tures of the level valley beyond the brow where only he could
have seen the individual he sought, were, at that distance, of Noah's
Ark dimensions. "How he could have recognised any one!" said Nona, her
gaze towards the valley. "I can't even see any one. He's got eyes like
about four hawks!"

Sabre said, "And rides like a--what do they call those things?--like a
centaur."

She turned her head towards him. "He does everything better than any one
else," she said. "That's Tony's characteristic. Everything. He's
perfectly wonderful."

These were enthusiastic words; but she spoke them without enthusiasm;
she merely pronounced them. "Well, I'm off too," she said. "And what
about you, Marko? You're going to work, aren't you? I don't think you
ought to be able to stop and gossip like this. You're not getting an
idler, are you? You used to be such a devoted hard-worker. My word!" and
she laughed as though at some amused memory of his devotion to work.

He laughed too. They certainly had many recollections in common, though
not all laughable. "I don't think I'm quite so--so earnest as I used to
be," he smiled.

"Ah, but I like you earnest, Marko."

There was the tiniest silence between them. Yet it seemed to Sabre a
very long silence.

She was again the one to speak, and her tone was rather abrupt and
high-pitched as if she, too, were conscious of a long silence and broke
it deliberately, as one breaks, with an effort, constraint.

"And how's Mabel?"

"She's all right. She's ever so keen on this Garden Home business."

"She would be," said Nona.

"And so am I!" said Sabre. Something in her tone made him say it
defiantly.

She laughed. "I'm sure you are, Marko. Well, good-by"; and as Derry and
Toms began to turn with his customary sedateness of motion she made the
remark, "I'm so glad you don't wear trouser clips, Marko. I do loathe
trouser clips."

He told her that he rode "one of those chainless bikes."

He said it rather mumblingly. Exactly in that tone she used to say
things like, "I do like you in that brown suit, Marko."

VIII

He resumed his ride. A mile farther on he overtook, on a slight rise, an
immense tree trunk slung between three pairs of wheels and dragged by
two tremendous horses, harnessed tandemwise. As he passed them came the
smell of warm horseflesh and his thought was "Pretty!"

He shot ahead and a line came into his mind:

"_Was this the face that launched a thousand ships_?"