I'm lucky to be writing to you
at all. If the Saadat was an old-fashioned overlord, I shouldn't be
here. I got into a bad corner three days ago with a dozen Arabs--
I'd been doing a little work with a friendly tribe all on my own,
and I almost got caught by this loose lot of fanatics. I shot
three, and galloped for it. I knew the way through the mines
outside, and just escaped by the skin of my teeth. Did the Saadat,
as a matter of discipline, have me shot for cowardice? Cousin
Hylda, my heart was in my mouth as I heard them yelling behind me--
and I never enjoyed a dinner so much in my life. Would the Saadat
have run from them? Say, he'd have stayed and saved his life too.
Well, give my love to the girls!
Your affectionate cousin,
Tom LACEY.
P.S.-There's no use writing to me. The letter service is bad. Send
a few thousand men by military parcel-post, prepaid, with some red
seals--majors and colonels from Aldershot will do. They'll give the
step to the Gyppies. T.
Hylda closed her eyes. A fever had passed from her veins. Here lay her
duty before her--the redemption of the pledge she had made. Whatever her
own sorrow, there was work before her; a supreme effort must be made for
another. Even now it might be too late. She must have strength for what
she meant to do.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42