ught that he had something for Ian Deal. He meant to speak to
Carlin of this at the right time.

"Pig-sticking no-end," the cavalry officers had promised and they were
making good.

That third afternoon Carlin and Skag took Nels out toward the open
jungle, which thrust a narrow triangular strip in toward the town. At
intervals they heard shouts, far deeper in. The Great Dane was in his
highest form, after weeks of care and training by Bhanah. He could
well carry his poise in a walk like this; having his full exercise
night and morning. A marvel thing, like nothing else--this dignity of
Nels. . . . The two neared their own magic place--not the monkey glen;
that was deeper in the jungle--the place where they had really found
each other as belonging, in the moment of afterglow.

"It was wonderful then," he said, "but I think--it is even more
wonderful now."

That was about as much as Sanford Hantee had ever put into a sentence.
Carlin looked at him steadily. They were getting past the need of
words. She saw that he was fulfilling her dream. Their story loomed
higher and more gleaming to him with the days. He had touched the
secret of all--that love is Quest; that love means on and on, means not
to stay; love from the first moment, but always lovelier, range on
range. It could only burn continually with higher power and whiter
light, through steady giving to others.

A woman knows this first, but she must bide her time until the man
catches up; until he enters into the working knowledge that the farther
vistas of perfection only open as two pull together with all their art
and power; that the intimate and ineffable between man and woman is
only accomplished by their united bestowal to the world.

They walked long in silence and deeper into the jungle before halting
again. Nels brushed the man's thigh and stood close. Skag's hand
dropped and he felt the rising hackles, before his eyes left Carlin's.
They heard the Dane's rumble and the world came back to them--the
shouting nearer.

For a moment they stood, a sense of languor stealing between them.
Without a word, their thoughts formed the same possibility, as two who
have a child that is vaguely threatened. They were deeper in the
jungle than they thought. . . . The cordon of native beaters was still
a mile away in its nearest arc, but there is never any telling what a
pig will do. . . . They turned back, walking together without haste,
Nels behind