the passing to another birth, and, without love, birth cannot be.

It was not of the latter that Hector was thinking now, but of that something within him, revealed that afternoon—though but in a paltry game. He knew now, ignore it though he might, that he was not quite as others were, that his was that strange gift of nature—will-power, personal magnetism, call it what you please—the possession of which marks the difference between those who lead and the herd which follows. And as he stood there, with the majesty of sleeping mountain and plumed forest around him, their greatness spoke to that something within him, reproaching it, and at its voice the curious restlessness and discontent born of the afternoon's awakening swelled to a flood of bitter self-contempt. How great was all this, and how very small he and his present aims. Vague longings came over him, a desire for the unattainable, for that it surely was. He, a married man, whose course of life was chosen—a life devoted to games and sport.

For a moment the idea of studying his profession came to him, but at the thought his mind instantly revolted. The rôle of smart soldier had no charms for Graeme; that he knew required a different nature from his, an unimaginative, methodical character, one content to follow the path dictated, not to proceed to the goal by short cuts, as he had done, and always would do, to the annoyance of his military superiors. No, he would leave that to such as Ferrers and Rocket, both reckoned promising candidates for advancement, the former being Adjutant of his regiment, the latter Brigade-Major to the Inspector-General of Cavalry. They were and always would be followers; as for him, he would be leader or nothing.

Well, perhaps his chance would be given him; it always was. Even now there were rumours of trouble on the frontier, and he might be sent. He would be, he would move heaven and earth, and then... "Damn, why the devil can't they leave me alone? Who is it? Oh, you. Lucy, do you want me?"

"Yes; what an unsociable person you are to rush away like this, everybody's gone home. Oh, what a lovely night; look at that moon; it reminds me of board ship. Do you remember?"

"Ship, what ship? Oh yes, of course, exactly like. The crowd too about the same in intelligence as that lot in there."

"Why do you sneer at them, Hector, what's the matter with you this evening?"

"Oh, nothing, only I'm sick to death of this chatter of polo. Hang it, to hear them talk one would think Ferrers had won the V.C. instead of scoring a miserable goal in a match."

"Surely, Hector, it's a little small to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous, Lucy, and what seems to me small is this raving about a mere game. Hang it, there are other things in life besides polo."

Lucy was silent. Accustomed as she was to her husband's frequent changes, this was a little too sudden and unaccountable. She endeavoured to fall in with his mood, however.

"Perhaps you're right, Hector, though I don't think you're quite fair. You know, I've often wished you to take a more serious view of things, your profession, for instance, but you've always snubbed me when I began."

"Bah, my profession."

"Well, why not, surely it's a good enough one for any man? And I believe, Hector, I really do, that you could be as good a soldier as any of them if you worked, perhaps even be adjutant after Mr. Ferrers, and in time command the regiment. Oh, I should love you to command the regiment."

"And after that, Lucy?"

"Oh well, that's as high as I go. I think I should then like you to retire, and perhaps go into Parliament."

"Colonel Graeme, M.P., Lord, what dizzy heights, Lucy."

"Don't sneer, Hector, I mean it, but you'll have to work. I'll take you in hand myself when we return to Riwala. Till then you may play as much as you like. And now I've got some news for you. How would you like to shoot a bear?"

"Bear, where is he?"

"About twelve miles from here, I believe. A native's just come in to tell Sir Reginald, I don't think he much believes in the story, though; he says these Kashmiris are such liars it would be only waste of time going. Still, I think we might persuade him if you'd care for it."

"Rather, of course I would," said Hector, and perchance at the sudden return to mundane interests the great mountains and forests laughed, quietly derisive, for well they knew the resistless force of which they, like him, were but the phenomena, and how—make what plans and resolutions he may—man must dance when the master-hand chooses to pull the strings and call the tune, though till then he is seemingly free to act as he pleases. And so Hector was allowed to become his own confident self once more, and, feeling rather ashamed of his recent lapse from common sense, hurried off with Lucy to the coercion of his unwilling host.

"Oh, Sir Reginald," he said, entering the drawing-room, "my wife tells me there are bears about. Why not have a go at them to-morrow?"

"I hardly think it worth while, Graeme," said the Resident, "I don't suppose there's a bear near the place."

"Surely, the fellow wouldn't dare bring you false khubber?"[#] said Hector. "Why, I'd fine his village a hundred rupees if he did, were I the Resident."