a great spur of
the mountain which runs down into the desolate valley des Etancons, and
at its upper end melts into the great precipitous rock-wall which forms
one of the main difficulties of the ascent. Against this wall the clouds
were massed. Snow lay where yesterday the rocks had shone grey and ruddy
brown in the sunlight, and against the great wall here and there icicles
were hung.

"It looks unpromising," said Linforth. "But Peter says that the
mountain is in good condition. To-morrow it may be possible. It is
worth while waiting. We shall get down to La Grave to-morrow instead of
to-day. That is all."

"Yes. It will make no difference to our plans," said Shere Ali; and so
far as their immediate plans were concerned Shere Ali was right. But
these two men had other and wider plans which embraced not a summer's
holiday but a lifetime, plans which they jealously kept secret; and these
plans, as it happened, the delay of a day in the hut upon the Meije was
deeply to affect.

They turned back into the room and breakfasted. Then Linforth lit his
pipe and once more curled himself up in his rug upon the straw. Shere Ali
followed his example. And it was of the wider plans that they at once
began to talk.

"But heaven only knows when I shall get out to India," cried Linforth
after a while. "There am I at Chatham and not a chance, so far as I can
see, of getting away. You will go back first."

It was significant that Linforth, who had never been in India, none the
less spoke habitually of going back to it, as though that country in
truth was his native soil. Shere Ali shook his head.

"I shall wait for you," he said. "You will come out there." He raised
himself upon his elbow and glanced at his friend's face. Linforth had
retained the delicacy of feature, the fineness of outline which ten years
before had called forth the admiration of Colonel Dewes. But the ten
years had also added a look of quiet strength. A man can hardly live with
a definite purpose very near to his heart without gaining some reward
from the labour of his thoughts. Though he speak never so little, people
will be aware of him as they are not aware of the loudest chatterer in
the room. Thus it was with Linforth. He talked with no greater wit than
his companions, he made no greater display of ability, he never outshone,
and yet not a few men were conscious of a force underlying his quietude
of manner. Those men were the old and the experienced; the