and searched for him, _mem-sahib_; but he was gone. The snows are
melting, and the water runs swift and deep."

"Ah!" It was a gasp rather than an exclamation. Stella was blindly
tottering against the tent-rope, clutching vaguely for support.

The great Sikh caught her ere she fell, his own distress subdued in a
flash before the urgency of her need. "Lean on me, _mem-sahib!_" he
said, deference and devotion mingling in his voice.

She accepted his help instinctively, scarcely knowing what she did, and
very gently, with a woman's tenderness, he led her back into the tent.

"My _mem-sahib_ must rest," he said. "And I will find a woman to serve
her."

She opened her eyes with a dizzy sense of wonder. Peter had never failed
before to procure anything that she wanted, but even in her extremity
she had a curiously irrelevant moment of conjecture as to where he would
turn in the wilderness for the commodity he so confidently mentioned.

Then, the anguish returning, she checked his motion to depart. "No, no,
Peter," she said, commanding her voice with difficulty. "There is no
need for that. I am quite all right. But--but--tell me more! How did
this happen? Why did he sleep on the mountain?"

"How should the _mem-sahib's_ servant know?" questioned Peter, gently
and deferentially, as one who reasoned with a child. "It may be that the
opium of his cigar was stronger than usual. But how can I tell?"

"Opium! He never smoked opium!" Stella gazed upon him in fresh
bewilderment. "Surely--surely not!" she said, as though seeking to
convince herself.

"_Mem-sahib_, how should I know?" the Indian murmured soothingly.

She became suddenly aware that further inaction was unendurable. She
must see for herself. She must know the whole, dreadful truth. Though
trembling from head to foot, she spoke with decision. "Peter, go outside
and wait for me! Keep that old beggar too! Don't let him go! As soon as
I am dressed, we will go to--the place--and--look for him."

She stumbled over the last words, but she spoke them bravely. Peter
straightened himself, recognizing the voice of authority. With a deep
salaam, he turned and passed out, drawing the tent-flap decorously into
place behind him.

And then with fevered energy, Stella dressed. Her hands moved with
lightning speed though her body felt curiously weighted and unnatural.
The fantastic thought crossed her brain that it was as though she
prepared herself for her own funeral.

No