The orange light of the morning was breaking over the jungle when two horsemen rode out upon the Kurrumpore road and halted between the rice fields.
"I say, come on a bit further!" Tommy urged. "There's plenty of time."
But the other shook his head. "No, I can't. I promised Barnes to be back early. Good-bye, Tommy my lad! Keep your end up!"
"I will," Tommy promised, and thrust out a hand. "And you'll hang on, won't you? Promise!"
"All right; for the present. My love to Bernard." Everard spoke with his usual brevity, but his handclasp was remembered by Tommy for a very long time after.
"And to Stella?" he said, pushing his horse a little nearer till it muzzled against its fellow.
Everard's eyes, grave and dark, looked out to the low horizon. "I think not," he said. "She has—no further use for it."
"She will have," said Tommy quickly.
But Everard passed the matter by in silence. "You must be getting on," he said, and relaxed his grip. "Good-bye, old chap! You've done me good, if that is any consolation to you."
"Oh, man!" said Tommy, and coloured like a girl. "Not—not really!"