people; and a new generation of Luttrells would hold their commissions
in the Clayfords. He had said his last word concerning Stella Croyle.

But Hillyard was wrong. For in the dark of the morning, when he had
bestridden his donkey and given the order for his caravan to march, he
was hailed by Luttrell's voice. He stopped, and Luttrell came down in
his pyjamas from the door of the house to him.

"Good luck," he said, and he patted the donkey's neck. "Good luck, old
man. We'll meet in England some time."

"Yes," said Hillyard.

It was not to speak these words that Harry Luttrell had risen, after
wishing him good-bye the night before. So he waited.

Luttrell was still, his hand on the little donkey's neck.

"You'll remember me to our honorary member, won't you?"

"Yes."

"Don't forget."

"I won't."

Nor was it for this reminder, either. So Hillyard still waited, and at
last the words came, jerkily.

"One thing you said yesterday.... I was very glad to hear it. That
Stella was well--quite well. You meant that, didn't you? It's the
truth?"

"Yes, it's the truth."

"Thank you ... I was a little afraid ... thank you!"

He took his hand from the donkey's neck, and Hillyard rode forward on
the long and dreary stage to the one camping ground between Senga and
Senaar.

For a little while he wondered at this insistence of Harry Luttrell upon
the physical health of Stella Croyle, and why he had been afraid. But
when the dawn came his thoughts reverted to his own affairs. The message
delivered to him in the forest of the River Dinder! It might mean
nothing. It was the part of prudence to make light of his hopes and
conjectures. But the hopes would not be stilled, now that he was alone.
This was the Summons, the great Summons for which, without his
knowledge, the experiences of his life, detail by detail, had builded
him.

CHAPTER VIII

HILLYARD HEARS NEWS OF AN OLD FRIEND

At Khartum, however, disappointment awaited him. He was received without
excitement by a young aide-de-camp at the Palace.

"I heard that you had come in last night. A good trip? Dine with me
to-night and you shall show me your heads. The Governor-General's in
England."

"There's a telegram."

"Oh yes. It came up to us from Cairo. Some one wanted to know where you
were. They'll know about it at Cairo. We just pushed it along, you
know," said the aide-de-camp. He dined with Hillyard, admired his heads,
arranged for his sleeping