to the station to meet captains very often; yet King climbed into
the dog-cart unexcitedly, after keeping the general waiting while
he checked a trunk!

The general cracked his whip without any other comment than a smile.
A blood mare tore sparks out of the macadam, and a dusty military
road began to ribbon out between the wheels. Sentries in unexpected
places announced themselves with a ring of shaken steel as their
rifles came to the "present," which courtesies the general noticed
with a raised whip. Then a fox-terrier resumed his chase of squirrels
between the planted shade-trees, and Peshawur became normal,
shimmering in light and heat reflected from the "Hills."

(The P.W.D. man, who would have giggled if a general mentioned him
by name, walked because no conveyance could be hired. judgment was
in the wind.)

On the dog-cart's high front seat, staring straight ahead of him
between the horse's ears, King listened. The general did nearly
all the talking.

"The North's the danger."

King grunted with the lids half-lowered over full dark eyes. He
did not look especially handsome in that attitude. Some men swear
he looks like a Roman, and others liken him to a gargoyle, all of
them choosing to ignore the smile that can transform his whole face
instantly.

"We're denuding India of troops--not keeping back more than a mere