Our guest’s countenance brightened, and Pyecroft perceived it.
"Let me tell you," he said earnestly, "it won’t make any difference to you whatever happens. Barrin’ a dhow or two Tajurrah-way, prizes are scarce in the Navy. Hence we never abandon ’em."
There was a long silence. Pyecroft broke it suddenly.
"Robert," he said, "have you a mother?"
"Yes."
"Have you a big brother?"
"Yes."
"An’ a little sister?"
"Yes."
"Robert. Does your mamma keep a dog?"
"Yes. Why?"
"All right, Robert. I won’t forget it."
I looked for an explanation.
"I saw his cabinet photograph in full uniform on the mantelpiece o’ that cottage before faithful Fido turned up," Pyecroft whispered. "Ain’t you glad it’s all in the family somehow?"
We filled with water at a cottage on the edge of St. Leonard’s Forest, and, despite our increasing leakage, made shift to climb the ridge above Instead Wick. Knowing the car as I did, I felt sure that final collapse would not be long delayed. My sole concern was to run our guest well into the wilderness before that came.
On the roof of the world—a naked plateau clothed with young heather—she retired from active life in floods of tears. Her feed-water-
