The little party went on to the creek and built a tiny house of reeds and boughs, in which Hillyard sat down to wait for the deer to gather.

He had one of the green volumes of "The Vicomte de Bragelonne" in his pocket, but this morning the splendid Four for once did not enchain him.

Who was it in London who wanted him--wanted him so much that cipher telegrams must find him out on the banks of the Dinder River?
Was this letter the summons to the something more and something different?
Was the postman to Abyssinia the expected messenger?
The miracle of that morning predisposed him to think so.
He sat thus for an hour, and then stepping daintily, with timid eyes alert, a tall reed-buck and his doe came through the glade towards the water.

But they did not drink; they waited, cropping the grass.
Gradually, through a long hour, others gathered, tawny and yellow, and dappled-brown, and stood and fed until--perhaps a signal was given, perhaps a known moment had come--all like soldiers at a command, moved down to the water's edge.
Six nights later Hillyard camped at Lueisa, near to that big tree under which it is not wise to spread your bed.

He took his bath at ten o'clock at night under the moon, and the water from the river was hot.