"Delightful," agreed Olive. "I shall be very sorry to have to say good-bye to Pangawani." The girl's whole-hearted admiration gave Mostyn the looked-for opening. With sailor-like alertness he seized the opportunity. "Then why leave Pangawani?" he asked. Olive looked at him wonderingly. "What do you mean, Peter?" she asked. "When do you think you will be going home?" "In two years time, I hope," he replied. "But that depends upon you." "Upon me?" rejoined the girl, a faint colour stealing across her half-averted face, as she suddenly realized the point of her companion's remarks. "Well, you see," explained Mostyn, "I've been offered a Government post out here--a jolly good one. I couldn't accept it because I hadn't spoken to you about it. We agreed, I think, that I should be your guardian--'guardian' is a rotten term, isn't it?--until I saw you safely home." "Don't, please, let that stand in your way," said Olive. "It will," declared Peter, "unless----" * * * * * Five minutes or so later Davis exclaimed to his wife: "Hello! Where are the others?" "I don't know," was the reply. "I quite thought they were following. Trot back and see; I'll wait here." Another five minutes and Davis rejoined his wife. Deliberately he dismounted, charged a pipe, and lit it. "There's no hurry," he reported. "They're quite all right. I saw from a distance that I was _de trop_, so I beat a strategic retreat." Davis finished his pipe, filled up and lit another. At length the sound of the now walking ponies' hoofs upon the soft ground announced the arrival of the laggards. Then into the glade rode Peter and Olive, both looking radiantly happy. "Congratulate me, old man!" said Peter excitedly He did not need to explain. Davis rammed his still-burning pipe into his pocket--he had good cause to remember it later--and extended a sun-burnt hand. "You lucky dog!" he exclaimed. End of Project Gutenberg's The Wireless Officer, by Percy F. Westerman