He rose, and, the others following his example, the party departed to their different quarters to dress.
Meanwhile Hector was walking rapidly away from the Mess on his way to Carson's bungalow. At the compound entrance he paused, and for a moment stood leaning against the gate, as if reflecting; then once more moved on, and, entering the house, came upon Peter engaged in the sorting of fishing-tackle.
"Hullo, Graeme," he said, "you're just the man I want. Help me to straighten this out, will you? it's kinked like blazes," whereupon, without answering, Hector sat down on the bed, and, taking up one end of the line, proceeded to disentangle it.
"Hands very shaky this morning, Graeme," said Carson. "Why the dickens don't you give up those infernal cigarettes and take to an honest pipe, like me? You look pretty seedy too; what's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing, want of exercise, I suppose. Think I'll go for a ride this afternoon."
"Can't. The regiment's At Home, and we've got to be there. Pity you didn't enter one of your ponies for the Cup, as I wanted you to; you'd have had your ride then."
"I wish I had now, I'd give something for a mount. I envy you old Cyclops, even."
"Cyclops is not going."
"And why not?"
"Because I don't want to break my neck, that's why."