Indeed, the tall Sikh, whose finely-cut face and cavernous eye-bones suggested a carving in old ivory, bowed himself almost to the ground before the girl who had saved his admired Captain Sahib from the possibility of a hideous death. But in the midst of an impassioned flow of words, his deep voice faltered; and squaring his shoulders, he saluted Desmond with a gleam of fire in his eyes. "There be more things in the heart of a man, Hazur, than the tongue can be brought to utter. But, of a truth, the Miss Sahib hath done good service for the Border this day." Desmond flung a smiling glance at Honor. "_There's_ fame for you!" he said, with a lightness that was mere foam and spray from great deeps. "The whole Border-side is at your feet!--But what brought you back again, Rajinder Singh?" "Merely a few words I omitted to say to your Honour at parting." The words were soon spoken; and the crowd, breaking up into desultory groups, was beginning to disperse, when, to his surprise, Desmond saw his wife's jhampan appear between the gate-posts, and pause for a moment while she took leave of some one on the farther side. Instinctively he moved forward to greet her; but, on perceiving her companion, changed his mind, and stood awaiting her by the verandah steps. The dead dog lay full in the middle of the path; and Honor, still holding her revolver, stood only a few yards away. At sight of these things the faint shadow of irritation upon Evelyn's face deepened to disgust, not unmixed with fear, and her voice had a touch of sharpness in it as she turned upon her husband. "Who on earth put that horrible dog there, Theo? And why is Honor wandering about with a pistol? I met a whole lot of natives coming away. Has anything been happening?" "The dog was mad, and Honor shot him," Desmond answered, with cool abruptness. Her manner of parting from Kresney had set the blood throbbing in his temples. "I only had a stick to tackle him with; and she very pluckily came to my rescue." While he spoke, Honor turned and went into the house. She was convinced that Evelyn would strike a jarring note, and in her present mood felt ill able to endure it. Evelyn frowned. "Oh, Theo, how troublesome you are! If the dog had bitten a few natives, who'd have cared?" "Their relations, I suppose. And there was a child in danger, Evelyn." "Poor little thing! But you really can't go about trying to get killed for the benefit of any stray sort of people. I am thankful I wasn't here!" "Yes--it was just as well," her husband answered drily, as he handed her out of the jhampan. "What brought you back so early?" "The sun was too hot. I had a headache; and we were all playing abominably. I'm going in now, to lie down." She paused beside him, and her eyes lingered upon his empty coat-sleeve. Lifting it distastefully between finger and thumb, she glanced up at him with a droop of her delicate lips.