‘The sooner the better,’ said Scott; but at the same time he marked, with the pride of ownership, how this or that little Ramasawmy was putting on flesh like a bantam.  As the paddy carts were emptied he headed for Hawkins’s camp by the railway, timing his arrival to fit in with the dinner-hour, for it was long since he had eaten at a cloth.  He had no desire to make any dramatic entry, but an accident of the sunset ordered it that, when he had taken off his helmet to get the evening breeze, the low light should fall across his forehead, and he could not see what was before him; while one waiting at the tent door beheld, with new eyes, a young man, beautiful as Paris, a god in a halo of golden dust, walking slowly at the head of his flocks, while at his knee ran small naked Cupids.  But she laughed—­William, in a slate-coloured blouse, laughed consumedly till Scott, putting the best face he could upon the matter, halted his armies and bade her admire the kindergarten.  It was an unseemly sight, but the proprieties had been left ages ago, with the tea-party at Amritsar Station, fifteen hundred miles to the northward.

‘They are coming on nicely,’ said William.  ’We’ve only five-and-twenty here now.  The women are beginning to take them away again.’

‘Are you in charge of the babies, then?’

’Yes—­Mrs. Jim and I. We didn’t think of goats, though.  We’ve been trying condensed milk and water.’

‘Any losses?’

‘More than I care to think of,’ said William, with a shudder.  ’And you?’

Scott said nothing.  There had been many little burials along his route—­many mothers who had wept when they did not find again the children they had trusted to the care of the Government.

Then Hawkins came out carrying a razor, at which Scott looked hungrily, for he had a beard that he did not love.  And when they sat down to dinner in the tent he told his tale in few words, as it might have been an official report.  Mrs. Jim snuffled from time to time, and Jim bowed his head judicially; but William’s gray eyes were on the clean-shaven face, and it was to her that Scott seemed to speak.

‘Good for the Pauper Province!’ said William, her chin in her hand, as she leaned forward among the wine-glasses.  Her cheeks had fallen in, and the scar on her forehead was more prominent than ever, but the well-turned neck rose roundly as a column from the ruffle of the blouse which was the accepted evening-dress in camp.

‘It was awfully absurd at times,’ said Scott.  ’You see I didn’t know much about milking or babies.  They’ll chaff my head off, if the tale goes north.’

’Let ’em,’ said William, haughtily.  ’We’ve all done coolie-work since we came.  I know Jack has.’  This was to Hawkins’s address, and the big man smiled blandly.

‘Your brother’s a highly efficient officer, William,’ said he, and I’ve done him the honour of treating him as he deserves.  Remember, I write the confidential reports.’