V.

"And echo circles in the air,
Is this the end--is this the end?"
--Tennyson.

September was drawing to a close. Every day the sun fought a losing
battle against the frost and bitter winds of the Pamirs, that pierce
even through sheep-skin coats to the marrow of the bones; and every
night the thermometer fell to zero, or below it. For winter begins
betimes on the "Roof of the World."

On just such a night of keen stars, and still, penetrating cold, Lenox
sat alone in his circular tent of felt and lattice-work--the one form
of habitation used by the nomads of the district--his coat-collar
turned up, a rug round his legs, his fingers numb and blue, writing up
the official and private records of his week's work. In the middle of
the floor a fire of roots flamed and crackled cheerfully enough, the
smoke, and most of the heat, escaping through a hole in the domed roof
above. A felt rug or two, a camp chair and table, and three sheep-skin
bags, laid out for sleeping, gave an air of rough comfort to the place.
But with the thermometer at zero, fuel scarce, and provisions running
very low, actual comfort was past praying for. Lenox shifted his chair
an inch or two nearer the blaze, drawing the camp table along with him,
and disturbing Brutus, who acted as foot-warmer in return for the
privilege of sleeping under the rug.

"Sorry to shunt you, old chap," he apologised aloud. "But you're a
deal better off down there than I am."

Sundry tappings on his left foot signified grateful acknowledgment of
the fact, as Brutus settled himself afresh and dropped back into the
land of dreams, whither Lenox would gladly have followed him. For the
week had been a hard one, and he was very tired. The frost seemed to
have gripped both body and brain, and too long a spell of
mountaineering at high altitudes was beginning to tell upon his
strength; so that he had been thankful for the flat expanses of the
Pamirs, which had made riding possible and pleasant once again.

His entrance into the brigand state, and his polite, but unequivocal
ultimatum to its insubordinate chief had been carried through, not
without moments of uncertainty and danger, yet with complete success,
and throughout the past six weeks he had been enjoying his first big
tour of that strange region of raised valleys and vast, wind-swept
spaces where the boundary lines of three Empires meet.

Since the night when he had flung away the cherished pi