They dined outside in spite of the threatening dust-storm, in duck trousers and soft cotton shirts. The veriest fanatic of stiff linen yielded to the spirit of June in Raunga. Ice mitigated their sufferings, and a silent man stood behind each chair swinging a fan on a long stick. The cook gave

them of his best-three dishes from the stringy goat of the dhâk jungle, relieved by dainties out of tins. And they talked of many things-golf hotels, home cricket, oorial shooting in the Salt Range, the nature of the camel, transport in in Somaliland where Cartwright had been in command of an M.I. corps; and all the while Hallowes was thinking of the sandhill and Gale. Cartwright had met him on his last tour, but all Hallowes could discover from him was that Gale was a "good sort," and he believed he was engaged to a girl at home.

"That would explain the side-saddle," Hallowes said. "Do you know who she was ?" "No, I believe she lived in Norfolk somewhere. He told me he was going there first." Cartwright made an unsuccessful jab with his knife at his goat-steak and added, "He seemed glad to be going home."

Hallowes smiled. The inadequacy of it was dramatic. "It was rough on the girl, too."

Hallowes agreed. Evidently Cartwright could not help him. He talked camel shop for an hour before they turned in.

Hallowes slept in the garden,

or rather, he did not sleep. Nor did he really lie awake. His mind muddled through the night incoherently while his body made automaton - like movements in search of ease, hitching a pyjama leg up to the knee; turning a pillow over and quickly back again, for the side exposed was always hotter. Sprinkling water on his bed and throwing open his thin cotton coat until the hot wind chilled him-impossible as it may seem,—or rather part of him, for he felt a core of fire in a shell of ice. Dragging his bed to the thin shade of a kikar - tree to be out of the moonlight for a moment; tying a sheet to the mosquito-pole to keep off its light, only to remove it again because it was too close and stuffy. Lying on the hard earth, hoping that the softness of a bed might woo him to sleep afterwards.

In the early hours of the morning, as the moon was setting, he left the garden for his bed on the roof. There he lay, trying to woo sleep by thinking of clouds chasing one another under a blue sky over a wide expanse of water, but the clouds contracted into a small arc that framed a grey flint tower, and the water shrank into the little stream with the dark shadows under the alder-bushes and the submerged water-lily leaves swaying with the current under the ripple. He thought of an infinity of sheep passing through a gap in a hedge, one after another, and he tried to individualise them: one was short-necked, another murky

faced, a third stood in the gap and looked round with a pathetic eye, and he wondered where the trouble lay, and his mind was slipping away, wandering to the sandhill, when he fastened it with an effort on the sheep again. It was the only way. He saw an old ewe scrambling through the gap with a bramble in her fleece, a lamb following at her heels. But it was no good. They all came out into the pasture by the boat, among the burnished dock-leaves and the meadow-sweet and forget-me-not.

In the afternoon he had been only half conscious that what he had seen concerned Gale. As he lay awake he became sure of it. The first vision was objective, call it what you will, a projection, a modification of space. He had seen what another mind had seen, what perhaps it was now seeing -things in the air created by the awful yearning of a spirit torn from its strong frame.

The face haunted him,-he could not forget it. He knew he had never seen it, yet it was in some way a recollection and not of long ago. He thought it was in some picture he had seen, but where he could not remember. Suddenly a thought struck him. He lit a match and stumbled down the stairs from the roof, dropping sweat upon the hot stones of the floor.

He entered the room where Gale had slept and where they had brought him in; he opened a drawer under the lookingglass on the dressing - table. There, among a collection of old stores' catalogues, almanacs, and telegraph forms and loose sheets of paper he found three unmounted photographs of a group standing under trees. She was in one of them, calm, sweet, and peaceful,-a face to dream of always. Amongst the relics a sheet of paper caught his eye with something written at the top in Gale's handwriting. It must have been something he had been writing when he was interrupted, and had put away in the drawer to finish afterwards. It had no beginning or end.

It was towards the end of our summer in the Canadian Rockies and Selkirks that we first had the chance of a camping trip. It would have been a great disappointment to have left the mountains without adding this to our experiences, but it is almost impossible for three English girls to go off on an expedition of this kind by themselves.

We were staying at a primitive little hotel on the Arrow Lakes when we had the good fortune to make friends with some people named Chanton, living on the opposite side of the lake. They wanted to explore Mt. Baldie, a mountain of about 9000 feet, on their side, and invited us to join their party. A few days later we arrayed ourselves in our oldest clothes, very short skirts, loose blouses, and the most solid boots in our possession, and prepared to start. With us we took woollen sweaters, toothbrushes, a comb, a piece of soap, my camera, a small tripod, and finally a little flask of whisky, bitter experience in the Rockies having taught us that it is well to be prepared for accidents.

It was about eight o'clock one beautiful morning when we rowed across the lake, a distance of four miles, to join the Chantons. They were busy dividing up the provisions into different packs to be carried by some of the party. Our guide, who called himself

VOL. CXCIV.—NO. MCLXXIV.

Missouri, I believe because it was the name of his native state, seemed a most attractive person. He was very strong and handsome, always in the highest spirits, and we afterwards found him a splendid camp-fire entertainer. Miss Chanton and another girl had adopted a more professional mountaineering dress than we: instead of skirts, they wore heavy cloth knickers, worsted stockings, and nailed boots, while to complete their outfit they had men's soft felt hats to protect them from the blazing sun.

We had to take to the boats once more before making a real start, as there was a large creek between us and Mt. Baldie, and to walk round it meant many miles. When we had crossed this creek we tied up the boats and left them for our return. Then Missouri with his rifle and an enormous pack on his back led the way, and off we went uphill. At first it was fairly steep, but we had had constant practice in climbing for many weeks, and did not mind it at all. There were nine of us altogether, including one little girl about fourteen years old: she seemed to be rather small, but proved to be quite as untiring as any of us. It is almost impossible not to make friends when camping out, and with one exception we were 8 very united party. The one person who made herself a nuisance

was, I am sorry to say, another English girl. She had come out to Canada hoping to get a post of some kind, and in the meantime was staying with the Chantons. They found "Lyddie" a great trial, and had done their best to persuade her not to attempt the expedition. Even this first climb seemed too much for her, and every few minutes she would stop by the way, panting and wiping her streaming

face.

After a time the trail became very shady, and walking very easy in consequence. We had agreed to lunch at Trout Stream, where long ago there had been a camp, but when we got there we still felt so fresh that a rest seemed absurd, and we begged to go on and climb the long hill in front of us. No one objected except Lyddie, So we stirred her up, and a little later found ourselves at the top of this hill, quite ready to appreciate lunch. We were told to make the most of our meat sandwiches, for no meat beyond bacon would be available afterwards. We had about an hour's rest and started off again: this time we three girls took the lead, as the trail was very clearly marked. Missouri was not far behind, so that when in doubt we could call back to him. We were now on a long corduroy road- that is, one made of small logs laid across the road at even distances. At first it was very steep, and in places so wet that we had to scramble up the banks and push our way through the

tangle of bushes and undergrowth of all kinds, to avoid the water. It was here that we first made acquaintance with the "Devil's Club," a very strong plant four or five feet high, which looks most tempting to cling to in difficult places, but which is covered with dangerous thorns: these come off into one's hand and work their way into the flesh, sometimes so far that the woodsmen are forced to have their hands amputated.

It began to get very dark now, and it was evident that a storm was coming. We had planned to spend the first night in a miner's shack, from which we were still some distance, but now we all hurried on, hoping to reach shelter before the storm burst upon us.

We did not quite

manage it, and were still a good mile from the shack when we were overtaken by the rain, or rather hail. Enormous hailstones rattled round us, so that we were obliged to take refuge under some trees. This, however, was soon followed by huge thunder-claps and vivid lightning, and it was thought wiser to go on our way and put up with a good soaking. We stumbled on, getting wetter every moment, and great was our joy when at last we sighted a small clearing and the shack. Missouri forced open the door, and in we all went. It seemed very dark inside, as it was only lighted by two minute windows placed. very high up. As soon as we got used to the gloom we found that the shack con

sisted of one fairly large room with four broad wooden bunks at the end, two on each side, one above the other, very like berths on a steamer. In between these bunks was fixed a long narrow table with benches on two sides. The front part of the room was taken up with a large stove, this and a few wooden boxes which served as seats making up the entire furniture. The stove was soon lighted, and we all crowded round to get dry,-no easy matter, for pushing through the brush in that heavy shower had left us as wet as if we had walked into a bath. The only way of drying our boots was to put them in the oven, but this stiffened them so that it was hard work getting into them again. Missouri was very much in his element in the shack, he did everything so quickly and well. By the time we were fairly dry, enough wood was chopped to last us till the next day, and preparations were begun for tea. Plenty of food was found in the shack, which was often used by men working in the mines near by. Flour, bacon, beans, sugar, prunes, tea, and several tins of canned fruit we found left for any wanderers who might use the shack, and our party seemed to have no scruples about using these things, though I believe they left other provisions in return. We also found butter and eggs, but they had been waiting too long for the next comers, and had to be promptly removed: still, after all, butter is a mere luxury when you are camping,

and the fewer luxuries you have the prouder you feel of yourself.

Our help did not seem to be needed in getting our meal ready, so as it was too wet to go outside, the Chantons gave us a lesson in candy-making. Nancy and I had never seen pulling candy before, and found it most fascinating. The warm sticky substance is pulled out in strips of about a yard long, long, then folded, twisted, and pulled out again: this process may go on for an hour or more.

That our hands were not of the cleanest seemed to matter little; it does not do to be fussy when camping out, and so, later on, round the camp-fire, the candy was much appreciated. It seemed as if the evening meal would never be ready-not that Missouri was slow; he was above reproach in every way, but we were all so starved. Still, everything comes to those who wait, and at last we were all seated round the rickety table to enjoy as good a meal as the shack could provide. A large dish of hot bacon, a thing that usually Nancy and I hate, was passed round, and with it potatoes and a kind of tomato sauce, which had to take the place of butter; then we had tea and coffee, stewed prunes, and the last of the rolls which we had brought with There were plenty of enamel cups and plates, but knives and forks were very scarce, and had to do duty in many ways. The steel forks we found a great trial; I think we disliked them more than

us.