* * * * *
After that Trevelyan spent all of his "off duty" time alone. He used to go on long tramps or wild rides, returning with his horse flecked with foam and himself worn out, and his evenings were passed in his own quarters with no one better than himself for company. He would walk up and down and down and up again until he turned in, or he would take to studying Hindoostanee, or sit idly, staring into nothingness. At first he fastened his door against possible intrusion, but no one ever came, and his solitude was unbroken. Once his strained ears caught the sound of Stewart's familiar step outside and he stealthily crept over to the door and unfastened it and stood by it listening. The even steady steps came nearer, and then without halting, passed on.
Trevelyan wiped his moist face. After all, why should Stewart have tried again? He had been refused so often—
Stewart pushed back his ponderous volume on military engineering and stared ahead of him, his firm lips pressed close together.
If there was only some way to help the boy—
III.
In the spring the natives grew restless.
"They're stretching themselves after a long sleep," said a young subaltern, knowingly.
"They're planning mutiny," said the Colonel to himself, and he ordered out a band of men for investigating the neighborhood.
The little band was delayed seven hours over the extremest limit set for its return.