Averil extricated her with many laughing apologies, and, by the time Mrs. Raymond had recovered her equilibrium, the younger girl had lost her expression of astonishment and was looking as bright and eager as her sister could desire.

“Only Dick is such a madcap,” she said.  “How shall we keep him from getting up to mischief in No Man’s Land precisely as I have done?”

Mrs. Raymond opined that Averil ought by then to have discovered the secret of managing the young man, and they went to tiffin on the veranda in excellent spirits.

Dr. Seddon was there and young Steele, one of Raymond’s subalterns.  Averil found herself next to the doctor, who, rather to her surprise, forebore to twit her with her early morning adventure.  He was, in fact, very grave, and she wondered why.

Steele, strolling by her side in the shady compound, by and bye volunteered information.

“Poor old Seddon is in a mortal funk,” he said, “which accounts for his wretched appetite.  He has been wasting steadily ever since Carlyon went away.  He thinks Carlyon is the only fellow capable of taking care of him.  No one else is monster enough.”

“Is Colonel Carlyon expected out here?” Averil asked, in a casual tone.

One of Steele’s eyelids contracted a little as if it wanted to wink.  He answered her in a low voice:  “Carlyon is never expected before his arrival, Miss Eversley.”

“No?” said Averil indifferently.  “And, why, please do you call him a monster?”

Steele laughed a little.  “Didn’t you know?” he said.  “Why, he is the King of Evil in these parts!”

Averil felt her face slowly flushing.  “I don’t understand,” she said.

“Don’t you?” said Steele.  “Honestly now?”

The flush heightened.  “Of course I don’t,” she said.  “Otherwise why should I tell you so?”

“Pardon!” said Steele, unabashed.  “Well, then, you must know that we are all frightened of Carlyon of the Frontier.  We hate him badly, but he has the whip-hand of us, and so we have to do the tame trot for him.  Over there”—­he jerked his head towards the mountains—­“they would lie down in a row miles long and let him walk over their necks.  And not a single blackguard among them would dare to stab upwards, because Carlyon is immortal, as everyone knows, and it wouldn’t be worth the blackguard’s while to survive the deed.

“They don’t call him Carlyon in the mountains, but it’s the same man, for all that.  He is a prophet, a deity, among them.  They believe in him blindly as a special messenger from Heaven.  And he plays with them, barters them, betrays them, every single day he spends among them.  He is strong, he is unscrupulous, he is merciless.  He respects no friendship.  He keeps no oath.  He betrays, he tortures, he slays.  Even we, the enlightened race, shrink from him as if he were the very fiend incarnate.