rock in the Ghineh bend. We
shall have to be hauled up, as usual.--Somebody tell me if there's an
Indian contingent, or I'll break everybody's head.--Don't tear the
map in two.--It's a war of occupation, I tell you, to connect with the
African companies in the South.--There's Guinea-worm in most of the
wells on that route.' Then the Nilghai, despairing of peace, bellowed
like a fog-horn and beat upon the table with both hands.

'But what becomes of Torpenhow?' said Dick, in the silence that
followed.

'Torp's in abeyance just now. He's off love-making somewhere, I
suppose,' said the Nilghai.

'He said he was going to stay at home,' said the Keneu.

'Is he?' said Dick, with an oath. 'He won't. I'm not much good now, but
if you and the Nilghai hold him down I'll engage to trample on him till
he sees reason. He'll stay behind, indeed! He's the best of you all.
There'll be some tough work by Omdurman. We shall come there to stay,
this time.

But I forgot. I wish I were going with you.'

'So do we all, Dickie,' said the Keneu.

'And I most of all,' said the new artist of the Central Southern
Syndicate.

'Could you tell me----'

'I'll give you one piece of advice,' Dick answered, moving towards
the door. 'If you happen to be cut over the head in a scrimmage, don't
guard.

Tell the man to go on cutting. You'll find it cheapest in the end.
Thanks for letting me look in.'

'There's grit in Dick,' said the Nilghai, an hour later, when the room
was emptied of all save the Keneu.

'It was the sacred call of the war-trumpet. Did you notice how he
answered to it? Poor fellow! Let's look at him,' said the Keneu.

The excitement of the talk had died away. Dick was sitting by the studio
table, with his head on his arms, when the men came in. He did not
change his position.

'It hurts,' he moaned. 'God forgive me, but it hurts cruelly; and yet,
y'know, the world has a knack of spinning round all by itself. Shall I
see Torp before he goes?'

'Oh, yes. You'll see him,' said the Nilghai.

CHAPTER XIII

The sun went down an hour ago,
I wonder if I face towards home;
If I lost my way in the light of day
How shall I find it now night is come?

--Old Song.

'MAISIE, come to bed.'

'It's so hot I can't sleep. Don't worry.'

Maisie put her elbows on the window-sill and looked at the moonlight on
the straight, poplar-flanked road. Summer had come upon Vitry-sur-Marne
and parched it to t