do you mean by 'luck,' Damocles? All that happens is ordained by
God in His infinite mercy." Yes.

Holy Bill had never done a day's work in his life nor missed a
meal--save when bilious from overeating....

A pity the infinite mercy didn't run to a little water! It would have
been easy for the all-seeing and merciful Providence to move him to
retain his water-bottle when starting the stalk--if it were necessary
to the schemes of the Deity to have him smashed like a dropped egg....
What agony a human being could endure!...

Not even his rifle at hand with its means of speedy death. He might
live for days and then be torn alive by those accursed vultures. One
mighty effort to turn on his back and he would breathe easier--but
that would bring his eyes to the sun--and the vultures.... Had he
slept or fainted? How long had he lain there?... Chance of being
found? Absolutely none. Shikarri would have visited the dak-bungalow a
week ago. Camel left below on the plain--and it would wander miles
from where he left it when it grew hungry. Even if Abdul and an
organized search-party were after him _now_ they might as well be
searching for a needle in a hay-stack. No one knew which of the
thousand gullies he had ascended and no one could track camel-pads or
flat rubber soles over bare solid rock, even if given the
starting-point. No--he had got to die of thirst, starvation, and
vultures, barring miracles of luck--and he had _never_ had any good
luck--for luck existed, undoubtedly, in spite of mealy-mouthed
platitude-makers and twaddle about everything being pre-arranged and
ordained with care and deliberation by a kind paternal Providence.

And what luck he had had--all his life! Born fated!

Had he fainted again or slept? And could he hear the tinkle of ice
against the sides of a tall thin tumbler of lemonade, or was it the
sound of a waterfall of clear, cold water close by? Were the servants
asleep, or was the drink he had ordered being prepared?... No--he was
dying in agony on a red-hot rock, surrounded by vultures and probably
watched by foxes, jackals and hyenas. And a few yards away were the
rifle that would have put him out of his misery, and the water-bottle
that would have alleviated his pain--to the extent, at any rate, of
enabling him to think clearly and perhaps scribble a few words in
blood or something, somehow, for Lucille ... Lucille! Would the
All-Merciful let him see her once again for a moment in return for