“Excuse me, sir, but you have the advantage of me,” said the officer. “I knew a Colonel Cochrane Cochrane, but you are not the man. He was three inches taller than you, with black hair and--” “That’s all right,” cried the Colonel testily. “You try a few days with the Dervishes, and see if your friends will recognise you!” “Good God, Cochrane, is it really you? I could not have believed it. Great Scott, what you must have been through! I’ve heard before of fellows going grey in a night, but, by Jove--” “Quite so,” said the Colonel, flushing. “Allow me to hint to you, Archer, that if you could get some food and drink for these ladies, instead of discussing my personal appearance, it would be much more practical.” “That’s all right,” said Captain Archer. “Your friend Stuart knows that you are here, and he is bringing some stuff round for you. Poor fare, ladies, but the best we have! You’re an old soldier, Cochrane. Get up on the rocks presently, and you’ll see a lovely sight. No time to stop, for we shall be in action again in five minutes. Anything I can do before I go?” “You haven’t got such a thing as a cigar?” asked the Colonel wistfully. Archer drew a thick satisfying partaga from his case, and handed it down, with half-a-dozen wax vestas. Then he cantered after his men, and the old soldier leaned back against the rock and drew in the fragrant smoke. It was then that his jangled nerves knew the full virtue of tobacco, the gentle anodyne which stays the failing strength and soothes the worrying brain. He watched the dim blue reek swirling up from him, and he felt the pleasant aromatic bite upon his palate, while a restful languor crept over his weary and harassed body. The three ladies sat together upon a flat rock. “Good land, what a sight you are, Sadie!” cried Miss Adams suddenly, and it was the first reappearance of her old self. “What _would_ your mother say if she saw you? Why, sakes alive, your hair is full of straw and your frock clean crazy!” “I guess we all want some setting to rights,” said Sadie, in a voice which was much more subdued than that of the Sadie of old. “Mrs. Belmont, you look just too perfectly sweet anyhow, but if you’ll allow me I’ll fix your dress for you.” But Mrs. Belmont’s eyes were far away, and she shook her head sadly as she gently put the girl’s hands aside. “I do not care how I look. I cannot think of it,” said she; “could _you_, if you had left the man you love behind you, as I have mine?” “I’m begin--beginning to think I have,” sobbed poor Sadie, and buried her hot face in Mrs. Belmont’s motherly bosom. CHAPTER X.