“She doesn’t remind me of any one,” he retorted. “Ziné is in a class all her own. I’ve never met any one like her before.” “Bad as that, is it, old thing?” I replied, unfeelingly. “You want to get back to civilization. Too much trekking has upset you.” “D---- civilization! Think of Ziné among a crowd of chattering idiots such as one meets at home!” “You used to chatter with them all right upon occasion, so you shouldn’t heave bricks.” “Must talk to some one. But when one’s met the real article--things are different,” he answered, rather lamely. “I suppose they are,” I said as I pulled up my blankets and made pretence of going to sleep. But it was poor pretence, and I was glad when Wrexham, who was immersed in the precious book of engineering formula that he had brought with him, put out the light and I could lie in the dark, open-eyed, without fear of people talking to me. D---- Andros! Still, anyway, I should go riding with Aryenis the next day, and then soon we should be off to Aornos, and after that the war, when doubtless one might be too busy to waste time thinking. And after that the camels and home, even if all the rest went mad and wanted to stop in Sakaeland. I should still have Sadiq. So next morning after the early breakfast, Aryenis and I rode out into the town to visit the shops where they sold the silk work of the upper valley. I had the pleasure of paying out some of Kyrlos’s new silver coinage--which we had got from his treasury in exchange for our Chinese silver--for a pair of silk-embroidered leather gauntlets such as the upper-class Sakae women wear when riding. “I hope you will try and read my thoughts often, Harilek,” remarked Aryenis, regarding her new gloves as we rode along. “I love winning things.” “I’ll make the same bet again if you like.” “Certainly. I could do with several more pairs of gloves. Will you begin?” “No, not yet. I shall wait till the thoughts require elucidating.” “But why not now?” “Because they’re not worthy of my skill at present, since you can read them yourself at the moment.” “You’re very clever this morning, Sir Thought-Reader.” “I was listening to you singing last night.” “What’s that got to do with it?” “It was clear that you had resolved some tangled thoughts a bit more than at dinner-time. You are easier to read when you sing, even though I don’t know Sakae. Andros plays well, and you were in tune with him.” “Yes; he _was_ rather good last night.” We had come out into the open space beyond the walls, where some of Milos’s levies were collecting. There were rows and rows of felt tents and lines of brushwood shelters, while beyond these a party of men were practising with their bows against wicker targets under the direction of some N.C.O.’s. The Sakae are fine bowmen; and, although much of the rest of the levies’ armament was crude, I fancied they would be able to give a good enough account of themselves when they got an opportunity of using their own pet weapon.