hat stiff from long
bathing. 'This is life,' he thought as the sun came out, and they
strode mile after mile down the valley. Afterwards came the
shining drift, and the last climb up to the Station.

When Hood reached Capetown, he found a letter awaiting him. His
chosen traveling companion an explorer was delayed up-country.
Hood was sorry to get that letter. Then the possibilities of a
lonely journey struck him. He revived the remembrances of
long-room life as an under-schoolboy. He took an open berth for a
three weeks' voyage. Whereas, in the English public school he had
gone to, Gentiles had been many and Jews the exception, the
balance was now redressed.

It was a good time on the whole that he had on this voyage, but
he was glad indeed to be out of the boat and in England once
more, his own South-country England! The spring and early summer
were kind to Hood, then July came and brought the gathering in
Berkshire. All the old forgatherers of five years ago were there,
all but that one they had left behind in Africa. He had gone to
sleep there, three long years ago in the past.

'How I do miss Hunter!' confided the explorer to Hood. 'They seem
to have aged a lot, some of the others,' he explained forlornly.

Hood stared at him as he steered their boat down the river. He
reflected.

'I think you're right,' he said. 'But you haven't aged a bit. Nor
have I. Nor has our host so very much. That's how the dividing
line comes in. The others are all married, much married, and like
their little comforts.'

'You're right there,' said the explorer, disconsolately. 'A
bread-and-cheese lunch in a bar parlor and a twenty-mile walk
didn't suit Warner. He used not to be like that. If only he'd
kept out in Africa after the war.'

'Warner's better than somebody we both know,' grumbled Hood.
'Having a car of his own hasn't made him any younger.'

'Never mind,' the explorer said, 'there's two of us out in Africa
yet, and not likely to marry. There used to be three, usedn't
there?'

'I do wish we had one to spare,' said Hood. 'It'd be rather a
tragedy for the other one if one of us two deserted. But you'll
try not, won't you, and I'll try too.'

While they stayed with their bachelor host, friends of his,
married and single alike, were very kind to them. The rector, who
had only come last year, asked them to make themselves at home in
his garden. It had a blaze of civilization in its front borders,
now, but at the back of