the country between Kroonstad and
Lindley. Their squat outlines and the shining blue of their
corrugated iron roofs had caught his wandering attention, held it,
pinned it to other associations with those same blockhouses and, of
a sudden, had brought him to a full realization that griefs did not
come singly. He had left Johannesburg, to face a future apart from
Ethel. He was coming back to Lindley, to face a future bereft of the
Captain.

It was full noon, the next day, when the camp came into view.
Leaving the convoy to follow in his wake, he headed straight for the
rise where he had so often sat with Carew and gossiped of all things
under the light of the sun. Then, as the round tents lay under his
eyes like rows of dots punched into relief above the surface of the
plain, he sank down on the coarse, parched grass and hid his eyes in
his shaking hands. Yet even then the pitiless circle of tragic
thoughts refused to stop their ceaseless round.

He roused himself at a touch on his arm. Kruger Bobs, at a distance,
was eying him with a look of chastened welcome; but Carew stood
beside him, one thin, sun-tanned hand on Weldon's shoulder.

"It's all right, old man," he was saying. "Don't try to tell me
anything about it. Kruger Bobs saw you coming, and we rode out to
meet you. Come in and rest. You look utterly done up."

Half way back to the camp, Carew spoke again; but it was only once.

"I told the fellows you were coming, and that you would be tired.
They will keep out of your way, till you have had time to rest up a
bit. Paddy is waiting to look out for you; but you needn't worry. He
knows when to hold his tongue. If you need anything, or if you care
to talk, send him out to look for me. Meanwhile, you need some
rest."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"For God's sake, Weldon, how long is this going to last?"

Weldon raised his eyes from the seven-weeks-old Times in his hand,
and looked at Carew in surprise.

"What last?" he questioned blankly.

Carew sprang to his feet and began to pace up and down with
impatient, nervous steps.

"This. Everything," he said.

Weldon's smile, though it went no deeper than his lips, was half
sarcastic, wholly sad.

"Specify," he advised languidly. "My mind can't grasp your
generalities."

Carew took a few more turns. Then he came back to Weldon's side.

"It's this way, Harvey," he said slowly, for the moment lapsing into
the name by which he had called his friend in thei