The two men went out into the porch.
Ralston's horse was waiting, with a scarlet-clad syce at its head.
Ralston walked on down the steps and took a step or two along the drive.
Futteh Ali Shah lagged behind.
"Your Excellency is forgetting your horse." "No," said Ralston.

"The horse can follow.

Let us walk a little.

It is a good thing to walk." It was nine o'clock in the morning, and the weather was getting hot.

And it is said that the heat of Peshawur is beyond the heat of any other city from the hills to Cape Comorin.