his coat was torn by a passing bullet and a scarlettrickle lined his cheek; but his face was alert and eager, his lipsparted in a half-smile which brought back to Paddy's mind a dimpicture of the boyish trooper he had known and loved at PiquetbergRoad. Then another man in khaki dropped at their feet. The lines ofWeldon's mouth straightened. 

"No go, " he said briefly. "We must charge. It's our only chance. "

Paddy took one last, hasty shot. Then, gripping his rifle, he turnedto Weldon. 

"True, little Canuck, " he answered loyally. "Go on, and be surePaddy will follow you to the other edge of the grave!"

He spoke truthfully. The reinforcements came rushing up the easternslope of the hill, to find their pathway encumbered with bearded menin frock-coats and bandoliers. On top of the crest, surrounded bythe wounded and the dying, sat a single man in khaki, the light ofvictory in his gleaming eyes, and Paddy's lifeless body clasped inhis weary arms. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"Yes, " Carew said meditatively; "I wish there had been glory enoughto go around. As long as there wasn't, though, I am glad it wasfated to fall to your share. "

Weldon hurled a little black stone at a great black rock. 

"Not so much glory, after all. "

Carew raised his eyes and apostrophized the dark gray clouds rushingacross the paler gray arch of the sky. 

"Just listen to the man! What can he be wanting? 'Not so muchglory!' And he recommended for a V. C. !"

Weldon shook his head. 

"What does it profit a man, " he paraphrased; "if he gain the V. C. And lose one of his best friends? Besides, I didn't gain it; it wasfated. Paddy was as brave as I, and so were half a dozen more ofthem. It was only chance that brought me through the bullets. "

"Poor Paddy!" Carew's tone was full of thoughtful regret. 

"Not poor at all. He had the end we all are wishing for. He diedwith his boots on, and fighting pluckily for a forlorn hope. Wecan't mourn a man that we envy. "

Half way to the distant sky-line, the horses of the squadron weregrazing peacefully over the stubbly grass. The corporal and thethird of the troopers appointed to guard them were far away towardsthe crest of a ridge to the westward, and Carew and Weldon werealone. Carew sat silent for a moment, his eyes on the scatteredgroups of horses. Then he turned and looked directly at his friend. 

"Perhaps, " he assented. "I was sorry to be out of the scrimmage. Ittook all my grit to obey you, old man; but it was an order. Now itis over--"

"Well?" Weldon prompted him. 

"Now it is over, I am less sorry than I was. The fact is, the futureholds a good deal for us. "

"For you, perhaps. "

"For you, too. The whole future of a man doesn't go to wreck in anhour. There are other crises later on, and some of them are bound tocome out well. Save yourself for those, Weldon. There is no especialuse in throwing yourself away. "

"I'm not. But, when the order comes, I must obey it, " Weldon saidgloomily. 

"It depends something on the order; but it depends a good sight moreon the way you obey it. When a man comes into collision with abulldog, it's generally wise to grapple with him back of his teeth;else, you may lose a thumb or two. It's the same way with yourorders here. Because you don't funk, there is no reason you shouldflirt with an early death. "

"But I don't. "

"What about now?"

"What do you mean?"

"That you ought to be in hospital. "

Weldon threw back his head and laughed, but mirthlessly. 

"Why, then?"

Without speaking, Carew took out his pipe, filled it and beganfumbling in his pocket. 

"Have you a match?" he asked. 

Weldon nodded, produced the match, lighted it and held it to theextended pipe. Carew's eyes, drooped to the bowl, watched the bit offlame. 

"Do you call that a steady hand?" he asked then. "Man, you're ill, Itell you. Your face is hot and your hands are cold, and your nervesare worn to shoestrings, frayed shoestrings at that. If you keep on, you'll be down flatter than you like. You ought to have stopped fourweeks ago. "

Weldon crossed his arms at the nape of his neck and lay back at hisease on the ground. 

"Then what would have become of my V. C. ?" he queried, with languidindifference. 

"But I thought you claimed not to care for your V. C. "

"I don't. My friends may, however. " "As a legacy? I think yourfriends may possibly choose you to the V. C. "

"Foolish of them, " Weldon commented. "Still, 'If we could choose thetime, and choose aright, 'T were best to die, our honor at theheight. ' I learned that when I was a small boy; but I've only justfound out what it means. "

With scoffing lips, but eyes full of unspoken love, Carew turned onhis friend. 

"Don't dodder, Weldon, " he counselled him. "That's canting drivvle, made to console the unsuccessful. No man knows when he has reachedhis high-water mark. Yours may have come on the day you lickedStevie Ballard for gilding the tailless cat; it may not come tillyou are ninety. "

"No. " The syllable was quiet, deliberate. Then Weldon roused himselfand sat up to speak with sudden energy. "Promise me this, Carew, that while the matter is hanging fire, you won't mention this V. C. Business to any one. "

Carew stared at him in unmixed surprise. 

"What's the matter now?" he asked blankly. 

"Nothing, only that I want you to promise. "

"Not to--"

"Not to a living soul. "

"Why? What's the use?"

"No use, but my wish. If it comes off, let it be as a joyoussurprise. If it misses fire, as it quite well may, then there'll beno harm done. In either case, it is best to keep still. My ownnotion is that I'll not get it. As a rule, one doesn't get the V. C. For shinning up the side of a hill, no matter how steep it is. "

Carew made no attempt to discuss the chances. Instead, he merelyasked, --

"Mayn't I tell Miss Mellen?"

Weldon shook his head. It was exactly to prevent the inevitableconsequences of Alice Mellen's knowing the story that he was seekingto extort the promise from Carew. To protect his motive, however, hetook a sudden resolution. 

"I shall not even tell my mother, " he answered, with slow emphasis. 

Carew raised his brows. 

"Then I suppose that ties my tongue. I am sorry. What's the use ofbeing so confoundedly modest, Weldon?"

"Do you promise?"

"I suppose I must. "

"On your honor?"

"On my honor. "

Weldon stretched himself out at full length once more. 

"So be it. Give me a light. You took my last match, " he said asunconcernedly as if they had merely been talking of the weather. 

Indeed, the weather might well have been the subject of their talk. The earth was baked until it cracked beneath the parching sun andwind. There had been no rain for weeks; but, to-day, the raw windsent the lead-colored clouds flying over the sky, and thelead-colored clouds were heavy with rain. All the morning and tillmid-afternoon, the column had been camping not far away, while theirweary, hungry mounts had been turned out on the veldt to graze. Formen and mounts, the halt was needed. 

The fight about the laager had been no easy victory. Twelve hundredhalf-starved Britons are no match for fifteen hundred Boers fat witheasy living. Weldon's hold on the crest had decided the game; butthe game had not played itself out without wounds for some and utterweariness for all. War mad, yet half-dazed in all other respects, Weldon had watched the reinforcements come swarming up the hill tohis relief, had heard their cheers mingling themselves with thesound of his name. Then, listless, but with his arm still aboutPaddy's shoulders, he had seen the fight move to its destinedfinish. He came down from the hilltop, feeling that something hadtaken yet one more turn in the evertightening coil of his brain. Forone instant, as they were laying Paddy into the narrow grave scoopedout of the veldt, the coil relaxed. Then, as the lumps of earthclosed over his plucky, loyal little comrade, it tightened again andpressed on him more closely than ever. 

And that was a week ago; and the week between had been one long trekin search of errant Boers. Weldon still rode in the front of thecolumn. He had been ordered into hospital; but, bracing himself, hehad looked the doctor steadily between the eyes and had refused toobey. The hospital was not for him--as yet. "By Jove!" Carew wasremarking deliberately. "Look at the horses!"

Noses in air, tails lashing and eyes staring wildly, the frightenedgroups had swept together and were rushing down upon them in one madstampede. Straight towards the two troopers they came dashing along, swerved slightly and went sweeping past them, wrapped in a thickcolumn of dust which parted, just as the horde rushed by, before thefierce impact of the breaking storm. From zenith to horizon, theleaden sky was marked with wavering lines of golden fire; but theshock of the thunder was outborne by the clash of falling hail. Halfa mile away, the tents were riddled by the egg-sized lumps of ice;and, out on the open veldt, Carew threw himself on the earth, facedownward, and buried his head in his sheltering arms. But Weldonstaggered to his feet. In the thick of the flying troop of horses, he had seen the little gray broncho, and now, before she swept onout of hearing, he turned his back to the gale and gave a high, shrill whistle. It was months, now, since Piggie had learned thatcall. Again and again she had come trotting up to him, to rub hermuzzle against his neck in token that she had heard and understood. There was scant chance that the call would be carried to her by theboisterous wind, scanter chance still that, hearing it now in thatmad rout, she would heed. Nevertheless, Weldon took the chance. Obviously stampeded by the enemy, the missing horses would leave thecolumn powerless to repel the attack which was imminent. If Piggiecould be recalled, there was still a chance to regain the othermounts. Yet, even while he was weighing all the chances, he smiledto himself as he recalled the ineffectual little whistle that hadgone out on the whistling wind. The chance was gone. Like Carew, hewould lie down and seek what shelter he could get from the earth andfrom his own clasping arms. 

The hail, falling thickly, shut down about the troop of horses andtook them from his sight. If his eyes could have followed them, hewould have seen one little gray head toss itself upward from theheart of the throng, one sturdy little gray back move more and moreslowly, turn slightly, then weave its patient way in and out betweenits frightened companions until, free from the press of the crowd, it stood alone on the hail-lashed plain. Ten minutes later, Weldonfelt a soft, wet muzzle poking its way between his tight-lockedarms. The rest was simple. It amounted to riding back to the columnto give warning of the enemy who rode close in the rear, tosummoning Kruger Bobs and The Nig, and then, without stopping for asaddle, to go galloping away to the sky-line to round up thestampeded herd. The first dash of hail over, the rain fell fast uponthem; but, above its roar, they could hear the steady firing of thepom pom behind them and the crackle of musketry mingled with theheavier fire. 

Four o'clock had brought the stampede and the storm. Seven o'clockbrought Weldon and Kruger Bobs, drenched to the skin, back into ademoralized camp. Nine o'clock found Weldon still in the saddle, histeeth chattering, his brown cheeks ablaze and his eyes hot withfever, while he waited for the pitching of his tattered tent. Then, even before its soggy, torn folds were stretched and pegged intoposition, he turned and rode off in search of a doctor. 

"Sorry, " he said briefly; "but I think I've a touch of fever. Canyou put me to bed somewhere?"

The next morning, he greeted Kruger Bobs by the name of a girlcousin who had died, ten years before. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

For two weeks, the fever held Weldon in its grip. For two weeks, hewas prostrate, first with the halting column, then at the basehospital at Kroonstad. The fever was never very high, nor was itintermittent. It merely hung about him and ate away his strength. For the time being, he was content to lie quiet and stare up at theelectric lights scattered through the tent and wonder about Ethel. Now and then some sight in the hospital set him to thinking aboutthe Captain, wondering if he were happy in his new life of rest andpeace, he who had so often been in the thick of the fiercest fight. Or he thought of Paddy, brave, merry little Irishman who, fightinglike an angry wolf, had died with a joke still hanging on his lips. Then his mind went back again to Ethel. 

In vain they urged him to sleep; in vain they gave him bromides. Thebody was at rest; but the wheels of the brain whirred as busily asever, and as logically. No hint of delirium mingled with his thoughtprocesses. It might have saved something if there had. 

Then, one day, Weldon sat up for an hour. The next day, he was putinto his clothes and, three days later, supported on the strong armof Kruger Bobs, he crawled into a hospital train bound for CapeTown. It was an order, and he obeyed. Nevertheless, he shrank fromthe very mention of Cape Town. It had been the core of his universe;but now the core had gone bad. But his time of service had expired. Red tape demanded that he receive the papers for his discharge fromthe Cape Town citadel. That done, he would take the first outgoingsteamer for London. Afterwards, he would leave his life in the handsof Fate. He took no note of the fact that Fate might step into thegame earlier than he then foresaw. 

For full seven hundred miles, the train lumbered on to thesouthward. It was tedious, exhausting; yet Weldon found a certaininterest in the jar of the rolling wheels to which he fitted themeasure of his whirring thoughts. As long as the rhythm of thewheels lasted, his thoughts slowed down to meet their time. When thetrain halted, his thoughts dashed off again; but they resumed theirslower course as soon as the wheels began once more. He took no noteof the country about him, as they passed from veldt to karroo, fromkarroo to the coast plateau, and from the coast plateau down acrossthe Cape Flats, sparsely covered with pipe grass and acacias. Then, as Table Mountain and the Devil's Peak lifted themselves on hisright hand, he knew that Cape Town was near, and he braced himselfto go through what was before him. 

Kruger Bobs eyed him anxiously. 

"Boss sick, " he announced for the dozenth time, as the train drew inat the Adderley Street station. "Boss berry sick mans. Boss go hotelsoon. "

But Weldon shook his head. Even now, rest had scant space in hisplans, least of all, rest in Cape Town. 

"I can do it, " he asserted resolutely. "Steady me till I getstarted, Kruger Bobs. Then I shall astonish you by my agility. "

"Boss go hotel, " Kruger Bobs muttered in low-voiced mutiny. "Bosstoo sick to trek. "

"No fear. Did you ever know me to give out, when there was somethingstill to be done, Kruger Bobs?"

"What Boss do?"

"My discharge. My banker. My passage home. "

The arm of Kruger Bobs tightened about the bony figure of hismaster, but the pressure of his strong arm was only gentle andreassuring, and the great, white-ringed eyes glittered wet. This wasnot the boy master to whom Kruger Bobs had sworn allegiance. Thiswas an older man, and weak withal. But the weaker grew the master, the stronger grew the loyal, loving allegiance of the man. 

After the wide, deserted stretches of open veldt, the roar ofAdderley Street seemed to Weldon like the maddening tumult ofPiccadilly. The noise stunned him; the hurrying crowd filled himwith terror. Even inside the cab, he still clung to the arm of thefaithful Kruger Bobs. Still clinging to that faithful arm, he cameout from the citadel, no longer Trooper Weldon, but Mr. HarvardWeldon once more, honorably discharged from the South African LightHorse. Kruger Bobs was invisible behind the spreading limits of hissmile; but Weldon had scarcely heeded the words which had beenaddressed to him. All at once, like a watch about to run down, thewheels of his brain were moving slowly and ever more slowly. Hiswhole resolution now centered in keeping them in motion long enoughto go to his banker and to the office of the steamship company. Onceon the steamer and sliding out across Table Bay, he could leave therest to the ship's doctor and to Fate. 

Even in the multitude of strangers who had passed through Cape Town, in those latter months, he was remembered at the bank and greetedwith a word of congratulation on his record in the field. At theword, a man beside him, hearing, turned to look, looked again, andthen held out his hand. It was the father of Ethel Dent. 

That night, the Dents dined alone. Over the roast, Mr. Dent lookedup suddenly. 

"Whom do you think I saw, to-day, Ethel?"

"Who now?" she asked, smiling. "You can't expect me to guess, whenyou are constantly running up against the most impossible people. ""Not this time. It was quite possible; but it gave me a shock. Itwas Mr. Weldon. "

The smile died from her lips. Nevertheless, she asked, with a forcedlightness, --

"What shocked you?"

"His looks. He was ghastly, thin to a shadow and burning up withfever. I was in the bank, and I heard some one speak his name; but Ihad to look at him for a second time, before I could recognize him. The man is a wreck. He looked sixty years old, as he went crawlingoff, on the arm of his Kaffir boy. I'm sorry. I always likedWeldon. "

A bit of bread lay by Ethel's plate. For an instant, her finger tipsvanished inside its yielding surface. Then she looked up. 

"Too bad! He was a good fellow, " she said quietly. Then she liftedher hand to her throat. "Dear me! Have I lost my diamond pin?" sheadded hastily. "I was sure I put it on. Please excuse me, while Isee if I left it in my room. " And she ran swiftly out of the room. 

Mrs. Dent broke the pause. 

"Where was Mr. Weldon going?"

"To his hotel. I came out, just as they drove away, and I heard theboy give the order to the driver. "

"Which hotel was it?"

"I--Really, I don't remember. He used to go to the Grand. "

"He seemed ill?"

"He seemed--" For an instant, Mr. Dent held the word in suspension. Then he let it drop with a slow quietness which added tenfold to itsweight--"dead. "

His wife's gentle eyes clouded. 

"I am sorry. I liked the boy. He was good to me. "

"I had thought Ethel liked him, too, " her husband added a littleinconsequently. 

"So she did in a way. But there have been so many others. " Themother sighed slightly. In her young days, there had been but one. Now, remembering that one and watching him in the present, she foundit hard to comprehend Ethel's free-handed distribution of socialfavors among so great a throng of admirers. There had always beenmany; now, since her recent return from Johannesburg, the many hadbecome a multitude, and each of the multitude could show proof ofher liking. But Mrs. Dent recurred to the fact of Weldon's illness. 

"Poor boy! Fancy being really ill, so far from home and in a hotel!"she added slowly. 

"It is one of the risks of a soldier, " her husband reminded her. 

"Yes, and the soldiers fought for us. Where would your mines havebeen without them?" she suggested in return. "I really wish youwould telephone to the hotel and find out something more definiteabout him. "

Her husband looked covetously at the entree, just appearing insight. 

"Now?" he asked. 

She ignored the mockery of his tone. 

"Yes, please, " she assented quietly. "It will only take you aminute. "

It took him ten. When he came back into the room, his hat was in hishand. 

"I think I will go over to the Grand for a minute, " he explained. "Idon't quite like what I hear. "

"What did you hear?"

In the dim upper hallway, a girlish figure leaned far over therailing and strained her ears for the reply. Then, noiselessly, thedoor of her room shut again behind her. 

"They tell me, " Mr. Dent was saying; "that Weldon is there, unconscious in his room. The boy brought him into the house in hisarms, and they have sent for Dr. Wright. It is a bad case ofenteric, mixed with some trouble with the brain. He appears to besuffering from nervous shock, they say, increased by a long strainof anxiety. "

Half an hour later, he was called from Weldon's room to speak to hiswife at the telephone. 

"Yes, " he answered her. "It is as bad as I heard, as bad as it canbe. You think so? Are you strong enough? Sure? Hold the wire, then, till I ask the doctor. " The interval was short; and he went onagain, "The doctor says he can be moved now, but not later. It maybe a matter of weeks. How soon can you be ready? Very well. Will yoube sure to save yourself all you can? In an hour, then. And thedoctor will have a nurse waiting there? And can you put the boy intosome corner? He would be frantic, if we tried to leave him behind. Very well. Yes. " And the telephone rang off. 

It was midnight before the Dent household was fully reconstructed. Upstairs in the great eastern front room, a white-capped nurse wasbending above the unconscious man in the bed; downstairs in thekitchen, the tears of Kruger Bobs were mingling with the cold roastbeef on the table before him. The doctor had just gone away, and inthe room underneath the sickroom, Mr. Dent and his wife were quietlylaying plans to meet the needs of the changed routine which hadfallen upon their home. He looked up, as Ethel came slowly into theroom. 

"By the way, Ethel, I forgot to ask you before; but did you findyour pin?"

She looked at him wonderingly. Her face was pale and drawn; but hereyes were shining like the gems she had professed to miss. 

"What pin do you mean?" she asked blankly. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"Don't wait any longer, Carew. Really, it's not worth while. "

"Too late for us to part company now, " Carew answered serenely. 

"I know. You've stood by me like a good fellow; but it will be sometime yet before I can sail. And you know you are in a hurry to getaway. "

"Don't be too sure of that, " Carew advised him. "All my good thingsaren't at one end of the world. "

Weldon's lips curled into the ghost of his old smile. 

"Then take one of them along with you, " he suggested. 

Elbows on knees and chin on fists joined knuckle to knuckle, Carewturned and smiled blandly down at the face on the pillow. 

"Weldon, for a man who has been off his head for a month, you dohave singularly wise ideas. But do you suppose she'd go?"

"Which?"

"Miss Mellen, of course. It's a question of ages. Young Mahomet iseasier to move than the everlasting hills. "

"Meaning your mother? She would thank you. " "She will thank me, whenshe sees Alice, " Carew responded hopefully. "But, honor bright, doyou suppose Miss Mellen would go back with me?"

"I thought she promised. "

"Yes, but now, " Carew persisted, with the eagerness of a boy. "Rightoff, next month. "

"There's only one way to tell; ask her, " Weldon answered. "If she isthe girl I think she is, she will say yes. "

"You do like her; don't you, Weldon?" The eagerness was still in histone. 

"Intensely, " Weldon replied quietly. "I have seen few women I haveliked as well. "

"What larks we'll be having, this time next year, talking it allover together, " Carew said, in a sudden, thoughtful burst ofprophecy. "By the time we get home, we shall forget the blood andthe dog-biscuit, and only remember the skittles and beer. If only--"

"What?" Weldon looked up at him without flinching. 

Carew did flinch, however. 

"Nothing, " he said hastily. "One is never quite content, you know. "

Weldon drew a deep, slow breath. 

"No, " he echoed. "One is never quite content. "

Carew crossed his legs, as he settled back in his chair. 

"Mayhap. Some of us ought to be, though. "

"Yes. You're a lucky fellow, Carew. "

"So are you. The trouble is, one never knows when he is well off. "

"But we all know when we aren't, " Weldon replied succinctly. 

Carew's glance was expressive, as it roved about the luxurious room, with the bed drawn up near the window which looked out, between thebranches of an ancient oak tree, on the blue waters of Table Bay andon the fringe of shipping by the Docks far to the eastward. Faintlyfrom the room below came the sound of a piano and of a hushedgirlish voice singing softly to itself. 

"It all depends on one's point of view, " Carew said, after aninterval. "I am living in a seven-by-nine room in a hotel, and MissMellen is seventy-two miles and three quarters away. Weldon, you area lucky dog, if you did but know it. "

Weldon shut his teeth for a moment. Then he said quietly, --

"Carew, it is five weeks that I have been in this house. Mr. Dentand dear little Mother Dent have been angel-good to me. Miss Dent--"He hesitated. 

"Has been an archangel?" Carew supplemented calmly. 

"Has never once come into my sight. "

Deliberately, forcefully, the next words dropped from Carew'stongue. "The--devil--she--hasn't!"

"No. "

Then Weldon waited for Carew to speak; but Carew merely sat andstared at his friend in speechless stupefaction. 

"Oh, Lord!" he blurted out at last. "Then you haven't made it up?"

"There was nothing to make up, " Weldon said drearily. 

Again Carew's elbows came down on his knees with a bump. 

"There was, too!" he contradicted, with an explosiveness whichirresistibly reminded Weldon of their kindergarten days. 

"What makes you think so?"

"I don't think. I know. "

"How do you know?" Weldon asked listlessly. 

"Alice Mellen told me, " Carew replied conclusively. 

"Told you what?"

"That Cooee Dent is in love with you. "

From his superior knowledge, Weldon stared disdainfully up at him. 

"Then there is one thing that Alice Mellen doesn't know. "

"She does, then. She told me about it, when you went off on yourfeed, up at Lindley, " Carew explained hurriedly. "I was worriedabout you, and she was worried about Miss Dent, and we comparednotes. You hadn't said a word of any kind; we could only guess atthings, so we wrote to each other about it. She told me then aboutMiss Dent's dashing up to Johannesburg after Vlaakfontein. "

"She went to see her cousin. "

"She also went to see you. "

Carew's emphatic pause was broken by the coming of the nurse, whobent over the bed, raising her brows inquiringly, as she laid twofingers on Weldon's wrist. Carew took the obvious hint. 

"I hope I've not stopped too long, " he said, as he rose. "It hasbeen good to see Mr. Weldon. May I come again?"

The nurse was a true woman. Therefore she smiled back into hishappy, handsome face. 

"I think you may, " she answered. "Mr. Weldon is tired now, but youevidently have done him good. "

Carew meditated aloud, as he went away down the walk. 

"Out of every five women, three are cats, " he observed tranquilly tohimself. "I've cornered the fourth. It remains to be seen whetherWeldon is cornered by the fifth, or only the third. Hasn't been tosee him! Little beast! But I'll bet any amount of gold money thatshe has done endless messing for him on the sly. "

Carew's words showed that it is usually not the man in love with awoman who is the shrewdest judge of the hidden recesses of thatwoman's nature. The fact was, Ethel had slaved unceasingly, butunseen, for the patient above stairs. See him she would not. Dayafter day, she invented fresh excuses to ward off her mother'ssuggestions of a call on the invalid; but also, day by day, sheinvented fresh delicacies to tempt the appetite dulled by months ofarmy biscuit and bully beef. And, meanwhile, she was waiting. 

Rather to her surprise, no message came down to her from theinvalid's room. She had supposed as a matter of course that Weldonwould intuitively recognize the source of the dainties which reachedhim anonymously. Man-fashion, however, he could see no reason thathis beef tea and his wine jelly should be the work of differenthands. He devoured them both, and reflected thankfully upon theskill of the Kaffir cook. Mr. Dent had been scrupulously literal incarrying out the commands laid upon him by his daughter. He had leftin Weldon's mind no doubt whatsoever about the truth of hisstatement that Mrs. Dent alone had been responsible for theinvalid's present quarters. Weldon had lavished thanks upon Mrs. Dent, and she had received them without demur, as her own lawfulproperty. Even now, he was at a loss whether his recovery was moreowing to Mrs. Dent or to the nurse. Each had given to him a largeshare of her vitality. 

From a distance, he could follow Ethel's doings, could assurehimself that his presence was no apparent check upon her happiness. Now it was the muffled whirr of the bell, followed by low voicesfrom the room beneath. Now it was the roll of the carriage, bearingher away to dine or to dance, and leaving Weldon to lie and countthe minutes until she returned. Now it was her light footstep on thestairs, or, but this was only at long intervals, her hushed voice inthe hallway outside his door. At first, he used to lie and hold hisbreath, while he waited for her to open the door of his room. Bydegrees, however, he ceased to expect her. And, as the expectationdied away, he chafed increasingly at the slowness of his recovery. Anything to get out of that house! She treated him as he would havescorned to treat an invalid dog who had taken refuge in his stable. 

All this came slowly. For two endless weeks, Weldon lay unconscious. For two more endless weeks, he raved in delirium. Happily, his nursewas a discreet woman. She discouraged the visits of Mrs. Dent andher husband, offered the excuse that strange faces excited theinvalid, and only admitted them during his brief intervals of sleep. Meanwhile, she used all her professional principles to keep herselffrom trying to solve the problem before her eyes. Upstairs was a mansick unto death, a man who raved ceaselessly of the daughter of thehouse. Downstairs, the daughter of the house was going heraccustomed way, with never a question in regard to the man above. What had happened? How, if anything had happened, how did he chanceto be in that home, with Mrs. Dent as his devoted and anxious slave?Resolutely, she fell to studying her temperature charts. Herspecialty was fever, not heart disease. 

A week after the tide had turned, Carew had been allowed to spend ashort half-hour with the invalid. The next day, by advice of thenurse, Mr. Dent telephoned to him to come again. Something, whetherin his personality or in his talk, had been of tonic power overWeldon. It seemed wise to repeat the experiment. 

Carew came on the heels of his own voice through the telephone; andhis face was smiling broadly, as he went leaping up the stairs. After all, it had not been in vain, his quixotic lingering in CapeTown for a weary month after receiving his discharge. Weldon and hehad been good friends through thick and thin; it would have beenbeastly to leave him. And now, after all these useless weeks, hecould at least do something to lighten the convalescence. Moreover, Carew's pocket held three letters, received that very noon; one ofgrudging approval from his son-sick mother, one of chaotic, butheartfelt thanks from Mrs. Weldon, and the third one an affirmativeanswer to a telegram he had sent to Alice Mellen, only the nightbefore. He went into Weldon's room, looking, as he felt, theembodiment of happiness and health. 

He hailed Weldon from the threshold. Tidings like his could waitduring no interchange of mere conventional greetings. Weldon heardhim to the end, congratulated him, demanded the repetition of allthe details. Then, when Carew's excitement had quite spent itself, Weldon drew a letter from underneath his pillow. 

"It came, this morning, " he added laconically. 

Carew seized the letter and ran his eye down the page. Then his facelighted. 

"Nunc dimittis!" he said piously. "It's sure to be yours! Have youtold Miss Dent?"

"I've not seen Miss Dent. "

Carew's face fell. 

"Not yet? But you will. And then you will tell her?"

Weldon's lips straightened into a thin line. He shook his head. 

"But she ought to know. "

"Why?"

"It is her right. "

"Why?" Weldon asked again. 

"Because--it is. It might make some difference in--"

Weldon stopped him abruptly. 

"It could make no difference, Carew. In facing the main question, such things as that don't count. Even if they did, though, " he roseon his elbow and faced his friend steadily; "even if they did, Iwould never consent to try to bribe a girl into loving me, bytelling her I had won the V. C. It will be time enough for Miss Dentto hear of it, when it is given. "

"But you will be in England then, " Carew objected practically. 

Weldon lay down again and drew the sheet upward till its shadow layacross his lips. 

"What matter?" he answered slowly. "And, besides, Miss Dent isn'tthe girl to be won in any such way as that. Hers is a love to begiven, not bought. "

Half an hour later, Carew met Ethel on the stairs. As he halted tospeak to her, he was shocked at the look in her face. The lips weresmiling; but the eyes were the eyes of a hunted animal. 

"So long since we have met!" he said, as he took her hand. "And somuch has happened. "

"Yes. I have been hoping to congratulate you, " she answered. 

"It was a stunning letter you wrote me, " he said boyishly. "Isuppose we are cousins now. "

Then there came a little pause. Before either of them quite realizedit, the pause had lengthened until it was hard to break. 

"I have been up to see the invalid, " he blurted out at last. 

"How is he?" the girl inquired courteously. 

"Better. " Then a sudden note of resentment crept into Carew's honestvoice. "He is counting the days now before he can be moved. He saysyour mother has been wonderfully good to him. "

The girl stood aside to let Carew pass her by. 

"She is good to everybody, " she assented quietly. "I hope Mr. Weldonwon't think of going away until he can be moved with perfect safety. It is really no trouble to have him here, and the nurse is verycapable. "

And Carew bowed in agreement. Once outside the door, however, hefreed his mind, tersely and with vigor. 

"Damn the nurse!" he said to the oak tree, as he passed it. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 "There's a true Heart in the West World, that is beating still for me, Ever praying in the twilight once again my face to see. Oh, the World is good and gladsome, with its Love both East and West, But there's ever one love only that is still the First and Best. "

The low voice died away. A moment later, Ethel Dent pushed open oneof the long windows of the drawing-room and stepped out on theveranda. The flower-boxes were filled with limp stalks, chilled bythe frost of the previous night; but the sun lay warm over the wide, white steps, over the lawn and over the bay beyond. She stood for amoment, staring thoughtfully out across the bay; then she moved onto the western end of the veranda, looked up at Table Mountain withits cloth of cloud, and then dropped down into one of the chairswhich still remained in the sunny corner. 

That corner held many memories for her. She had sought it nowunconsciously; yet, once there, she lingered, although for weekspast she had been seeking to banish those memories from her life. Why keep them? They belonged to a chapter that was dead and gone. Better to seal its pages and never break the seal. Better never toreread what had been written there. If she had been mistaken ingiving her love where it was not desired, not only should the worldnever be aware of the fact; but she herself would ignore theexistence of that mistake. She had loved Weldon with all the energyof her headstrong, girlish nature. She had supposed that he hadloved her in return. Instead of that, he had gone away and left herwithout a word, just when her need for him was the greatest. No manin his senses could have seen the agony of that last hour she hadspent with Captain Frazer, and failed to understand the pitiful, appealing look she had cast upon him. Unable to escape the agony, she had given this tacit call to Weldon to share it with her, tounderstand, and to forgive. She had been sure she could trust him;but it was evident that she had trusted him in vain. In the hour ofher supremest need, he had gone away and left her alone. No man whocared for her could have forsaken her in such a crisis as that. Herlips curved into a hard little smile, as she sat rocking to and froin the sunshine, and, going back over a past which she had rarelyallowed herself to reopen. 

And afterwards? Afterwards Fate had been all against her. It hadbeen easy to escape from her engagement at Johannesburg, comparatively easy to shut the past experience into the inner placesof her mind, to close her lips with the show of a smile, and toplunge into a whirl of social life which should leave her no timefor quiet thought. So long as she kept her secret to herself, itmattered nothing to the girl that it was eating pitilessly at hervitality, that it was ever hard and harder for her to keep up herceaseless round of gayety. 

And then, all at once, their home life had been invaded by the manwho was never absent from her thoughts. In a sense, she was glad ofthe invasion. It proved to her, more surely than any words couldhave done, that she had kept her secret well and beyond suspicion. Had her mother gained any inkling of the true state of the case, Harvard Weldon would never have been brought away from the room atthe Grand. For so much surety, Ethel Dent could rejoice with athankful heart. Nevertheless, as the days passed by, Weldon'spresence in the house increased the strain tenfold. Night afternight, Ethel had crept noiselessly from her room across the hallwayand crouched outside his door, listening for any sounds from withinwhich might tell her that all was well with the man whom she wouldnot see. Day after day, she forced her life to run along in itsusual grooves, going out of the house with a laugh on her lips and, in her heart, the sickening dread of the tidings which might greether upon her return. Again and again, as she passed the door leftopen during the nurse's temporary absence from the room, she putforth all her strength to keep herself from stealing in, to lookjust once on the unconscious face of the man who had made herwhole life. But she held herself in check, and never once yielded tothe temptation. Well she might hold herself in check. She realizedonly too keenly that, once face to face with Weldon, she would haveto do over again all the weary work of those weeks of self-repression. 

Then the stupor had given place to delirium; and, even in her roomand behind her closed door, she could hear the low, muttering voice. After that, she crouched no more outside his room. It would havebeen impossible for her to say just what it was that she dreaded tohear. Nevertheless, she closed her ears as resolutely as she closedher door; but, when she met the nurse on the stairs, she hurriedonward with her face turned away and her cheeks ablaze. 

And then in its turn the delirium had ended. From that time forward, Ethel went out more constantly than ever. When she was in the house, she started and grew red or pale at every unexpected step. Now, atany hour, there might come a summons for her to go to the invalid'sroom. She went over in detail every possible reply she could make toevery possible word which Weldon might say. She held herself readyfor any emergency. But the days dragged away, and no emergency hadcome. 

And then, as it had chanced, she had been away from home, whenWeldon had finally left the house. It had been the fulfilment of anold promise which had taken her to spend two days with a friend inNewlands. She had had no notion that the time for Weldon's goingaway was at hand. Neither, on the other hand, had Weldon any ideathat Ethel was absent from home. He had merely taken advantage ofthe first day when the doctor had ceased to oppose his removal. Ithad been to him a cruel disappointment that Mrs. Dent had stoodalone on the steps to watch his departure. 

That was three weeks before. Ethel had supposed that Weldon wouldsail for home at once. He had supposed so, too, until all at once hehad found it impossible to turn his back upon Cape Town and all itheld. Deep down in his heart was the memory of Carew's words, assuring him of the reason of Ethel's sudden journey to Johannesburgafter the fight at Vlaakfontein. The episode was now far away in thepast. It might chance, however, that something of the old mood mightlinger in her mind. Carew had felt sure of her love for him. Perhapsshe had loved him once, before the Captain had won the first placein her heart. Perhaps--He had grown dizzy and had grasped the edgeof the pillow to steady himself, the first time the idea had dawnedupon him--Perhaps, now that the Captain had gone beyond the reach ofhuman love, he might win her to care for himself once more. Thechance appeared to him to be wellnigh impossible; yet, while itlingered in his mind, he could not force himself to go away fromCape Town. 

The worst of his convalescence was ended, before he was allowed toleave the Dents' home. He strained every nerve to hasten his fullrecovery. The path of Ethel Dent was not parallel to the course ofany semi-invalid. If he were to meet her at all, it must be as a manin full health. By degrees, the color came back to his face, hislean figure lost something of its lankness, his tread grew firmerand more alert. But the old shadow still lingered in his eyes; thestrained lines about his lips did not relax. Weldon's mental healingkept no pace with his physical one. 

By degrees, too, his table littered itself with cards of invitation. As yet, he felt himself too weak for any but the most informalfunctions; and Carew, always at his elbow, assured him from his ownexperience that informality, just then, was an unknown word in thesocial vocabulary of Cape Town. Carew, bidden on all sides, wasdividing his time between his convalescent friend and the gayetiesof early winter. He dined and danced almost without ceasing; and, inthe intervals of his dining and dancing, he told over to Weldon allthe details of his social career. And these details largelyconcerned themselves with Ethel Dent: how she looked, what she wore, what she said, with whom she danced and with whom she sat it out. And, as he listened, Weldon made up his mind that, for him, the timefor resting at home was ended. It was better, easier to go to seefor himself than it was to sit at home and imagine things, or tohear about them, after they had happened. There was to be areception at the Citadel, next week. He would begin with that. 

One resolution led to the next. Only two days after he haddetermined upon the reception, he ordered Kruger Bobs to saddle thegray broncho and to attend him upon The Nig. Then, when the noon sunlay warm over the city, he mounted and, with Kruger Bobs behind him, he rode slowly down Adderley Street to the water front, and turnedeastward to the home of the Dents. 

The wide veranda and the great white pillars seemed like home tohim, in all truth. That house had been the scene of some of his besthours, as of his worst ones, and his heart pounded madly against hisribs as he caught sight of its familiar outlines. Then he drew inhis breath sharply and bore down hard in his stirrups, while hisface went white to the lips. From the western end of the veranda agirlish figure had risen, halted for a moment with the sun beatingfull upon her vivid hair; then, heedless of the distant riders, ithad turned and disappeared within the doorway. 

The maid's face brightened, as she met Weldon at the door. "But Mrs. Dent is not at home, " she said, with honest regret in her voice. "She has gone out of town. "

Weldon controlled his own voice as best he might. 

"And Miss Dent?" he asked. 

However, the maid had just broken the Baden-Powell tea-cup. Itsfragments were still upon the floor, and she had no mind, just then, to face her young mistress. 

"Miss Dent is not at home, " she answered, with glib mendacity. Andthen she wondered why it was that Weldon's pallor turned from whiteto gray, as he went away down the steps. 

Nevertheless, he fulfilled his resolution of going to the receptionat the Citadel. For one reason, he had given his word to Carew. Moreover, he felt that, for the honor of his manhood, he must accepthis fate like a man. Four months before that time, Ethel Dent hadstabbed him almost to the death. Now, with delicate precision, shehad struck him full across the face. The touch had hurt him far morethan the deeper wound had done; but, at least, she should never beaware of it. To his mind, she had forfeited all right to theknowledge. 

He dressed with careful precision. More than once he was forced tosit down for a moment; more than once his fingers refused to do hisbidding and his hands dropped inertly at his side. However, Carewfound him waiting, hat in hand, and together they drove away to theCitadel. 

Already, when they reached the door, the reception was nearing itshighest tide. The rooms were bright with uniforms and with trailinggowns, gay with the hum of voices; and the lilt of a waltz camesoftly to them from across the distance. As they halted on thethreshold, Weldon lifted his eyes and suddenly found them restingfull upon Ethel Dent. The girl was quite at the farther end of thelong room, the central figure of a little throng, and whollyunconscious of their presence. Her back was towards Weldon. He couldonly see the sweep of her shimmering gown, the heavy coils of yellowhair and the curve of one rounding cheek; yet, even in that partialview, he felt himself astounded at her vitality. It flashed until itdazzled him, and the dazzle hurt. He bowed to the governor andturned away into another room, striving, as he went, to account forthe sudden depression which had fallen upon him. He had not expectedto find Ethel Dent moping alone in a corner; neither had he lookedfor a radiant alertness such as he had never seen in her before. During the long weeks of his illness, his mental picture of her hadbeen colored by the sadness of their last meeting. Now the picturewas torn aside and a new one thrust into its place, and the new oneseemed garish to his weary nerves. 

"Weldon! Have you risen from the grave?"

He turned sharply, to find himself face to face with the captain ofhis former troop. 

"Merely from hospital, " he answered. "I have been lying up forrepairs. "

The other man nodded. 

"I know; and thereby adding to the glamour which surrounds a manelect for the V. C. Are you all right again?"

Weldon's voice hardened to match the strain he was putting upon hiscontrol. 

"Absolutely. I am sailing for home, next week. "

"And taking a farewell view of the place, before you go? Then cometo meet the prettiest girl in Cape Town. "

For an instant, Weldon hesitated. Then, reassured by the directiontaken by his guide, he followed, while the strains of the waltz cameever more distinctly to his ears. His companion craned his neck toreconnoitre. 

"She is dancing now; but she will be through in a moment. There, " headded, as the music rose to a crashing finale; "that is over, and, by George, here she is! Miss Dent, may I introduce another war-wornveteran, Mr. Weldon?"

The shock came so suddenly that neither of them had an opportunityto prepare to resist it. It was Weldon who spoke first, however, andhis voice was level, for he was generous enough to take none of theadvantage which so plainly was all upon his side. 

"Miss Dent and I are old acquaintances, " he said quietly. 

Fortunately the captain was garrulous. 

"Another proof of the smallness of the world, " he said jovially. "Intime, I shall learn the futility of introductions. One is alwayspointing out next-door neighbors to each other's notice. By the way, Weldon, didn't you know Frazer rather well? I used to meet him atyour house so often, Miss Dent. "

Ethel's fingers shut upon the sticks of her fan. 

"Yes, " she assented. "Captain Frazer was one of our best friends. "

All at once, the face of the young captain grew grave. 

"I remember now, " he said quite slowly. "But his loss was a sorrowto us all. His place can never be entirely filled. "

There came a momentary pause. Then, as the captain's broad shouldersvanished in the heart of the crowd, Weldon turned and looked Ethelsquarely between the eyes. 

"Believe me, Miss Dent, " he said simply; "this is none of my doing. "

She made no pretence of misunderstanding him. Instead of that, herquiet voice was full of bitterness, as she gave brief answer, --

"Quite obviously, Mr. Weldon. "

"Thank you for doing me that justice, " he said, after an instantwhen their meeting eyes flashed like meeting blades of steel. "Stuart had no notion that he was making a mess of things. "

She faced him a little proudly. 

"I am unable to see what mess he can have made, Mr. Weldon. It isalways a pleasure to meet an old acquaintance. "

Few things could have hurt him more than the icy conventionality ofher words. All the gentler side of his nature was crying out formercy; but he smothered its cries and faced her bravely, praying thewhile for some one to come to them and end the scene. The Ethel Denthe had known in the old days had been a woman of flesh and blood;this was a statue of marble, polished and beautiful, but coldwithal. He could only seek to meet her with equal coldness, thenmake his escape to nurse his wounds unseen. Nevertheless, in spiteof his resolutions to the contrary, a sudden heat crept into hisanswering words, "But I thought you had annulled the acquaintance. "

She looked up at him in mute surprise. Then, mustering her pride, she forced herself to smile. 

"I?" she answered lightly. "Oh, no, I am only too proud to count aV. C. Among my friends. "

He waited until the last word had dropped from her lips, waiteduntil the silence had dropped over the last word. Then he faced heryet once again. This time, there was determination in his eyes, determination and a great, indomitable love. 

"Ethel, " he said imperiously; "for God's sake, stop fencing with me, and have it out. Remember it is now, or never. "

The color mounted swiftly across her face, then faded, and even toher own ears her laugh failed to ring true. 

"I am sorry; but I fear it is impossible. Here comes ColonelAndersen for his dance. "

Weldon faced about. 

"Colonel Andersen, Miss Dent is longing for an ice, " he said, with asudden masterful quietness. "May I take a convalescent's privilegeand ask you to bring it to her?" Then he turned back to Ethel. "Come, " he bade her. 

"Where?" she protested; but she yielded to his stronger will andfollowed him across the floor towards a deserted corner of the room. 

"Anywhere, where we can talk for a moment, " he answered her, withthe same dominant quietness. Then, while they halted beside an openwindow, he bent forward and laid his hand upon hers, as it restedupon the sill. "Ethel, " he added; "I am going home, next week. I maynever see South Africa again. Before I go--"

Quietly she withdrew her hand. "Before you go, you will come to saygood by to my mother, I hope, " she said, with a steadiness whichgave no hint of the tears behind her lowered lids. 

Impatiently he brushed her words aside. 

"That is for you to say. First of all, I must know one thing. "

Her nerve was failing fast; but she still held to her resolve thathe should gain no hint of her weakness. She drew back a step, as ifhis vehemence terrified her, yet she dared not raise her eyes tohis. It was all she could do to hold her voice in subjection. 

"And what is that?" she asked. 

He waited for an instant, before he answered her question. Her nextwords might contain all, or nothing. His lips shut to a narrow line;then he straightened his shoulders. 

"Ethel, " he said rapidly; "I have been in a good many fights; I'vefound that it hurts more to be mangled than it does to be killed. Speak out, then, and end this thing once for all. Was it final, whatyou said to the Captain, that day?"

She bit her lip; but her voice would not come, and she could onlygive a little, dreary nod. Weldon watched her steadily for a moment;then he turned to go away. 

For another moment, Ethel stared after him, heedless now of thedrops that were sliding down her cheeks. Then, of a sudden, shefound her voice. "Wait!" she said, as she stepped forward with aswift gesture which was wholly imploring, wholly feminine. "It mayhave been final; but finality is not always truth. "

He halted at her words. 

"And you mean?"

"I mean, " she answered him; "I mean that then, and now, and always, I loved one man, and he--" she caught her breath; then she liftedher head proudly; "was you. The rest was all a mistake; but I didwhat I thought was best. "

Weldon bowed his head. 

"No matter now, " he answered. 

Then, taking her hand, he led her back to the open window where theystood together long, while, in the room beyond, an anxious colonelthreaded his way to and fro in the crowd, impatiently hunting thepartner in whose memory he had ceased to exist.