unobservant
overlooked him altogether.

"Yes," said Shere Ali, "since you want to come you will come."

"I shall try to come," said Linforth, simply. "We belong to the Road,"
and for a little while he lay silent. Then in a low voice he spoke,
quoting from that page which was as a picture in his thoughts.

"Over the passes! Over the snow passes to the foot of the Hindu Kush!"

"Then and then only India will be safe," the young Prince of Chiltistan
added, speaking solemnly, so that the words seemed a kind of ritual.

And to both they were no less. Long before, when Shere Ali was first
brought into his room, on his first day at Eton, Linforth had seen his
opportunity, and seized it. Shere Ali's father retained his kingdom with
an English Resident at his elbow. Shere Ali would in due time succeed.
Linforth had quietly put forth his powers to make Shere Ali his friend,
to force him to see with his eyes, and to believe what he believed. And
Shere Ali had been easily persuaded. He had become one of the white men,
he proudly told himself. Here was a proof, the surest of proofs. The
belief in the Road--that was one of the beliefs of the white men, one of
the beliefs which marked him off from the native, not merely in
Chiltistan, but throughout the East. To the white man, the Road was the
beginning of things, to the Oriental the shadow of the end. Shere Ali
sided with the white men. He too had faith in the Road and he was proud
of his faith because he shared it with the white men.

"We shall be very glad of these expeditions, some day, in Chiltistan,"
said Linforth.

Shere Ali stared.

"It was for that reason--?" he asked.

"Yes."

Shere Ali was silent for a while. Then he said, and with some regret:

"There is a great difference between us. You can wait and wait. I want
everything done within the year."

Linforth laughed. He knew very well the impulsiveness of his friend.

"If a few miles, or even a few furlongs, stand to my credit at the end, I
shall not think that I have failed."

They were both young, and they talked with the bright and simple faith in
their ideals which is the great gift of youth. An older man might have
laughed if he had heard, but had there been an older man in the hut to
overhear them, he would have heard nothing. They were alone, save for
their guides, and the single purpose for which--as they then
thought--their lives were to be lived out made that long day short as a
summer's night.