Obviously the “problem’s” shikar-camel.  Apparently he was out without any shikarri, orderly, or servant—­a foolish thing to do when stalking in country in which a sprained ankle is more than a possibility, and a long-range bullet in the back a probability anywhere on that side of the border.

The aeroplane returned to earth and grounded near by.  Stopping the engine Colonel Decies climbed out and swung himself into the rear seat of the camel saddle.  Captain Digby-Soames sprang into the front one and the camel lurched to its feet, and was driven to the mouth of the gully which the Captain had noted as running up to the scene of the tragedy.

To and fro, in and out of the gully, winding, zig-zagging, often travelling a hundred yards to make a dozen, the sure-footed and well-trained beast made its way upward.

“Coming down will be joy,” observed the Colonel.  “I’d sooner be on a broken aeroplane in a cyclone.”

“Better hop off here, I should think,” said Captain Digby-Soames anon.  “We can lead him a good way yet, though.  Case of divided we stand, united we fall.  Let him fall by himself if he wants to,” and at the next reasonably level spot the camel was made to kneel, that his riders might descend.  Slithering down from a standing camel is not a sport to practise on a steep hillside, if indulged in at all.

Another winding, scrambling climb and the head of the nullah was reached.

“Have to get the beast kneeling when we climb down to him with the casualty,” opined the Colonel.  “Better get him down here, I think.  Doesn’t seem any decent place farther on,” and the camel was brought to an anchor and left to his own devices.

“By Jove, the poor beggar has come a purler,” said Captain Digby-Soames, as the two bent over the apparently unconscious man.

“Ever seen him at Kot Ghazi or Bimariabad?” inquired Colonel Decies.

“No,” said the Captain, “never seen him anywhere.  Why—­have you?”

“Certainly seen him somewhere—­trying to remember where.  I thought perhaps it might have been at the flying-school or at one of the messes.  Can’t place him at all, but I’ll swear I’ve met him.”

“Manoeuvres, perhaps,” suggested the other, “or ’board ship.”

“Extraordinary thing is that I feel I ought to know him well.  Something most familiar about the face.  I’m afraid it’s a bit too late to—­Broken ribs—­fractured thigh—­broken ankles—­broken arm—­perforated lungs—­not much good trying to get him down, I’m afraid.  He might linger for days, though, if we decided to stand by, up here.  A really first-class problem for solution—­we’re in luck,” mused Colonel Decies, making his rapid and skilful examination.  “Yes, we must get him down, of course—­after a bit of splinting.”

“And then the real ‘problem’ will commence, I suppose,” observed Captain Digby-Soames.  “You couldn’t put him into my seat and fly him to Kot Ghazi while I dossed down with the camel and waited for you to come for me.  And it wouldn’t do to camel him to that building which looks like a dak-bungalow.”