The Great Amulet | Page 5

as he led "Modestina" away, and
tethered her to a pine stump. It needed small discernment to perceive
that the equitable poise of his character rested upon the noiseless
conviction that he was a man, and a gentleman: and it seemed to her
that she did well to feel proud of her husband.
With which satisfying conviction she settled herself upon a slab of a

rock, whipped out the sketch-book, that hung permanently in a flat
leather bag at her waist, and plunged headlong into her picture. For in
her case, impression and expression were almost simultaneous: the
most distinctive quality of her work being the rapidity and certainty
with which she produced her effects.
Lenox, returning, extended his firmly-knit length of figure on the
sloping ground near by, and flung aside his cap; thus revealing more
clearly the rugged contour of his head, and the black hair whose
obstinate ripple no amount of brushing could subdue. With leisurely
deliberation he filled his pipe, and surrendered himself to the
enchantment of the hour, before it slipped from him into the region of
accomplished things. And it is this very evanescence, this rainbow
quality of our hill-top moments, that adds such poignant intensity to
their charm.
Much of their brief courtship had been spent in such wordless
companionship: the man smoking beside her, with, or without, a book,
while she worked; and he never wearied of watching that abiding
miracle, a picture springing to life under an artist's fingers.
"You're not likely to give up this sort of thing, I suppose?" he asked
suddenly; and she turned upon him with blank astonishment in her
eyes.
"Give it up? . . . You might as well ask if I shall ever give up seeing, or
hearing, or feeling. It is a part of me. You don't want me to give it up,
do you?"
"Far from it. I was merely thinking that it seems suicidal for an artist of
your quality to bury herself alive in a little Frontier station, on the edge
of a desert, more than a hundred miles from anywhere."
"Rubbish! It simply means a new range of subjects for my brush. Tell
me a little about it, please. I like to try and picture things in advance;
and I am lamentably ignorant about this remarkable Frontier Force, to
which I now have the honour to belong. Are we all on the wrong side
of the Indus, always?"

"Yes, for ever and ever; except when we get away on leave."
"And then we go camping and climbing in the far hills beyond Kashmir,
don't we?"
"Yes, invariably! For the rest of the time we keep 'cave' along six
hundred miles of heart-breaking Border country."
"In other words, you are watch-dogs guarding the gates of an Empire?"
"That sounds far more imposing; and it's no less true. We are also
actively engaged in helping the Indian Government to cultivate friendly
relations with the tribes at the point of the bayonet!"
"And don't the tribes respond?"
"Yes, vigorously, to the tune of bullets and cold steel; so that we
manage to keep things pretty lively between us! Since we annexed the
Frontier, nearly forty years ago, the Piffers have taken part in more than
thirty Border expeditions, all told, to say nothing of the Afghan War."
Quita's attention had been diverted from her picture to her husband's
face.
"You get your fill of fighting at that rate," she said, "And I think you
must be rather magnificent when you are fighting, Eldred."
Lenox shrugged his shoulders, and laughed.
"I'm a keen soldier, if that's what you're driving at: and I believe the
world holds no finer school for character than constant active service."
"I confess I never thought of looking at war in that light! But I can well
believe it, if its horrors and hardships turn out many men . . . like you."
Words and tone set the man's pulses in commotion. But he clenched his
teeth upon his pipe-stem, and ignored the personal allusion.
"Well, you can see for yourself, when you get there. Taking 'em all

round, I think you'll find the Piffers as fine a set of fellows as you could
wish to meet anywhere; and it's hard work, and hard conditions of life,
that thrash them into shape."
"And the stations, where I am to be 'buried alive' in such good
company?"
"I'm afraid the stations are the least satisfactory part of the programme.
There are five of them along our north-west strip of desert; all more or
less hopeless to get at. We play general post among them every two or
three years, to avoid stagnation and keep the men fit. Just now my
battery's quartered at Dera Ghazee Khan, a God-forsaken place, right
down by Scindh.