So, chatting and at every step finding something fresh to like in each
other, they rode along down sandy lanes hemmed in by prickly aloe
hedges, by deep wells and creaking water-wheels where patient bullocks
toiled in the sun to draw up the gushing water to irrigate the green
fields so reposeful to the eye after the glaring desert. They passed by
thatched mud huts outside which naked brown babies sprawled in the dust
and deer-eyed women turned the hand-querns that ground the flour for
their household's evening meal. Stiff and sore though Wargrave was after
these many hours of his first day in the saddle for so long, he
thoroughly enjoyed his ride back with so attractive a companion.

When they reached the Residency, a fine, airy building of white stone
standing in large, well-kept grounds, he felt quite reluctant to part
with her. But, declining her invitation to enter, he renewed his promise
to call on the following day and rode on to his bungalow.

When he was alone he realised for the first time the effects of fatigue,
thirst and the broiling heat of the afternoon sun. But Mrs. Norton was
more in his thoughts than the exciting events of the day as he trotted
painfully on towards his bungalow.

The house was closely shut and shuttered against the outside heat, and
Raymond was asleep, enjoying a welcome _siesta_ after the early start
and hard exercise. Wargrave entered his own bare and comfortless
bedroom, and with the help of his "boy"--as Indian body-servants are
termed--proceeded to undress. Then, attired in a big towel and slippers,
he passed into the small, stone-paved apartment dignified with the title
of bathroom which opened off his bedroom.

After his ablutions Wargrave lay down on his bed and slept for an hour