ting a man than a woman. But in the eyes and lips the woman
triumphed--eyes blue-grey under very straight brows, and lips that
even in repose preserved a rebellious tendency to lift at the corners.
From her father, and a long line of fighting ancestors, Honor had
gotten the large build of a large nature; the notable lift of her
head; and the hot blood, coupled with endurance, that stamps the race
current coin across the world.

A jolt of unusual violence, flinging her against the carriage door,
announced conclusively her arrival at the last of the embryo stations,
and straightway the stillness of dawn was affronted by a riot of life
and sound. Men, women, and children, cooking-pots and bundles,
overflowed on to the sunlit platform; and through their midst, with a
dignified aloofness that only flowers to perfection in the East, Honor
Meredith's tall _chuprassee_[1] made his way to her carriage window.
Beside him, in a scarlet coat over full white skirts, cowered the
distressed figure of an old ayah, who for twenty years had been a
pillar of the household of Meredith.

[1] Government servant.

"Hai, hai, Miss Sahib!" she broke out, lifting wrinkled hands in
protest. "How was it possible to sleep in such a night of strange
noises, and of many devils let loose; the rail _gharri_[2] itself
being the worst devil of them all! Behold, your Honour hath brought us
to an evil country, without water and without food. A country of
murderers and barefaced women. Not once, since the leaving of Pindi,
have I dared close an eyelid lest some unknown evil befall me."

[2] Carriage.

A statement which set her companion smiling under the shelter of his
moustache and beard, at thought of the many times he had saved her
slumbering form from collision against the woodwork of the train. But,
with the courtesy of his kind, he forebore to discomfort her by
mention of such trifling details.

"It is necessary to cross the river on foot, Miss Sahib," he said: and
without more ado Honor fared forth into the untempered sunlight,
closely followed by her two attendants, and a string of half-naked
coolies bearing her luggage.

From the dreary little terminus a cart-track sloped to the river,
which at this point sweeps southward with a strong rush of water, its
steep banks forming a plateau on either hand. The narrow gorge was
spanned by a rough bridge of boats lashed firmly together; and on the
farther side Honor found a lone dak bungalow, its h