The House of the Falcon
"So you had a hand in this, my young rascal!" he accused.
Donovan smiled, without taking his eyes from Edith and her father.
"Not as much as you might think, Major," he said. "Remember, you said at Gilghit I was heading into trouble in the Hills. Well, what are you doing here yourself with an armed force on native soil?"
Fraser-Carnie looked guilty and muttered something about old ties, and all that sort of thing. "Besides, you see, Captain Donovan, I couldn't let that blooming American—confoundedly game, you know—come up here on his own, of course. Dashed if I could. Wouldn't have been a sporting thing, what?"
"I see." Donovan's eyes twinkled, although he spoke gravely. "I fancy I overstayed the leave given me to go into the Hills. I had to make a bargain with the tribes, and keep it"
The major nodded gravely, "An agreement, eh? Why didn't you 'fess up, that night at my bungalow? Can I help a bit?"
"Thanks, no. It's ended to-day. I'm free to leave, with Miss Rand, provided we don't reveal certain pet secrets of the tribes"
Whereupon Edith tripped up to them to demand whether the British army had lunch sufficient for three men and, oh, such a hungry girl. (And to bear Donovan off to her father, while Fraser-Carnie hastened to order up his emergency rations and detail a man from the troopers' mess to cook.)
Before sitting down to the lunch spread on white cloths by the brook, nothing would content the major but an observation patrol sent in the direction of the still smoldering tower. When his men reported noth-
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