CHAPTER VIII.
AND THE RIFLE Thresk, alone in the tent, looked impatiently towards the grass-screen.
He wanted half-a-dozen words with Stella alone.

Here was the opportunity, the unhoped-for opportunity, and it was slipping away.

Through the open doorway of the tent he saw Ballantyne standing by a big fire and men moving quickly in obedience to his voice.

Then he heard the rustle of a dress in the corridor, and she was in the room.

He moved quickly towards her, but she held up her hand and stopped him.
"Oh, why did you come ?" she said, and the pallor of her face reproached him no less than the regret in her voice.
"I heard of you in Bombay," he replied.