f white
feathers lined with green, the precursor of the sun-helmet.

"Good job we ain't in Khemistan. Old Harry Lennox would have
court-martialled us like winkin'," said Charteris. "He wouldn't even
consider it an extenuating circumstance that we've won."

"Not very much of a win, since we can't follow it up."

"Well, I don't know. Another fight like this will bring us in sight of
Agpur."

[1] Guns mounted on the backs of camels.

[2] The Mohammedan creed.

CHAPTER XIX.

AS OTHERS SEE US.

"I can't think why there was no letter for me!" lamented Marian Cowper.

"Perhaps it will come by a special runner to-morrow," suggested Honour.
"Papa would send it on, I am sure."

"But it ought to have come to-day. Charley has never missed his proper
day before."

"Perhaps he was too busy to write."

"Too busy! As if he would let anything keep him from writing to me!"

"I didn't mean that he would not wish to write, but that he might not
be able," explained Honour with care.

"Of course. You needn't apologize for Charley to me, thank you. If he
doesn't write it's because he can't, and any one else would understand
how I feel about it--especially when it is getting so near the time for
him to come back." Marian's nerves were evidently on edge, as she
moved restlessly about the room, and shot out her sentences at her
sister like darts. "I wish you wouldn't sit there so quietly. You
don't sympathize a bit. If Charley doesn't come up here next month as
he promised, I don't know what I shall do. At any rate, if anything
happens it will be his fault."

"Oh, Marian, how can you be so unfair?" cried Honour, with her usual
earnestness. "You know poor Charles will come if he possibly can. And
how dreadful to say it would be his fault if anything went wrong!"

"I didn't say 'if anything went wrong'; I said 'if anything happened,'"
corrected Marian pettishly. "And I don't know why you should say 'poor
Charles.' He would be perfectly happy if he was here with me, and so
should I. He understands things--oh, I do want him so!"

"Oh, don't cry," entreated Honour in alarm. "Dear Marian, you will
only do yourself harm, you know, and you were so anxious he should find
you well and cheerful. Just finish your letter to him, and then let us
sit out on the verandah a little before going to bed. The Antonys'
guests will be leaving, and you know how pretty the torches look among
the hills."

"How can I f