And with a rebellious crumpling of her forehead Evelyn obeyed. "I am afraid the Major's news must have been rather a shock to you, Miss Meredith," Desmond went on, as their horses mounted the slope. "But we've all been expecting it this long while. He takes too little leave and steadily overworks himself, ... that's the truth. But then, ... you should see what he's done for the regiment in the last ten years!" The spark of enthusiasm in the man's tone struck an answering spark from his companion. "That's the true way to look at it," she declared warmly. "So many people simply call him a fool. It's the fashion to sneer at enthusiasm in these days." "We don't sneer at it in this part of the world," Desmond replied with quiet emphasis. "I see now why the Major said I should find you the right sort for the Frontier and a help to ... my Evelyn. I have transplanted her to a very rough soil, I only hope she's fit to stand it." "_I_ think so. She has been too carefully sheltered till now; and it's just a matter of adapting herself to fresh conditions. You may count on me to do all I can for her while I am here." "Your name is sufficient guarantee for that!" he answered simply; and the implied compliment to her brother quickened every pulse in her body. They parted at Major Meredith's gate, Desmond promising to report the result of the final contest on his way home; and the girl sat watching him thoughtfully till a dip in the road hid him from view. CHAPTER III. THE BIG CHAPS. "Love that is loud or light in all men's ears, * * * * * That binds on all men's feet, or chains, or wings." --SWINBURNE. Honor woke early, springing from dreamless sleep to alert wakefulness, as is the way of vivid natures, and the first sight that greeted her was the huddled form of Parbutti, her chin between her knees, her dark eyes bright and watchful. Honor's smile was answered by a flash of light across the old woman's face as she arose and salaamed to the ground. "Behold, while the Miss Sahib slept like a little child, I have laid out the riding-gear as of custom, and now I go to prepare the _terail_[5] for _chota hazri_.[6] They are not ill folk in this compound, Hazur; and there goes but one word among them, that our Sahib is a diamond fit for a king's turban, understanding the heart of black men, giving no shame words, neither smiting with his foot as do many officer-sahibs. It is well for us, who come strangers to a country of murderers, to be of the household of such a Sahib. Nay, then, child of my heart, I will cease from idle talk, ... it is an order. Doth not my pearl and the light of my life await her chota hazri?" [5] Tray. [6] Small breakfast. And the old woman, whose garrulity was as dust in the balance when weighed against twenty years of faithful service, shuffled out of the room.