There being no luggage there was nothing to excite passing curiosity, and we were not even envied by the officers condemned to dull routine work in the city.
Grim was all smiles now, as he always is when he can leave the alleged delights of civilization and meet life where he likes it--out of bounds.

He was still wearing his major's uniform, which made him look matter-of-fact and almost commonplace--one of a pattern, as they stamp all armies.

But have you seen a strong swimmer on his way to the beach--a man who feels himself already in the sea, so that his clothes are no more than a loose shell that he will cast off presently?
Don't you know how you see the man stripped already, as he feels himself?
So it was with Grim that morning.

Each time I looked away from him and glanced back it was a surprise to see the khaki uniform.
The country, that about a week ago had been carpeted with flowers from end to end, was all bone-dry already, and the naked hills stood sharp and shimmering in heat-haze; one minute you could see the edges of ribbed rock like glittering gray monsters' skeletons, and the next they were gone in the dazzle, or hidden behind a whirling cloud of dust.

Up there, three thousand feet above sea-level, there was still some sweetness in the air, but whenever we looked down through a gap in the range toward the Dead Sea Valley we could watch the oven-heat ascending like fumes above a bed of white-hot charcoal.
"Some season for a picnic!" Grim commented, as cheerfully as if we were riding to a wedding.