A good horse would see me there long before the midday meal, and a quiet afternoon might soothe my sand-papered soul somewhat. We would talk of old books or of history, and, in answering his questions about the great world, which he knew only from writings centuries old, I would forget those far older, but eternally new matters which clamoured so incessantly for notice. So I called Payindah, and told him to get horses--Kyrlos had placed the best of his stable at our disposal--and a little later, with the Punjabi, very smart in the new outfit of mail and leather which Kyrlos with the most nicely worded thanks had formally presented to him and Firoz, I was cantering down the Aornos road. Payindah’s steel cap winked in the sunshine, and as he looked my way I noticed again the chiselled silver plate in front, which I knew bore Aryenis’s name. She had had that done herself for the two men, so that all who met them might know to what they owed their arms. “Some little memory of a brave deed well done,” she had said to me as she gave Payindah his cap after Kyrlos had handed them the new mail jerkins. But my cap was bare of crest or favour. “This is a land as good as Farance, sahib,” said Payindah, looking out over the countryside with its rich soil, its thick masses of trees, and the populous little villages all surrounded by fruit orchards. “It is richer than even the canal districts of the Punjab. And a good folk in it, like unto those of Farance. Brave men and masterful women, and children as stout as those of my own land. One could settle well in such a country.” He looked at me closely. “And what would you do here?” said I. “You would be in a strange land, having neither kith nor kin and no fields of your own? The people, too, are of other faith than yours, and their manners are strange. Nor even is there a mosque.” “But what is this talk of strange land and strange ways to an Awan who has soldiered for the Sirkar[6] over half the world? Were not the people of Farance of other faith, and there were no mosques in the country. But were we Punjabis the less at home? Last night I ate with Temra, and it was like to the billets in Farance. And his women, his wife and her sister, ate with us after the manner of those we saw in Europe.” “So Temra’s wife has a sister, has she? Is she married?” “No, though she is of full marriageable age--over-aged, we should say, in the Punjab.” “Perchance about to be married?” “Not so. I asked Temra on the matter.” This sounded interesting, but, considering Payindah had been less than three weeks in the country, I wondered how he had contrived to get to the stage of conversation. I expect it was pretty monosyllabic. I followed up the train. “I suppose you were thinking of seeking land here, then, and not coming back with us to the Punjab.”