“To Kubbet-ul-Haj. There is safe-keeping in Ethiopia for any Farangi prisoner,” answered the man with an insolent laugh, and Lady Haigh grew white under her veil. “Ethiopia! That means Central Asia, then!” she said. “Never mind, Pen. They’ll catch us up before we get there. We can’t possibly get farther than the Ethiopian frontier to-night, if as far.” Although she spoke rather to encourage Penelope than because she believed what she said, Lady Haigh proved to be right. The discipline of the guards seemed to disappear as they were farther removed from their leader at Sheikhgarh; and at noon, thinking that all danger was past, they insisted on a rest of two or three hours, despite the remonstrances of Nizam-ul-Mulk. Hence, when evening came on, the Ethiopian frontier was still an hour’s ride away, and they positively refused to attempt to reach it that night, demanding that a camp should be formed on a low hill covered with brushwood--an excellent position both for concealment and for discerning the approach of an enemy. Nizam-ul-Mulk was forced to yield. The horses were picketed in a hollow on the Ethiopian side of the hill, a rude tent was pitched for the ladies, and a due portion of the rough food of the escort sent them through Hafiza. When the comfortless meal was over, they were thankful to lie down, without undressing, on the _resais_ with which Wazira Begum had supplied them; and Hafiza, at any rate, was soon audibly, as well as visibly, asleep. But presently Penelope sat up and said softly, “Elma, are you awake?” “Ye-es,” responded Lady Haigh sleepily. “What’s the matter?” “Oh, do let us talk a little. I can’t sleep. Elma, if they should separate us--if they are only pretending to go to sleep----” “Nonsense! after such a day of riding they are as tired as I am, and that’s saying a good deal. Don’t conjure up horrors.” “But if they took us to different places! Oh, Elma, if I was alone among these people I should die!” “Oh no, you wouldn’t. You’d get on much better than you think.” “I couldn’t do anything. You can say what you like to these people and they obey you. No one would obey me.” “Well, you conquered Wazira Begum, at any rate. I only made her hate me, though she did what I told her.” “But as long as you’re there, I feel safe--as if you were a man.” “What a testimony! But, Pen, you’re horribly old-fashioned. You shouldn’t be such a honeysuckle kind of girl--always leaning on some one and clinging to them--and yet you are so obstinate in some ways. I suppose it’s no good telling you to stand up for yourself, though. You seem born to cling. Colin was your prop for a long time, and you let him drag you out to India to marry Ferrers, whom you didn’t want, and he very nearly succeeded. I suppose I’m the support just at present, until Major Keeling comes to the front. He will be a good stout prop, at any rate. I couldn’t stand his domineering ways, but I suppose you like them.”