Jim was here, there, and everywhere, helping to buy horses for the coming wastage, for if he had no head for business he certainly knew horses from tail to muzzle, from hoof to shoulder, and all in between. He was kept hard at work till the call came for the cavalry, and then every minute of every day was over-full, and his head spun with the calls upon his forethought and ingenuity. He made long lists of the things he had to see to, on scraps of paper with a pencil that was always blunt and often missing, and as each item was attended to he duly scored it off, and so kept fairly straight. His men had taken to him, and consulted him now as an oracle, and within his capacity he enjoyed it all immensely. Lord Deseret's munificence knew no bounds. In addition to a great brown charger, whose peculiar delights were military music and the roar of artillery--the first of which enjoyments the campaign was unfortunately to offer him few opportunities of indulging in, though he had his fill of the other--his lordship presented Jim with a pair of unusually fine silver mounted revolvers, of a calibre calculated to make short work of the biggest Russian born, and one of these he was to hand over to Jack as soon as they met out East. And for Jim himself, as a very special mark of his goodwill, he bought a sword, selected out of many and suiting his grip and reach as if it had been made for him. "A most gentlemanly weapon," said the old man, as he poised it with knowledge in his thin white hands. "May it help you to carve your way to much honour! But war is not a gentlemanly business nowadays. That other brutal little thing will probably serve you better." And so we come to the very last night. The 8th were to leave at six the next morning for Southampton, and Jim was making his way back to his quarters, dead tired, but vaguely hopeful that he had failed in none of the multifarious calls on these last short hours. His list had been an unusually long one that day. But he had ploughed doggedly through it, and reduced it item by item, till it was cleared off. After his actual military duties had come final letters to Gracie and Mr. Eager and his grandfather--he might never see any of them again. All the same he wrote in the best of spirits, though in grievous regret at not being able to run down and say good-bye. Then he had made a round of farewell calls among the friends he had made in London, and had even made time to drop in on Mme Beteta for a cup of tea. He had finished up with a quiet dinner with Lord Deseret in Park Lane, and now, in the spirit, England lay behind him, and his compass pointed due east. Out of the depths of his very large experience, Lord Deseret had given him many a useful hint and much wise advice over their cigars and coffee, and had finally shaken his hand and bidden him "God-speed!" with more emotion than Jim had believed it possible for that calm white face to show.