r had belonged to Honor Meredith; that, even now, empty casket
though it was, awoke in him a subtle sense of her presence; of the
strength and cheerfulness that crowned her beauty like a diadem, and
transformed his outlook on life.

The letter to Mrs Denvil was written in the small hours. Harry never
discovered its contents; but his mother, after reading it half a dozen
times, locked it up with a hoard of sacred treasures pertaining to her
boy. And soon after six, in the pitiless gold of dawn, the two men
cantered leisurely down to early parade.

Here Desmond's attention was arrested by the absence of Rajinder
Singh. Hailing a lesser native officer, he learnt that the Ressaldar
had been ill with sun-fever all night, and was still quite unfit for
work. Hindus are creatures of little or no stamina, and they go down
like mown grass before the unhealthy heat of the Frontier.

Desmond despatched a message to the stricken man, adding that he
himself would come to make inquiry before eleven o'clock. On his
return he found Harry temporarily quieter, and fallen into a light
sleep.

"I must see Frank about him," he reflected, "on my way back from the
Lines." For Frank was the regimental standby in every emergency, and
would claim the lion's share of the nursing as a matter of course.

True to his word, Desmond was back on the deserted parade-ground by
half-past ten, his syce pursuing him closely, a flat paper parcel
under his arm. It contained a full-length photo of himself in the
silver frame that had held his mother's picture, because frames were
not to be procured at an hour's notice in Kohat, and he had a great
wish that his gift should be complete: a lasting memento--such as the
old Sikh would keenly appreciate--of their stirring ride, and of the
fact that he owed his life to the man's remarkable quickness of ear
and brain.

Rajinder Singh lived alone; for the Sikh, when he enters Imperial
service, leaves his wife behind in her own village. His one-roomed hut
was saturated with heat, and almost devoid of light. It contained a
chair, a strip of matting, and a low string-bed, with red cotton quilt
and legs of scarlet lacquer. Mud walls and floor alike were
scrupulously clean. Sacred vessels, for cooking and washing, were
stowed away out of reach of defilement. Above his bed the
simple-hearted soldier had nailed a crude coloured print of the
_Kaiser-i-Hind_ in robes and crown; and on the opposing wall hung a
tawdry look