Whether it brought him nearer in any sense to Lenore de Warrenne, it brought him nearer to her son, on one of those hundred-mile circular “scours” which he practised when opportunity offered, generally accompanied by a like-minded officer of the R.A.M.C., to which Corps he had become a kind of unofficial and honorary instructor in “First-Aid Flying” at the Kot Ghazi flying-school, situate in the plains at the foot of the “Roof of the World”.

“Hullo!” said Colonel John Decies to himself—­“vultures!  I suppose they might be referred to in my manual as a likely guide to the wounded.  Good idea.  ’The flying casualty-scout should always take note of the conduct of vultures, noting the direction of flight if any are seen dropping to earth.  These birds may prove invaluable guides.  A collection of them on the ground may indicate a wounded man who may be alive.’ ...”

The Colonel was thinking of his magnum opus, “The Aeroplane and the Surgeon, in War,” wherewith he lived laborious days at Bimariabad in the intervals of testing, developing, and demonstrating his theories at Kot Ghazi.

Turning his head, he shouted to Surgeon-Captain Digby-Soames, R.A.M.C., his passenger and pupil:—­

“Vultures on the left-front or starboard bow.  ’Invariable battle-field sign of wounded man.  Note spot if unable to land and rescue.  Call up stretcher-party by signal—­Vide page 100 of Decies’ great work,’ what?”

“By Jove, it is a wounded man,” replied Captain Digby-Soames, who was using field-glasses.  “Damned if it isn’t a Sahib, too!  Out shikarring and sprained his ankle, I suppose.  Dead, I’m afraid.  Poor devil!”

“Vultures aren’t at work, anyhow,” commented Colonel Decies.  “Can’t land anywhere hereabouts, and I’m afraid ’calling up the stretcher party’ isn’t in the game here.”

“Nothing nearer than Kot Ghazi and that’s a good thirty miles,” replied Captain Digby-Soames as the aeroplane hovered and slowly sank.

“Let’s see all we can and then find the nearest landing-place.  Search all round for any sign of a tent or encampment.  There may be a dak-bungalow somewhere down in the plains, too.  The river-bed down on the right there, marks the border.”

Captain Digby-Soames “scoured” earnestly with his glasses.

“Camel on the port-bow, at the foot of the hills,” he announced.  “What may be a dak-bungalow several miles away ... a white square dot, anyhow ...  Camel saddled up, kneeling ...  His, no doubt.  Wonder where his shikarri is—­”

As the aeroplane approached, the disappointed vultures departed, misliking the size, shape and sounds of the strange fowl.  As it passed over him, and the Major shouted, Dam opened his eyes.

This must be pretty well the end—­when he heard the voice of some one he knew well, and saw a flying-machine just above him.  He would see blocks of ice and cascades of cold water in a moment, doubtless, and hear Lucille calling.