ng
bath-towel. Otherwise he was fastidiously arrayed in white flannels and,
by his seraphic smile and guileless expression, seemed abnormally at
peace with his circumstances.

Halting, Ember surveyed the spectacle with mocking disfavour, as though
he felt himself slightly at a disadvantage. He was, indeed, in a state
that furnished an admirable contrast to that of the elegant if disabled
idler. His face was scarcely whiter with the impalpable souvenirs of the
road than was his slate-coloured mohair duster. The former, indeed,
suffered by comparison, its personal coat of dust being deep-rutted with
muddy paths of perspiration; beneath all lay the dull flush of flesh
scorched by continuous exposure to sunlight and the swift rush of
superheated air. None the less, his eyes, gleaming bright as through a
mask, were not unamiable.

"Hel-_lo_!" he observed, beginning to draw off his gauntlets as he
ascended the veranda steps and dropped into another wicker chair.

"How _do_ you do?" returned Whitaker agreeably.

"I'm all right; but what the deuce's the matter with you?"

"Game leg, thanks. Twisted my ankle again, this morning. Sum Fat has
been doctoring it with intense enthusiasm, horse liniment and chopped
ice."

"That's the only proper treatment for sprains. Bad, is it?"

"Not very--not half as bad as I thought it would be at first. Coming on
top of the other wrench made it extra painful for a while--that's all.
By to-morrow morning I'll be skipping like the silly old hills in the
Scriptures."

"Hope so; but you don't want to overdo the imitation, you know. Give
nature a chance to make the cure complete. Otherwise--well, you must've
had a pretty rotten stupid time of it, with that storm."

"Oh, not at all. I really enjoyed it," Whitaker protested.

"Like this place, eh?"

"Heavenly!" asserted the invalid with enthusiasm. "I can't thank you
enough."

"Oh, if you forgive me for leaving you alone so much, we'll call it
square." Ember lifted his voice: "Sum Fat, ahoy!"

The Chinaman appeared in the doorway, as suddenly and silently as if
magically materialized by the sound of his name. He bore with
circumspection a large tray decorated with glasses, siphons, decanters
and a bowl of cracked ice.

"I make very remarkable damn fine quick guess what you want first," he
observed suavely, placing the tray on a small table convenient to
Ember's hand. "That all now?"

"You're a sulphur-coloured wizard with pigeon-toe