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 Advance Core
Python Programming

Begin your Journey to Master

the World of Python

Meenu Kohli

www.bpbonline.com
FIRST EDITION 2021

Copyright © BPB Publications, India

ISBN: 978-93-90684-06-9

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be

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 Dedicated to

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I dreamt an impossible dream; you gave me the wings to chase it,

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 About the Author

Meenu author of “Python Interview Questions” and “Basic Core

Python Programming” is presenting her next venture – “Advance
Core Python Programming”.

A BE (Electronics) from D.Y. Patil College of Engineering, Pune

University, she has worked extensively as a Software Developer,
Tester, and Trainer in reputed MNCs. She has experience of
working on challenging projects across varied development
environments such as Python, Java, EJB, C, C++, PHP, JSP,
JavaScript, HTML, .NET, R, MySQL, Oracle, DB2.

She is a keen observer and passionate learner. In addition to

software development, she is also a professionally trained software
tester and a certified Six Sigma Green Belt from the National
Institute of Industrial Engineering – Mumbai. She has experience
of teaching Electronics and Computer Science undergraduate
students and has also imparted her knowledge to several software-
development courses. She later diversified into writing technical
books primarily related to Python.
 About the Reviewers

Prateek Gupta is a Data Enthusiast who loves data-driven

technologies. Prateek has done his B.Tech in Computer Science &
Engineering. He is currently working as a Data Scientist in an IT
company. Prateek has 10 years of experience in the software
industry, and is currently, working in the Computer Vision area.
Prateek is also the author of the book “Practical Data Science
with Jupyter”, Edition, published by the BPB Publications.

Shayank Jain is a software developer, a data analyst, and an

Author. He is passionate about coding and architectural design.
He has more than 7.5+ years of professional experience in
developing scalable software solutions for various organizations.
He has been programming since the age of 16 and has developed
software for mobile, web, hardware gaming, and standalone
applications. After getting his hands dirty in programming, he
found many new ways to debug and deploy the code successfully,
with minimal time constraints. After reading and implementation,
he found out that many critical concepts can be implemented
easily into programming with correct and focused thinking. His
research interests include information security, cryptography,
analysis, design, and implementation of algorithms. He has
extensively worked with python and implemented new ideas on
various projects in his free time. He is also active in the
computer science and education community.
 Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my husband and my two lovely children,

Aananya and Ranbeer for all the help, support, and
encouragement, without which I would not have been able to
finish this book. When the lockdown was announced in early
2020, I thought my work would get affected, but my family
ensured that I continue to work as per my schedule and finish
the book on time.

Thank you to BPB for allowing me to write this book and thank
you for your support.
 Preface

There are several reasons why Python stands out from the other
programming languages. The fact that you are right now holding a
book on Advance level core Python Programming, indicates that
you are already aware of the features that make Python so special.

In this book, you will get detailed information on the advanced

topics related to Python programming. It starts with the chapter
on Functions. I would, therefore, like to suggest that kindly brush
up your knowledge on the Python Basic concepts before you start
with this book. If you are an absolute beginner, I would suggest
that you first read ‘Basic Core Python Programming’, which is also
a BPB publication, so that you can follow the topics given in this
book.

While working on this book, my main focus was on what is being

taught in the most leading universities and what is in demand. I
also focused on what problems the students and professionals
face while learning to programme. By interacting with other
programming enthusiasts, I realised that many people prefer self-
study as they are busy with several other commitments or just
cannot afford to join a course.

I have designed this book like a self-learning course, providing

detailed steps and breaking complex problems into simpler ones
that can be easily be coded and then put back together. I am
confident that with this book, you would be able to think, design,
and create your Python applications.
This book is divided into the following 14 chapters:

Chapter 1: Functions

Chapter 2: Classes, Objects, and inheritance

Chapter 3: Files

Chapter 4: MySQL for Python

Chapter 5: Python Threads

Chapter 6: Errors, Exceptions, Testing, and Debugging

Chapter 7: Data Visualization and Data Analysis

Chapter 8: Creating GUI Form and Adding Widgets

Chapter 9: My SQL and Python Graphical User Interface

Chapter 10: Stack, Queue, and Deque

Chapter 11: Linked Lists

Chapter 12: Trees

Chapter 13: Searching and Sorting

Chapter 14: Getting Started with Flask

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed working on it.

Happy reading and God bless!

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 Table of Contents

1. Functions and Recursion

Introduction
Structure
Objective
1.1 What are functions?
1.2 Creating Functions
1.2.1 Simple Functions
1.2.1.1 Definition of a function
1.2.1.2 Function Body
1.2.1.3 Calling a function
1.2.2 Defining functions that take parameter
1.3 Functional arguments
1.3.1 Positional arguments
1.3.2 Default arguments
1.3.3 Keyword arguments
1.3.4 *args
1.3.5 **kwargs
1.4 The return statement
1.5 Scopes and namespace
1.5.1.Built-in namespace
1.5.2 Global namespace
1.5.3 Local namespace
1.6 Lambda functions
1.7 Recursion
1.7.1 Finding factorial of a number using recursion
1.7.2 Algorithm for finding factorial using recursion
1.7.3 Types of recursion
1.7.4 Advantages and disadvantages of recursion
1.8 Memoization
Points to remember
Conclusion
Short questions and answers
Coding questions and answers
Descriptive questions and answers

2. Classes, Objects, and Inheritance

Introduction
Structure
Objective
2.1 Classes and objects
2.1.1 The Employee class
2.2 Destructor __del__()
2.3 Types of class variables
2.4 Inheritance
Points to remember
Conclusion
Multiple choice questions
Answers
Short questions and answers
Coding questions and answers
Descriptive questions and answers

3. Files
Introduction
Structure
Objective
3.1 Advantages of storing data in files
3.2 Directory and file management with Python
3.3 Retrieve the directory current working directory using getcwd()
3.4 Checking contents of Python directory using listdir()
3.5 Create directory using mkdir()
3.6 Renaming a directory using rename()
3.7 Remove a directory using rmdir()
3.8 Working with files
3.8.1 open() and close()
3.8.2 Access mode in file writing
3.8.3 Writing to a binary file using “wb” access mode
3.8.4 Reading the contents of a binary file using “rb” access mode
3.8.5 Write and read strings with binary files
3.8.6 Other operations on binary file
3.8.7 File Attributes
3.9 Various File related methods
Conclusion
Multiple choice questions
Answer
Short questions and answers
Coding questions and answers
Descriptive questions and answers

4. MySQL for Python

Introduction
Structure
Objectives
4.1 Installing and configuring MySql on your system
4.1.1 How to install MySQL

4.1.2 Configuration of MySQL

4.2 Creating a database in MySQL using the command line tool
4.2.1 Basic rules for writing SQL queries
4.3 Connect MySQL database to Python using MySQL connector
4.3.1 Create a database in Mysql using Python
4.3.2 Retrieve records from database using Python
4.4 Creating a database
4.4.1 Creating database directly using MySQL
4.4.2 Creating database using Python
4.5 Working with database using Python
4.5.1 Inserting records
4.5.2 Select records
4.5.2.1 Fetching all records from a table in Python using fetchall()
4.5.2.2 Fetching one record from a table in Python using fetchone()
4.5.3 Fetching selected records from a table in Python using the
‘WHERE’ clause151
4.5.4 Using ORDER BY clause
4.5.5 Deleting records using DELETE command
4.5.6 Update clause
Conclusion
Questions and answers

5. Python Threads
Introduction
Structure
Objectives
5.1 Processes and threads

5.1.1 Process
5.1.2 Threads
5.2 How to create a thread
5.2.1 Implementation of new thread using threading module
5.3 Thread synchronization with Lock and RLock
5.4 Applying lock
5.5 Deadlock
5.5.1 Using locked() function to check if a resource is locked
5.5.2 Resolving with RLOCK
5.6 Semaphore
5.7 Thread synchronization using an event object
5.8 Condition Class
5.9 Daemon and Non-DaemonThread
Conclusion
Questions and answers

6. Errors, Exceptions, Testing, and Debugging

Introduction
Structure
Objectives
6.1 What is an error?
6.1.1 Syntax Errors
6.1.2 Runtime error
6.1.3 Logical error
6.2 Exception
6.3 Errors with respect to Python
6.3.1 Try and Catch
6.3.2 Catching exception in general
6.3.3 Try … Except…else Statement
6.3.4 Try…Except…Finally…

6.3.5 Try and Finally

6.3.6 Raise an exception
6.4 How to debug a program?
6.5 ‘pdb’ debugger
6.6 Debugger at command line
6.7 Unit testing and test-driven development in Python
6.7.1 Why do we unit test?
6.7.2 Objectives of unit testing
6.8 Levels of testing
6.8.1 Unit testing
6.8.2 Integration testing
6.8.3 System-level testing
6.8.4 Performance testing
6.8.5 Unit testing in Python
6.8.6 Frequent errors encountered in Python programming
6.9 What is pytest?
6.10 The unittest module
6.11 Defining multiple test cases with unittest and pytest:
6.12 List of Assert methods available in the ‘unittest’ module.
Conclusion
Questions and answers

7. Data Visualization and Data Analysis

Introduction
Structure
Objectives
7.1 Introduction to Data Visualization
7.1.1 Why Data Visualization?
7.2 Matplotlib
7.2.1 Working with pyplot

7.2.2 Plotting a point

7.2.3 Plotting multiple points
7.2.4 Plotting a line
7.2.5 Labelling the x and y axis
7.3 numPy
7.3.1 Installing numpy
7.3.2 Shape of numpy Arrays
7.3.3 How to get value of elements from Array
7.3.4 Creating numpy arrays
7.4 pandas
7.4.1 Creating dataframe from an Excel sheet
7.4.2 Creating dataframe from .csv file
7.4.3 Creating Dataframe from Dictionary
7.4.4 Creating Data Frame from list of tuples
7.5 Operations on DataFrame
7.5.1 Retrieving rows and columns
7.5.2 Working with columns
7.5.3 Retrieving data from multiple columns
7.5.4 Retrieving data based on conditions
7.5.5 Index range
7.5.6 Reset index
7.5.7 Sorting data
Conclusion

8. Creating GUI Form and Adding Widgets

Introduction
Structure
Objectives
8. 1 Getting started
8.2 Introduction to widgets

8.2.1 Layout management

8.2.1.1 pack
8.2.1.2 Grid
8.2.1.3 Place
8.3 Working with buttons and Messagebox
8.3.1 Code for displaying a button
8.4 Canvas
8.4.1 Writing text on Canvas
8.5 Frame
8.6 Working with Labels
8.7 Mini Project - Stop Watch
8.8 List Box Widget
8.9 The Menu button and Menu
8.10 Radiobutton
8.11 Scrollbar and Sliders
8.12 Text
8.13 Spinbox
Points to remember
Questions and answers

9. MySQL and Python Graphical User Interface

Introduction
Structure
Objectives
9.1 MySQLdb Database
9.2 Creating a table using GUI
9.3 Insert data using GUI
9.4 Create a GUI to retrieve results
Activity
Conclusion

10. Stack, Queue, and Deque

Introduction
Structure
Objectives
10.1 Stack
10.1.1 Implementation of a stack in Python
10.2 Queue
10.2.1 Basic queue functions
10.2.2 Implementation of Queue
10.2.3 Implementation of a stack using single queue
10.2.4 Implementation of a queue using two stacks
10.3 Deque
10.3.1 Write a code to implement a deque

11. Linked List

Introduction
Structure
Objective
11.1 Introduction to Linked Lists
11.2 Implementation of Node class
11.2.1 Traversing through a linked list
11.2.2 How to add a node at the beginning of a linked list
11.2.3 How to add a Node at the end of a linked list
11.2.4 Inserting a node between two nodes in a linked list
11.2.5 Removing a node from a linked list
11.2.6 Printing the values of the node in the centre of a linked list
11.2.7 Implementation of doubly linked list
11.2.8 Reversing a linked list
Conclusion

12. Trees
Introduction
Structure
Objective
12.1 Introduction
12.2 Simple tree representation
12.3 Representing a tree as list of lists
12.3.1 Tree traversal methods
12.3.1.1 Preorder Traversal
12.3.1.2 In Order Traversal
12.3.1.3 Post Order Traversal
12.4 Binary Heap
Conclusion

13. Searching and Sorting

Introduction
Structure
Objective
13.1 Sequential search
13.2 Binary search
13.3 Hash Tables
13.4 Bubble sort
13.5 Implementation of selection sort
13.6 Insertion sort
13.7 Shell sort
13.8 Quick Sort
Conclusion

14. Getting Started with Flask

Introduction

Structure
Objective
14.1 Introduction
14.2 Installation of virtual environment
14.3 “Hello world” Application with Flask
14.4 Debugging a flask application
Conclusion
Appendix

Index
 CHAPTER 1

Functions and Recursion

Introduction

You have learnt about Python basics and Python data types and
control structure. In this chapter, you will learn how to create A
function is block of reusable code that is defined to carry out one
particular task. Once you understand the concept of function, you
will learn about scenarios where a problem can be solved by a
function making call to itself. This is known as
Structure

What are functions?

Creating functions

Simple functions

Definition of a function

Function body

Calling a function

Functional arguments

Positional arguments

Default arguments

Keyword arguments

*args

**kwargs
The return statement

Scopes and namespace

Built-in namespace

Global namespace

Local namespace

Lambda

Recursion

Finding factorial of a number using factorial

Algorithm for finding factorial using recursion

Types of recursion

Advantages and disadvantages of recursion

Memoization
Objective

After reading this chapter, you will be able to:

Create your own functions

Work with Lambda functions

Use recursion and memoization

1.1 What are functions?

In this chapter, you will learn about which is the core topic for
any object-oriented programming language. Functions form the
most important aspect of programming in Python. The time has
come to combine and use all the concepts you have learned in
previous volume of this book (Basic Core Python Programming) to
create reusable functions. Functions are organized blocks of
reusable code. Functions are important because:

They provide better readability and modularity*.

Functions help save time and effort in designing and executing

the code.

Functions reduces duplication of code.

They make code reusable.

They Make code easy to maintain.

With functions it becomes easier to understand how the code

works.

Functions help in information hiding.

Note: * The act of dividing a program or code into individual
independent modules is called modularity.

In Python programming, functions can be classified into two types:

Built-in functions

Built-in functions are functions that are provided by Python. They

are readily available. All the functions that we have worked with
till now are all built-in functions such as and so on.

User-defined functions

This chapter is actually all about user-defined functions. These

functions are not provided by Python, but are created by
programmers to perform a particular task.
1.2 Creating Functions

In the last section, you learnt about advantages of working with

functions. Functions make code reusable. If there is a block of
code that you need to execute, again and again, you can place
that block of code inside a function, and call that function
whenever you need to execute that specific task. There is a
software development practice by the acronym that stands for
Repeat Functions help in keeping the code This is opposite to
another coding acronym called which stands for Everything
1.2.1 Simple Functions

In this section, you will create your first function.

For creating a function, you will have to follow certain rules

regarding:

How to define a function

The function body

Calling a function
1.2.1.1 Definition of a function

The definition of a function starts with the keyword.

The def keyword is followed by the name of the function.

The name of the function is followed by parenthesis

After the parenthesis comes the colon : which marks the

beginning of the function’s block of code.

code. code.
1.2.1.2 Function Body

The block of code that comes after the function definition should
be indented one level to the right, which is four spaces as per
PEP-8. You have learnt about this while learning about Python
basics 2, Basic Core Python You have also implemented the same
rule while working with the if…else statement, and loops such as
the for and while loops.

loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops.

loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops.
loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops. loops.
loops. loops. loops. loops.
1.2.1.3 Calling a function

You can call the function anytime by its name followed by

parenthesis.

parenthesis.

The function does not execute as long it is called

Code:

Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code:
Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code:
Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code:
Code: Code:

You may recall that strings in triple quotes are used for multi-line
commenting, and if placed directly under the definition of the
function, module or class it acts as docstring. The multi-line
comment in triple quotes is highlighted in bold for your
understanding. It is not mandatory to use docstring but it can be
of great help in understanding complex functions as you will see
in a short while.
The function has only one print statement. There are some points,
which are not mandatory but are best practices to follow:

Use lowercase letters for function name, words can be separated

by underscore. Some also prefer to use camel case.

It is recommended to have a docstring as the first part of the

function. The docstring must emphasize on what the function
does, and not on how it does it.

Place the code after docstring.

The output of the code is as follows:

Output:

Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output:

Now, type the following command on the Python shell:

shell:

This command will give details about the structure of this

function.
function. function. function. function. function. function. function.
function. function. function. function. function. function. function.
function. function. function. function. function. function. function.
function. function. function. function. function. function. function.
function. function. function. function. function. function. function.
function. function. function. function. function. function. function.
function. function. function. function. function. function. function.
function.

To view the docstring, print the following command:

command: command: command: command: command: command:

command: command: command: command: command: command:
command: command: command: command: command: command:
command: command: command: command: command:
1.2.2 Defining functions that take parameter

The previous section defined a simple function. In this section, we

will modify the same function to take a parameter, that is the
name of a person, and print a personalized message (name along
with message).

message). message). message). message). message). message).

message). message). message). message). message). message).
message). message). message). message). message). message).
message). message). message). message). message). message).
message). message). message). message). message). message).
message). message). message). message). message).

Please notice the function definition, the parenthesis has a

parameter name. So, when you call you have to pass an argument
that can be passed on to the function.

The output of the preceding code is as follows:

follows: follows: follows: follows: follows: follows: follows: follows:

follows: follows:
To understand how the code works, it is important to first
understand the difference between a parameter, and an argument.

Figure 1.1

Parameters are variables local to function, and are part of

definition. Arguments are values that are passed on to the
function. So, name is the parameter of the function
hello_world_func() and is the argument that is passed on to the
function hello_world_func() when it is called. When the call is
made to the function, it maps the parameter with the argument
and uses that value for computation.

A function can have more than one parameter, and in that case
order in which arguments are passed matters. For example, look
at the following code:

code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code:
code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code:
code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code:

code: code: code: code: code: code: code:

The function hello_world_func() takes three parameters in the

following order name, age, and profession whereas the arguments
passed to the function are in the order: 32,'Architect',

As a result, the parameter name gets mapped to value 32, age

gets mapped to and profession gets mapped to So, when we
execute the code following output is generated:

generated: generated: generated: generated: generated: generated:

generated: generated: generated: generated: generated: generated:
generated: generated:

So, now let’s call the function hello_world_func() and pass the
arguments in the right order.

order.

Output:

Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output:

Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output:
Python programmers often use parameters and arguments
interchangeably as both are in a way quite similar but as a
Python developer, you must understand the difference between the
two. Parameters are declared in the function, and arguments are
the values passed to a function when it is called.
1.3 Functional arguments

There are five types of functional arguments in Python.

Positional arguments

Default arguments

Keyword arguments

*args

**kwargs
1.3.1 Positional arguments

All the examples that we have used till now are examples of
positional arguments, that is, arguments are assigned to the
parameters in the order in which they are passed or their
position.

position. position. position. position. position. position. position.

position. position. position. position. position. position. position.
position. position. position. position. position. position. position.
position. position. position. position. position. position. position.
position.

Output:

Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output:

Output: Output: Output: Output: Output:

The positional argument looks at the position of the parameter

where it will be assigned. So, the value of x gets mapped to and
value of y gets mapped to num2 and these values are passed on
to the function block code.

If you call a function with different number of parameters, an

error will be generated.
1.3.2 Default arguments

You have the option of specifying default value of a parameter in

the function definition. The positional argument for which a
default value is defined, becomes optional and therefore known as
default

Code:

Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code:
Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code: Code:

Output:

Output: Output: Output: Output: Output:

The function shown above can be called with one or two

arguments. If you omit the second argument, the function
definition will pass on its default value, which is 0.

Let’s take a look at another example.

In Python, a non-default argument cannot follow a default

argument.
argument. argument. argument. argument. argument.

The preceding function will throw an error because num3 which is

a non-default argument follows which is a default argument. So, if
you type the interpreter will not understand whether to assign 20
to num2 or continue with the default value. The complexity will
increase as the number of default arguments increase. In this
scenario you will recieve a Syntax Error: "non default argument
follow default argument". The correct way of using default
arguments is shown in the following code:

code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code:
code:

Output:

Output: Output: Output: Output:

1.3.3 Keyword arguments

Keyword arguments allow you to ignore the order in which the

parameters are entered in a function or even skip them when
calling a function.

The function with keyword arguments are defined the same way
as the function with positional arguments, but the difference is in
the way they are called. Have a look at the following code:

code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code:
code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code: code:
code: code: code: code:

Output:

Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output: Output:

Output: Output: Output:

As you can see, the arguments are not passed in the desired
order, but while passing the arguments, it is specified which
argument belongs to which parameter. Since the default value of
num2 is zero, even if it is skipped, it does not matter. We
wanted to use the default value of num2 therefore only the value
of num1 and num3 were specified. If that is not done, the output
will be incorrect. As you can see in the following code, the value
Discovering Diverse Content Through
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guilty to having watched his master give the money to Colonel
Stuart, who, being in a hurry, had placed it in an envelope-box on
the writing-table, whence Râmu, returning after dark, had taken it
"in a moment of forgetfulness" [the usual native excuse].

Here the Lâlâ interrupted the Court to say in a voice broken by

emotion that Râmu was a faithful servant, a very faithful servant
indeed.

So the jackal got eighteen months for the theft, and Shunker
drove down next morning to the jail on a visit of inspection and took
the opportunity of presenting one of the warders with five rupees.

The net result of the whole affair, from a monetary (that is to say
from John Raby's) point of view, being that Shunker gained three
thousand rupees, the Government six thousand and odd, while Philip
Marsden lost over nine, and he himself forfeited one. He did not
count other gains and losses; not even when a day or two after the
trial he stood, with Belle's hand in his, saying good-bye to her ere
she departed to the hills. The gharri waited with its pile of luggage
outside in the sunlight; poor Healy's Mary Ann, who was to
accompany her to Rajpore, was arranging the pillows and fussing
over the position of the ice-box which was to ensure comfort.

"I can't thank you," said the girl tearfully, her pretty eyes on his.
"I wish I could, but I can't."

"Perhaps you may,--some day," he replied vaguely, wishing it were

possible. "After all I did nothing; it was clear from the first that there
was a mistake."

"Some people did not see the clearness," she returned bitterly.
"So your kindness,--and--and confidence--were all the more
welcome. I shall never forget it."

Once more the young civilian was driven, by sheer keenness of

perception, to the position of an outsider who, seeing the game,
sees the odds also. "If I were you I'd forget all about it," he said,
more earnestly than was his wont. "It has been a bad dream from
beginning to end. When we all come back from the wars with a
paucity of limbs and a plethora of medals we can begin afresh. You
look surprised. The fact is I've just accepted a political berth with
one of the forces, and am off at once. I am glad; Faizapore will be
dull when you are gone."

"What a nice young gentleman a' be, miss," said poor Healy's
Mary Ann when he had seen them safely stowed away, and with a
plunge and a wild tootle of the coachman's horn they were dashing
out of the gate. "So cheerful like. He must a' suffered a deal 'imself
for to keep up 'is sperrits so in trouble. It's wonderful what one gets
used to."

"He has been very good to me,--and to father," replied Belle

softly.
 CHAPTER X.

A cold wind swept down the Peirâk valley, driving the last leaves
from the birch trees, which, filling the gully, crept some short way up
the steep ascent to the Pass, where the ridges of grey-blue slate
seemed almost a part of the staring blue sky against which they
showed like a serrated line of shadow. Nearer at hand the slopes of
withered bent were broken by sharp fang-like rocks gathering
themselves in the distance into immature peaks and passes. Here
and there a patch of dirty snow, having borne the burden and heat
of summer, lay awaiting a fresh robe of white at the hands of the
fast-coming winter. Already the round black tents of the pasture-
seeking tribes were in full retreat to the plains, and the valley lay still
and silent, without even the sweep of a hawk in its solitary circle, or
the bird-like whistle of a marmot sunning itself on the rocks. Ere
long the snow would wrap all in its soft white mantle, and the
bunting, paired with its own shadow, flicker over the glistening
drifts.

Notwithstanding the lateness of the season the Peirâk was not

utterly deserted. In a sheltered bit behind a cluster of rocks sat two
young men. One, despite the sheepskin coat and turban-wound
peaked cap of the Afghan, showed unmistakable signs of alien blood
in the steady gaze of a pair of brown eyes, and a white line of clean
skin where the fur collar met his neck. It was our old friend Dick
Smith, and he was on the watch for the last British regiment which
was to cross the Pass in order to strengthen the little garrison
beyond, before winter set her silver key upon the mountains. His
companion carried his nationality in his face, for even when Afzul
Khân had condescended to wear the uniform of a Sikh soldier no
one could have mistaken the evidence of his long, straight nose and
cruel, crafty expression, in which, however, lurked little hint of
sensuality.

"You are deeply interested in this particular regiment," remarked

Dick in fair Pushtu. "What's up, Afzul?"

"Nothing, Huzoor. A fool who called himself my relative took

service once with your Sirkar. Mayhap in this regiment--God knows!
It does not matter if it was."

The studied indifference made his hearer smile. "You are a queer
lot, you Pathans," he said lazily. "Not much family affection; not
much welcome for a long-lost brother, eh, Afzul?"

"The Presence should remember there are Pathans and Pathans.

He has not seen my people; they are not here." He spread a well-
shaped nervous hand emphatically east, west, and south.

"Tarred with the same brush north, I expect," muttered the

Englishman to himself.

Afzul Khân frowned. "These are my enemies," he went on. "But

for the Sirkar,--chk!" He gave a curious sound, half click, half gurgle,
and drew an illustrative finger across his throat. It was rather a
ghastly performance.

"Then why stop?"

Afzul Khân plucked at the withered bents carelessly. "Because--

because it suits this slave; because the merciful Presence is my
master; because I may as well wait here as anywhere else."

"What are you waiting for?"

He showed all his long white teeth in a grin. "Promotion, Huzoor.

It should come speedily, since but yesterday the sahib said I was
worth all the rest of the gang."

"I must be more careful. Where the dickens did you pick up
English, Afzul?"

"From you, Huzoor." A statement so irredeemably fictitious that it

made Dick thoughtful.

"You're sharp enough, Heaven knows; but I don't understand why

you wanted to learn signalling. Are you going to give up your jezail
and become a bâbu?"

Afzul Khân fingered the matchlock which lay beside him. "I have
changed my mind," he said shortly. "I will leave it to the Presence to
bring down fire from Heaven; I bring it from this flash-in-the-pan."

"Now what can you know about Prometheus?"

He shook his head. "The Presence speaks riddles. The fire comes
to some folk, to many of the sahibs--to you, perhaps. God knows!
The Pathans are different. Our work is fighting."

Dick, looking at his companion's sinewy strength, thought it not

unlikely. "While we are waiting, Afzul," he said idly, "tell me the
finest fight you ever were in. Don't be modest; out with it!"

"Wherefore not? Victory is Fate, and only women hang their

heads over success. The best fight, you say? 'Twas over yonder to
the north. There is a dip; but one way up and down. Twenty of us
Barakzais and they were fifteen; but they were ahead of us in count,
for, by Allah! their wives were so ugly that we didn't care to carry
them off."

"Why should you?"

"'Twas a feud. Once, God knows when, a Budakshân Nurzai

carried off one of ours and began it. If the women ran out, we killed
the men instead. So it was a moonlight night, and the fifteen were
fast asleep, snoring like hogs. By Allah! my heart beat as we crept
behind the rocks on our bellies, knowing that a rolling stone might
waken them. But God was good, and chk! they bled to death, like
the pigs they were, before their eyes were wide open."

Dick Smith stared incredulously. "You call that the best fight you
ever were in? I call it--" The epithet remained unspoken as he
started to his feet with a shout. "By George! I see the glitter. Yonder,
Afzul! by the turn. Hurrah! hurrah!"

He was off at long swinging strides, careless of the fact that the
Pathan never moved. The latter's keen eyes followed the lad with a
certain regret, and then turned to the straggling file of soldiers now
plainly visible.

"Marsden sahib with the advance guard," he muttered. "Why did I

give in to those cursed hawk's eyes when my bullet was all but in his
heart! Wah-illah! his bravery made me a coward, and now my life is
his. But I will return it, and then we shall cry quits. Yonder's the
subadâr. By God! my knife will be in his big belly ere long, and some
of those gibing Punjâbis shall jest no more."

So he watched them keenly with a fierce joy, while Dick tore

down the hill, to be brought, by an ominous rattle among the rifles
below, to a remembrance of his dress. Then he waited, hands down,
in the open, until the advance guard came within hail of his friendly
voice; when he received the whole regiment with open arms, as if
the Peirâk were his special property. Perhaps he had some right to
consider it so, seeing that he was the only Englishman who had ever
attempted to make those barren heights his head-quarters. But, as
he explained to Philip Marsden, while they climbed the narrow gully
hemmed in by perpendicular rocks which led to the summit, the
breaks in communication from storms and other causes had been so
constant, that he had cut himself adrift from head-quarters at
Jumwar in order to be on the spot, and so avoid the constant worry
of small expeditions with an escort; without which he was not
allowed to traverse the unsettled country on either side.

"Here I am safe enough," he said with a laugh; "and if I could

only get my assistant, a Bengali bâbu, to live at the other hut I have
built on the northern descent, we could defy all difficulties. But he is
in such a blind funk that if I go out he retires to bed and locks the
door. The only time he is happy is when a regiment is on the road."

"Then his happiness is doomed for this year,--unless you use

discretion and come on with us to Jumwar. I doubt your being safe
here much longer."

Dick shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps not, and of course I shall

have to cut and run before the snow; but I like the life, and it gives
me time. I've been at work on a field-instrument--" here his eyes lit
up, and his tongue ran away with him over insulators and circuits.

Major Marsden looked at the lad approvingly, thinking how

different he was from the slouching sullen boy of six months back.
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Dick," he said with a half-smile; "but
I've no doubt it will be very useful, if, as you say, it enables you to
tap the wires anywhere with speed and certainty."

Dick gave a fine blush. "I beg your pardon, but these things get
into my head. It will work though, I'm sure of it. I'd show you if it
was here, but I left it at the other shanty. There's a stretch of low
level line across the Pass where I was testing it."

The half-aggrieved eagerness in his voice made Philip smile. They

were sitting together under the lee of a rock on the summit while a
halt was called, in order to give time for the long caravan-like file,
encumbered by baggage ponies, to reach the top and so ensure an
unbroken line during the descent. For in these mountain marches
the least breach of continuity is almost certain to bring down on the
detached portion an attack from the robbers who are always on the
watch for such an opportunity.
 "You had best come with us, Dick," said Philip, returning to the
point after a pause.

"No! The fact is I want to be certain of the communication until

you are safe in Jumwar. Those two marches, between your next
camp and the city, are risky. I have my doubts of the people."

"Doubts shared by head-quarters apparently, for the chief got a

telegram yesterday to await orders at Jusraoli. I expect they are
going to send to meet us from Jumwar."

"I wish I'd known in time," replied Dick lightly; "in that case there
is not much reason for staying. Yet I don't know; I'd rather stick on
till I am forced to quit."

"That won't be long; the snow's due already, and you are coming
on with us so far in any case, aren't you?"

Dick sat idly chucking stones and watching them leap from point
to point of the cliffs below him. "I don't think I shall, if you are to be
in camp Jusraoli for some days. You see, my bâbu is no use, and
something might turn up. I'll see you across the Pass and come
back. I could join you later on if I made up my mind to cut." He lay
back with his arms under his head and looked up into the brilliant
blue cloudless sky. "Major," he said suddenly, after a pause, "do you
know that you have never asked after Belle?"

"Haven't I? The fact is I had news of her lately. Raby wrote to me

a few days ago."

"I wouldn't trust Raby if I were you. Did he tell you that Belle
hadn't a penny and was trying to be independent of charity by
teaching?"

"I am very sorry to hear it."

 Dick sat up with quite a scared look on his honest face. "I thought
there must be something wrong between you two by her letters," he
said in a low voice; "but I didn't think it was so bad as that. What is
it?"

"Really, my dear boy, I don't feel called upon to answer that

question."

"It's beastly impertinent, of course," allowed Dick; "but see here,

Major, you are the best friend I have, and she,--why, I love her more
dearly every day. So you see there must be a mistake."

The logic was doubtful, but the faith touched Philip's heart. "And
so you love her more than ever?" he asked evasively.

"Why not? I seem somehow nearer to her now, not so hopelessly

beneath her in every way. And I can help her a little by sending
money to Aunt Lucilla. She wouldn't take a penny, of course. But
they tell me that when my grandfather,--I mean my mother's father--
dies I might come in for a few rupees; so I have made my will
leaving anything in your charge for Belle. You don't mind, do you?"

Philip Marsden felt distinctly annoyed. Here was fate once again
meddling with his freedom. "I'm afraid I do. To begin with, I may be
lying with a bullet through me before the week's out."

"So may I. Look on it as my last request, Major. I'd sooner trust

you than any one in the wide world. You would be certain to do
what I would like."

"Should I? I'm not so sure of myself. Look here, Dick! I didn't

mean to tell you, but perhaps it is best to have it out, and be fair
and square. The fact is we are rivals." He laughed cynically at his
hearer's blank look of surprise. "Yes,--don't be downcast, my dear
fellow; you've a better chance than I have, any day, for she dislikes
me excessively; and upon my word, I believe I'm glad of it. Let's talk
of something more agreeable. Ah, there goes the bugle."
 He started to his feet, leaving Dick a prey to very mixed emotions,
looking out with shining eyes over the dim blue plains which rolled
up into the eastern sky. It must be a mistake, he felt. His hero was
too perfect for anything else; and she? Something seemed to rise in
his throat and choke him. So nothing further was said between them
till on the northern skirts of the hills they stood saying good-bye.
Then Dick with some solemnity put a blue official envelope into his
friend's hand. "It's the will, Major. I think it's all right; I got the bâbu
to witness it. And of course the--the other--doesn't make any
difference. You see I shall write and tell her it is all a mistake."

The older man as he returned the boyish clasp felt indescribably

mean. "Don't be in a hurry, Dick," he said slowly. "You can think it
over and give it me when you join us, for join us you must. I won't
take it till then, at all events. As for the other, as you call it, the
mistake would be to have it changed. Whatever happens she will
never get anything better than what you give her, Dick--never!--
never! Good-bye; take care of yourself."

As he watched the young fellow go swinging along the path with

his head up, he told himself that others beside Belle would be the
losers if anything happened to Dick Smith; who, for all the world had
cared, might at that moment have been lying dead-drunk in a
disreputable bazaar. "There is something," he thought sadly, "that
most men lose with the freshness of extreme youth. It has gone
from me hopelessly, and I am so much the worse for it." And Dick,
meanwhile, was telling himself with a pang at his heart that no girl,
Belle least of all, could fail in the end to see the faultlessness of his
hero.
 CHAPTER XI.

The sun had set ere Dick reached the narrowest part of the defile
where, even at midday, the shadows lay dark; and now, with the
clouds which had been creeping up from the eastward all the
afternoon obscuring the moon, it looked grim and threatening. He
was standing at an open turn, surprised at the warmth of the wind
that came hurrying down the gully, when the low whistling cry of the
marmot rang through the valley and died away among the rocks. A
second afterwards the whizz of a bullet, followed by the distant
crack of a rifle, made him drop in his tracks and seek the shelter of a
neighbouring boulder. Once again the marmot's cry arose, this time
comparatively close at hand. To answer it was the result of a
second's thought, and the silence which ensued convinced Dick that
he had done the right thing. But what was the next step? Whistling
was easy work, but how if he met some of these musical sentries
face to face? Perhaps it would be wiser to go back. He had almost
made up his mind to this course when the thought that these
robbers, for so he deemed them, might out of pure mischief have
tampered with his beloved wires came to turn the balance in favour
of going on. A disused path leading by a détour to the southern side
branched off about a mile further up; if he could reach that safely he
might manage to get home without much delay. Only a mile; he
would risk it. Creeping from his shelter cautiously he resumed his
way, adopting the easy lounging gait of the hill-people; rather a
difficult task with the inward knowledge that some one may be
taking deliberate aim at you from behind a rock. More than once, as
he went steadily onwards, the cry of a bird or beast rose out of the
twilight, prompting his instant reply. "If they would only crow like a
cock," he thought, with the idle triviality which so often accompanies
grave anxiety, "I could do that first-class."

Yet he was fain to pause and wipe the sweat from his face when
he found himself safely in the disused track, and knew by the silence
that he was beyond the line of sentries. A rough road lay before him,
but he traversed it rapidly, being anxious to get the worst of it over
before the lingering light deserted the peaks. As he stood on the
summit he was startled at the lurid look of the vast masses of cloud
which, rolling up to his very feet, obscured all view beyond. They
were in for a big storm, he thought, as he hurried down the slopes
at a break-neck pace; with all his haste barely reaching the shanty in
time, for a low growl of thunder greeted his arrival, and as he pulled
the latch a faint gleam of light showed him the empty room. He
called loudly; darkness and silence: again, as he struck a match;
light, but still silence. Quick as thought, Dick was at the signaller,
and the electric bell rang out incongruously. Tink-a-tink-a-tink was
echoed from the eastward. But westward? He waited breathlessly,
while not a sound returned to him. Communication was broken; the
wires had possibly been cut, and Dick stood up with a curiously
personal sense of injury. His wires tampered with out of sheer
mischief! Yet stay! Might it not be something more? Where the devil
had the bâbu hidden himself? After fruitless search an idea struck
him, and he signalled eastward once more. "Repeat your last
message, giving time at which sent." With ears attuned to tragedy
Dick awaited the reply. "6 P.M. To north side. 'Will send cocoa-nut oil
and curry stuff by next mail.'"

The echo of Dick's laughter, as he realised that but an hour or so

before the bâbu had been putting the telegraph to commissariat
uses, was the last human sound the shanty was to hear for many a
long day. For the next moment's thought roused a sudden fear. The
bâbu had doubtless gone over the Pass with the troops for the sake
of company; that was natural enough, but if he was still in the north
shanty awaiting Dick's return, why had he not answered the signal
sent westward? It could not be due to any break in the wire, unless
the damage had been done after dark, for he had been able to
telegraph eastward not so long ago. Was there more afoot than
mere mischief?

It was not a night for a dog to be out in, and as Dick stood at the
door he could see nothing but masses of cloud hurrying past, softly,
silently. Then suddenly a shudder of light zig-zagged hither and
thither, revealing only more cloud pierced by a few pinnacles of rock.

Not a night for a dog certainly; but for a man, with a man's work
before him? Belle would bid him go, he knew. A minute later he had
closed the door behind him, and faced the Pass again. Ere he
reached the end of the short ascent it was snowing gently; then,
with a furious blast, hailing in slanted torrents that glittered like
dew-drops in the almost ceaseless shiver of the silent lightning.
Everything was so silent, save for the wind which, caught and
twisted in the gullies, moaned as if in pain. Ah! was that the end of
all things? Round him, in him, through him, came a blaze of white
flame, making him stagger against the wall of rock and throw up his
hands as if to ward off the impalpable mist which held such a deadly
weapon. Half-blinded he went on, his mind full of one thought. If
that sort of thing came again, say when he was passing the snow-
bridge, could a man stand it without a start which must mean
instant death? The question left no room for anything save a vague
wonder till it was settled in the affirmative. Then the nickname of
"lightning-wallahs," given by the natives to the telegraph-clerks,
struck him as being happy, and Afzul's reference to fire from heaven
passed through his mind. More like fire from hell surely, with that
horrible sulphurous smell, and now and again a ghastly undertoned
crackle like the laughter of fiends. There again! Wider this time, and
followed by a rattle as of musketry. But the snow which was now
sweeping along in white swirls seemed to shroud even the lightning.
Horrible! To have so much light and to be able to see nothing but
cloud, and the stones at your feet. How long would he see them?
How long would it be before the snow obliterated the path, leaving
him lost? He stumbled along, tingling to his very finger-tips, despite
the cold which grew with every explosion. The very hair on his fur
coat stood out electrified, and his brain swam with a wild
excitement. On and on recklessly, yet steadily; his footsteps
deadened by the drifting snow, until he stood at the threshold of
shelter and threw open the door of the shanty.

Great Heaven, what was this! The bâbu, green with fear, working
the signaller, while Afzul Khân, surrounded by six or seven armed
Pathans, stood over him with drawn knife. "Go on, you fool!" he was
saying, "your work is nearly finished."

The full meaning of the scene flashed through Dick Smith's

excited brain quicker than any lightning. Treachery was at work, with
a coward for its agent. His revolver was out in a second, and before
the astonished group had time to grasp the unexpected interruption,
the bâbu's nerveless fingers slipped from the handles, as with a
gasping sob, rising above the report, he sank in a heap on the floor.

"By God and His Prophet!" cried Afzul, carried away, as men of his
kind are, by the display of daredevil boldness which is their
unattained ideal of bravery. "Yea, by the twelve Imaums, but it was
well done."

"Liar, traitor, unfaithful to salt!" cried Dick, whose extraordinary

appearance and absolutely reckless behaviour inspired his hearers
with such awe that for the moment they stood transfixed. The
revolver was levelled again, this time at Afzul, when the memory of
other things beside revenge sobered the lad, and a flash of that
inspiration which in time of danger marks the leader of men from his
fellows made him throw aside the weapon and fold his arms. "No!"
he said coolly, "I am faithful. I have eaten the salt of the Barakzais;
they are my friends."

"Don't hurt the lad," cried Afzul, not a moment too soon, for cold
steel was at Dick's throat. "God smite you to eternal damnation,
Haiyât! Put up that knife, I say. The lad's words are true. He has
eaten of our salt, and we of his. He hath lived among us and done
no harm to man or maid. By Allah! the lightning has got into his
brain. Bind him fast; and mark you, 'twill be worse than death for
him to lie here helpless, knowing that the wires he made such a fuss
about have lured his friends to death. I know his sort. Death?--this
will be seventy hells for him; and we can kill him after, if needs be."

Dick, as he felt the cords bite into his wrists and ankles, ground
his teeth at the man's jeering cruelty. "Kill me outright, you devils!"
he cried, struggling madly. It was the wisest way to ensure life, for
the sight of his impotent despair amused his captors.

"Give him a nip of his own brandy, Haiyât, or he will be slipping

through our fingers," said one, as he lay back exhausted.

"Not I; the bottle's near empty as it is."

Tales of his boyhood about drunken guards and miraculous

escapes recurred to Dick's memory, and though he felt to the full the
absurdity of mixing them up with the present deadly reality, the
slenderest chance gave at least room for hope. "There is plenty
more in the cupboard," he gasped. "The key is in my pocket."

"True is it, O Kâreem, that the Feringhi infidel cannot die in peace
without his sharâb," remarked Haiyât virtuously. But he did not fail
with the others to taste all the contents of the cupboard, even to a
bottle of Pain-killer which had belonged to the bâbu. Meanwhile
Dick, lying helpless and bound, felt a fierce surge of hope and
despair as he remembered that behind those open doors lay
something which could put an end to treachery. Five minutes with
his field-instrument in the open, and, let what would come
afterwards, he would have done his work. The thought gave Dick an
idea which, if anything, increased the hopelessness of his position,
for the only result of his offer to work the wires on condition of his
life being saved, was to drive Afzul, who saw his dread of Dick's
getting his hands on the instrument in danger of being over-ruled,
into settling the question, once and for all, by severing the
connection with a hatchet.

"I know him better than that," he said; "he would sit and fool us
until he had given warning. Let him lie there; if he has sense, he will
sleep."

There was something so significant in his tone that Dick felt

wisdom lay in pretending to follow the advice. He strained his ears
for every whispered word of the gang as they crouched round the
fire, and gathered enough to convince him that the sudden change
of plan at head-quarters had endangered some deep-laid scheme of
revenge, and that Afzul Khân, believing Dick had gone on to the
camp, had suggested a false telegram in order to lure the regiment
into the open. A frantic rage and hate for the man who had
suggested such a devilish prostitution of what constituted Dick's joy
and pride roused every fibre of the lad's being. Lecoq, that greatest
of examples to prisoners, declares that given time, pluck, and a cold
chisel, the man who remains a captive is a fool. But how about the
cold chisel? Dick's eyes, craftily searching about under cover of the
failing fire-light, saw many things which might be useful, but all out
of reach.

"I am cold," he said boldly; "bring me a rug or move me out of

the draught."

They did both, in quick recognition of his spirit, and, with a laugh
and an oath to the effect that the dead man would be a warm bed-
fellow, dragged him beside the wretched bâbu and threw a
sheepskin rug over both. Dick's faint hope of some carpenter's tools
in the far corner fled utterly: but his heart leaped up again as he
remembered that his cowardly subordinate had always gone about
armed with revolvers and bowie-knives. Rifling a dead man's pockets
with your hands tied behind your back is slow work, but the rug
covered a multitude of movements. Half an hour afterwards Dick's
feet were free, and with the knife held fast between his heels he was
breaking his back in obstinate determination of some time and
somehow severing the rope upon his wrists. Some time and
somehow--it seemed hours; yet when he managed at last with
bleeding hands to draw the watch from his pocket he found it was
barely two o'clock. Hitherto his one thought had been freedom; now
he turned his mind towards escape. There was still plenty of time for
him to reach the camp ere dawn found the regiment on the move;
but the risks he might have to run on the way decided him, first of
all, to try and secure his field-instrument from the cupboard. He lay
still for a long time wondering what to do next, furtively watching
Afzul Khân as he busied himself over the fire, while the others dozed
preparatory to the work before them. Having possessed himself also
of the dead bâbu's revolver, Dick felt mightily inclined to risk all by a
steady shot at Afzul, and immediate flight. But the remembrance of
those sentries on the downward road prevented him from relying
altogether on his speed of foot. Yet Dick knew his man too well to
build anything on the chance of either wine or weariness causing
Afzul to relax his watch. It had come to be a stand-up fight between
these two, a state of affairs which never fails to develop all the
resources of brain and body. Dick, keenly alive to every trivial detail,
noticed first a longer interval in the replenishing of the fire, and then
the fact that but a few small logs of wood remained in the pile.
Thereafter, whenever Afzul's right hand withdrew fresh fuel, Dick's
left under cover of the noise made free with more. The sheepskin
rug had shelter for other things than a dead body and a living one.

"It burns like a fat Hindoo," muttered the Pathan, sulkily, as the
last faggot went to feed the flame. "Lucky there is more in the
outhouse, or those fools would freeze to death in their sleep."

Dick's heart beat like a sledge-hammer. His chance, the only

chance, had come! Almost before the tall figure of the Pathan, after
stooping over him to make sure that he slept, had ceased to block
the doorway, Dick was at the cupboard. A minute's, surely not more
than a minute's delay, and he was outside, safe and free, with the
means of warning carefully tucked inside his fur coat.
 Too late! Right up the only possible path came Afzul, carrying a
great armful of sticks. To rush on him unprepared, tumble him
backwards into a snowdrift alongside, deal him a crashing blow or
two for quietness' sake and cram his pugree into his mouth, was the
work of a minute; the next he was speeding down the descent with
flying feet. The storm was over, and the moon riding high in the
heavens shone on a white world; but already the darkness of the
peaks against the eastern sky told that the dawn was not far off.

The first dip of the wires, he decided, was too close for safety,
besides the drifts always lay thickest there. The next, a mile and a
half down the valley, was best in every way; and as he ran, the keen
joy of victory, not only against odds but against one man, came to
him with the thought of Afzul Khân gagged and helpless in the snow.
But he had reckoned without the cold; the chill night air which,
finding its way through the open door, soon roused the sleepers by
the ill-replenished fire. Haiyât, waking first, gave the alarm, and the
discovery of their leader half suffocated in the snowdrift followed
swiftly. Yet it was not until the latter, slowly recovering speech,
gasped out a warning, that the full meaning of their prisoner's
escape was brought home to them.

"After him! Shoot him down!" cried Afzul, staggering to his feet.
"He can bring fire from heaven! If he touches the wires all is lost.
Fool that I was not to kill him, the tiger's cub, the hero of old! Curse
him, true son of Byramghor, born of the lightning!" So with wild
threats, mingled with wilder words of wonder and admiration, Afzul
Khân, still dazed by the blows Dick had dealt him, stumbled along in
rear of the pursuit.

The latter's heart knew its first throb of fear when the signal he
sent down the severed wire brought no reply. After all, was the
outcome of long months of labour, the visible embodiment of what
was best in him, about to fail in time of need? Again and again he
signalled, urgently, imperiously, while his whole world seemed to
wait in breathless silence. Failure! No, no, incredible, impossible; not
failure after all! Suddenly, loud and clear, came an answering trill,
bringing with it a joy such as few lives know. A shout from above, a
bullet whistling past him; scarcely fair that, when his hands were
busy, and his mind too, working methodically, despite those yelling
fiends tearing down the slope. "Major from Dick--treachery."
Something like a red-hot iron shot through his leg as he knelt on the
cliff, a clear mark against the sky. Lucky, he thought, it was not
through his arm. "For God's sake--" He doubled up in sudden agony
but went on "Stand fast."

There was still a glint of life left in him when Afzul Khân, coming
up behind the butchers, claimed the death-blow. Their eyes met.
"Fire--from--heaven!" gasped Dick, and rolled over dead. The Pathan
put up his knife gloomily. "It is true," he said with an oath. "I knew
he was that sort; he has beaten us fairly."

An hour afterwards, heralded by winged clouds flushed with the

ceaseless race of day, the steady sun climbed the eastern sky and
looked down brightly on the dead body of the lad who had given
back his spark of divine fire to the Unknown. Perhaps, if bureaucracy
had not seen fit to limit genius within statutory bounds, Dick Smith
might have left good gifts behind him for his generation, instead of
taking them back with him to the storehouse of Nature. And the sun
shone brightly also on Belle Stuart's bed; but not even her dreams
told her that her best chance of happiness lay dead in the snow. She
would not have believed it, even if she had been told.
 CHAPTER XII.

It was a walled garden full of blossoming peach-trees, and

chequered with little rills of running water beside which grew
fragrant clumps of golden-eyed narcissus. In the centre was a
slender-shafted, twelve-arched garden-house, with overhanging
eaves, and elaborate fret-work, like wooden lace, between the
pillars. On the sides of the stone daïs on which the building stood
trailed creepers bright with flowers, and in front of the open archway
serving as a door lay the harmonious puzzle of a Persian carpet rich
in deep reds and yellows. Easy-chairs, with a fox-terrier curled up on
one of them, and a low gipsy table ominously ringed with marks of
tumblers, showed the presence of incongruous civilisation.

From within bursts of merriment and the clatter of plates and

dishes, without which civilisation cannot eat in comfort, bore witness
that dinner was going on. Then, while the birds were beginning to
say good-night to each other, the guests came trooping out in high
spirits, ready for coffee and cigars. All, with one exception, were in
the khâki uniform which repeated washing renders, and always will
render, skewbald, despite the efforts of martial experts towards a
permanent dye. Most of the party were young and deeply engrossed
by the prospect of some sky-races, which, coming off next day, were
to bring their winter sojourn at Jumwar to a brilliant close. One, a
lanky boy with pretensions to both money and brains, was drawing
down on himself merciless chaff by a boastful allusion to former
stables he had owned.

"Don't believe a syllable he says," cried his dearest friend. "I give
you my word they were all screws. Stable, indeed! Call it your tool-
chest, Samuel, my boy."
 Lieutenant Samuel Johnson, whose real name of Algernon,
bestowed on him by his godfathers and godmothers in his baptism,
had been voted far too magnificent for everyday use, blinked his
white eyelashes in evident enjoyment of his own wit as he retorted:
"Well, if they were screws I turned 'em myself. You buy yours ready
made."

"Well done, Samivel! Well done! You're improving," chorused the

others with a laugh.

"You might lend me that old jest-book, Sam, now that you've got
a new one," replied his opponent calmly. "I'm running short of
repartees,--and of cigars, too, bad cess to the Post! By Jove! I wish I
had the driving of those runners; I'd hurry them up!"

"Man does not live by cigars alone. I'm dead broke for boots,"
interrupted another, looking disconsolately at the soles and uppers
which not all the shameless patching of an amateur artist could keep
together.

"I have the best of you there," remarked some one else. "I got
these at Tom Turton's sale. They wouldn't fit any one else."

"Yes, poor Tom had small feet."

There was a pause among the light-hearted youngsters as if the

grim Shadow which surrounded that blossoming garden had crept a
bit nearer.

"This is delightful," said John Raby, the only civilian present, as he

lay back in his easy-chair which was placed beyond the noisy circle.
His remark was addressed to Philip Marsden, who leaned against
one of the octagonal turrets which like miniature bastions flanked
the platform. "I shall be quite sorry to leave the place," continued
Raby. "It's a perfect paradise."
 In truth it was very beautiful. The pink and white glory of the
peach blossoms blent softly into the snow-clad peaks, now flushed
by the setting sun; while a level beam of light, streaming in through
a breach in the wall, lit up the undergrowth of the garden, making
the narcissus shine like stars against the dark green shadows.

"Doubtless," remarked Philip, "--for a Political who comes with the

swallows and summer. You should have seen it in January,--shouldn't
he, boys?"

"Bah! the usual 'last Toosday' of 'Punch!' The hardships of

campaigning indeed! Perdrix aux choux and cold gooseberry tart for
dinner; an idyllic mess-house in a peach-garden; coffee and iced
pegs to follow."

"Well, sir," cried a youngster cheerfully, "if you had favoured us in

winter we would have given you stewed Tom in addition. It was an
excellent cat; we all enjoyed it, except Samuel. You see it was his
favourite miaow, so he is going to give the stuffed skin to an aged
aunt, from whom he expects money, in order to show that he
belongs to the Anti-Vivisection League."

"A certain faint regard for the verities is essential to a jest," began
Samuel, affecting the style of his illustrious namesake.

"I wish some one would remove the mess-dictionary," interrupted

the other. "The child will hurt himself with those long words some
day."

"Bad for you, if they did," grinned a third. "D'ye know he actually
asked me last mail-day if there were two f's in affection. Whoo
hoop!" Closely pursued by the avenger he leapt the low balustrade,
and the garden resounded to much boyish laughter, as one by one
the youngsters joined the chase.

"Remarkably high spirits," yawned John Raby, "but a trifle

reminiscent of a young gentleman's academy. They jar on the dolce
far niente of the surroundings."

"We were glad enough of the spirits a few months ago," replied
Philip significantly. "The dolce far niente of semi-starvation requires
some stimulant."

"That was very nearly a fiasco, sending you over the Pass so late.
Lucky for you the Politicals put the drag on the Military in time."

"Lucky, you mean, that poor Dick Smith managed to send that
telegram. I've often wondered how he did it. The story would be
worth hearing; he was one in a thousand."

"You always had a leaning towards that red-headed boy; now I

thought him most offensive. He--"

"De mortuis," quoted the Major with a frown.

"Those are the ethics of eternity combined with a sneaking belief

in ghosts. But I mean nothing personal. He was simply a
disconcerting sport, as the biologists say, from the neutral-tinted
Eurasian, and I distrust a man who doesn't look his parentage; he is
generally a fraud or a monstrosity."

"That theory of yours is rather hard on development, isn't it?" said

Philip with a smile.

"Only a stand in favour of decency and order. What right has a

man to be above his generation? It is extremely inconvenient to the
rest of us. If he is successful, he disturbs our actions; if he uses us
as a brick wall whereon to dash out his brains, he disturbs our
feelings. To return to Dick Smith; the whole affair was foolhardy and
ridiculous. If I had been Political then I should certainly have refused
to allow that camping-out on the Pass; and so he would probably
have been enjoying all that money, instead of dying miserably just
when life became worth having."
 "What money?" asked Philip Marsden hastily.

"Didn't you hear? It was in the papers last week,--haven't seen

them yet perhaps? Some distant relation of his father's died in
England, leaving everything to Smith senior or his direct male heirs;
failing them, or their assigns, to charity. So as no one had made a
will,--paupers don't generally--some dozens of wretched children will
be clothed in knee-breeches or poke-bonnets till Time is no more."

In the pause which ensued Philip Marsden felt, as most of us do

at times, that he would have given all he possessed to put Time's
dial back a space, and to be standing once more on the northern
slope of the Peirâk with Dick's hand in his. "There's the will, Major; it
doesn't make any difference, you know." The words came back to
him clearly, and with them the mingled feeling of proud irritation and
resentful self-respect which had made him set the blue envelope
aside, and advise a more worldly caution. Temper, nothing but
temper, it seemed to him now. "There was a will," he said at last, in
a low voice. "Dick spoke to me of one when we came over the Pass
together. You see there was a chance of his getting a few rupees
from old Desouza."

John Raby threw away the end of his cigarette with an

exclamation. "By George, that's funny! To make a will in hopes of
something from a man who died insolvent, and come in for thirty
thousand pounds you knew nothing about! But where is the will? It
was not among his papers, for strangely enough the people had not
looted much when the Pass opened and we went over to search.
Perhaps he sent it somewhere for safe custody. It would make a
difference to Belle Stuart, I expect, for he--well, he was another
victim."

"I think,--in fact I am almost sure,"--the words came reluctantly

as if the speaker was loth to face the truth,--"that he had the will
with him when he died. He showed it me--and--Raby, was every
search made for the body?"
 His hearer shrugged his shoulders. "As much as could be done in
a place like that. For myself I should have been surprised at success.
Think of the drifts, the vultures and hyenas, the floods in spring. Of
course it may turn up still ere summer is over, but I doubt it. What a
fool the boy was to carry the will about with him! Why didn't he give
it to some one else who was less heroic?"

"He could easily have done that, for I tell you, Raby, he was worth
a dozen of us who remain," said Philip bitterly, as he stood looking
over the peach-blossom to the lingering snows where Dick had died.
"Well, good-night. I think I shall turn in. After all there is no fool like
an old fool."

The civilian followed his retreating figure with a good-natured

smile. "He really was fond of that youngster," he said to himself.
"The mere thought of it all has made him throw away half of the
best cigar on this side the Peirâk. By Jove! I won't give him another;
it is too extravagant."

The next morning Philip Marsden came over to the Political

quarters, and with a remark that last night's conversation had borne
in on him the necessity for leaving one's affairs in strict business
order, asked John Raby to look over the rough draft of a will.

"Leave it with me," was the reply, given with the usual easy good-
nature. "It appears to me too legal, the common fault of amateurs.
I'll make it unimpeachable as Cæsar's wife, get one of my bâbus to
engross it, and bring it over ready for you to fill up the names and
sign this afternoon. No thanks required; that sort of thing amuses
me."

He kept his promise, finding Philip writing in the summer-house.

"If you will crown one kindness by another and can wait a moment,
I will ask you to witness it," said the latter. "I shall not be a moment
filling it in."
 "The advantage of not cutting up good money into too many
pieces," replied his friend smiling.

"The disadvantage perhaps of being somewhat alone in the world.

There, will you sign?"

"Two witnesses, please; but I saw Carruthers in his quarters as I

came by; he will do."

John Raby, waiting to perform a kindly act somewhat to the

prejudice of his own leisure, for he was very busy, amused himself
during Major Marsden's temporary absence by watching a pair of
doves with pink-grey plumage among the pink-grey blossom.
Everything was still and silent in the garden, though outside the row
of silvery poplar trees swayed and rustled in the fitful gusts of the
wind. Suddenly a kite soaring above swooped slightly, the startled
doves fled scattering the petals, and the wind, winning a way
through the breach in the wall, blew them about like snowflakes. It
caught the paper too that was lying still wet with ink, and whirled it
off the table to John Raby's feet. "I hope it is not blotted," he
thought carelessly, as he stooped to pick it up and replace it.

A minute after Major Marsden, coming in alone, found him, as he

had left him, at the door, with rather a contemptuous smile on his
face. "Carruthers is not to be had, and I really have not the
conscience to ask you to wait any longer," said the Major.

John Raby was conscious of a curious sense of relief. In after

years he felt that the chance which prevented him from signing
Philip Marsden's will as a witness came nearer to a special
providence than any other event in his career. Yet he replied
carelessly: "I wish I could, my dear fellow, but any other person will
do as well. I have to see the Mukdoom at five, and I start at seven
to prepare your way before you in true Political style. Can I do
anything else for you?"
 "Put the will into the Political post-bag for safety when I send it
over," laughed Philip as they shook hands. "Good-bye. You will be a
lion at Simla while we are still doing duty as sand-bags on the
scientific frontier; diplomacy wins nowadays."

"Not a bit of it. In twenty years, when we have invented a gun

that will shoot round a corner, the nation which hasn't forgotten the
use of the bayonet will whip creation, and we shall return to the
belief that the man who will face his fellow, and lick him, is the best
animal."

"In the meantime, Simla for you and service for us."

"Not a bit of that, either. Why, the British Lion has been on the
war-trail for a year already. It's time now for repentance and a
transformation-scene; troops recalled, durbar at Peshawar, the Amir
harlequin to Foreign Office columbine, Skobeloff as clown playing
tricks on the British public as pantaloon."

"And the nameless graves?"

"Principle, my dear fellow," replied John Raby with a shrug of his

shoulders, "is our modern Moloch. We sacrifice most things to it,--on
principle. By the bye, I have mislaid that original of the will
somehow; possibly my boy packed it up by mistake, but if I come
across it I'll return it."

"Don't bother,--burn it. 'Tis no good to any one now."

"Nor harm, either,--so good-bye, warrior!"

"Good-bye, diplomatist!"

They parted gaily, as men who are neither friends nor foes do
part even when danger lies ahead.
 That same evening the homeward bound post-runner carried with
him over the Peirâk Major Marsden's will leaving thirty thousand
pounds to Belle Stuart unconditionally. It was addressed to an
eminently respectable London firm of solicitors, who, not having to
deal with the chances of war, would doubtless hold it in safe custody
until it was wanted. The testator, as he rode the first march on the
Cabul road, felt, a little bitterly, that once more he had done his best
to stand between her and care. Yet it must be confessed that this
feeling was but as the vein of gold running through the quartz, for
pride and a resentful determination that no shadow of blame should
be his, whatever happened, were the chief factors in his action. Nor
did he in any way regard it as final. The odds on his life were even,
and if he returned safe from the campaign he meant to leave no
stone unturned in the search for Dick Smith's body. Then, if he failed
to find the will, it would be time enough to confess he had been in
the wrong.

John Raby, as he put the bulky letter in the Political bag according
to promise, felt also a little bitter as he realised that Belle with thirty
thousand pounds would come as near perfection in his eyes as any
woman could. And then he smiled at the queer chance which had
put him in possession of Major Marsden's intention; finally dismissing
the subject with the cynical remark that perhaps a woman who was
sufficiently fascinating to make two people leave her money ere she
was out of her teens might not be a very safe possession.
 CHAPTER XIII.

In the tiny drawing-room of a tiny house, wedged in between a

huge retaining wall and the almost perpendicular hill-side, Belle
Stuart sat idly looking out of the window. Not that there was
anything to see. The monsoon fogs swept past the stunted oaks,
tipped over the railings, filled the verandah, crept in through the
crevices, and literally sat down on the hearth-stone; for the room
was too small, the thermometer too high, and humanity too poor, to
allow of a fire. Without, was a soft grey vapour deadening the world;
within, was a still more depressing atmosphere of women, widow's
weeds, and wrangling.

On her lap lay the newspaper filled, as usual, with items from the
frontier. To many a woman that first sheet meant a daily agony of
relief or despair; to Belle Stuart it was nothing more than a history
of the stirring times in which she lived, for with Dick's sad end, and
John Raby's return to reap rewards at Simla, she told herself that
her personal interest in the war must needs be over. A passing pity,
perhaps, for some one known by name, a kindly joy for some chance
acquaintance, might stir her pulses; but nothing more. Yet as she sat
there she was conscious of having made a mistake. Something there
was in the very paper lying on her lap which had power to give keen
pain; even to bring the tears to her eyes as she read the paragraph
over again listlessly.

Severe Fighting in the Terwân Pass. Gallant Charge of the 101st Sikhs.
List Of Officers Killed, Wounded, and Missing.--The telegram which reached
Simla a few days ago reporting a severe skirmish in the Terwân has now been
supplemented by details. It appears that a small force consisting of some
companies of the 101st Sikhs, the 24th Goorkhas, the 207th British Infantry, and a
mule battery, were sent by the old route over the Terwân Pass in order to report
on its practical use. No opposition was expected, as the tribes in the vicinity had
come in and were believed to be friendly. About the middle of the Pass, which
proved to be far more difficult than was anticipated, a halt had to be made for the
purpose of repairing a bridge which spanned an almost impassable torrent. The
road, which up to this point had followed the right bank of the river, now crossed
by this bridge to the left in order to avoid some precipitous cliffs. Here it became
evident that the little force had fallen into an ambuscade, for firing immediately
commenced from the numerous points of vantage on either side. The Goorkhas,
charging up the right bank, succeeded in dislodging most of the enemy and
driving them to a safe distance. From the advantage thus gained they then
opened fire on the left bank, managing to disperse some of the lower pickets.
Owing, however, to the rocky and almost precipitous nature of the ground the
upper ones were completely protected, and continued to pour a relentless fire on
our troops, who were, for the most part, young soldiers. During the trying inaction
necessary until the bridge could be repaired,--which was done with praiseworthy
rapidity despite the heavy fire--Major Philip Marsden, of the 101st Sikhs,
volunteered to attempt the passage of the torrent with the object of doing for the
left bank what the Goorkhas had done for the right.

Accordingly the Sikhs, led by this distinguished officer, rushed the river in grand
style, how it is almost impossible to say, save by sheer pluck and determination,
and after an incredibly short interval succeeded in charging up the hill-side and
carrying picket after picket. A more brilliant affair could scarcely be conceived, and
it is with the very deepest regret that we have to report the loss of its gallant
leader. Major Marsden, who was among the first to find foothold on the opposite
bank, was giving directions to his men when a bullet struck him in the chest.
Staggering back almost to the edge of the river, he recovered himself against a
boulder, and shouting that he was all right, bade them go on. Lost sight of in the
ensuing skirmish, it is feared that he must have slipped from the place of
comparative safety where they left him and fallen into the river, for his helmet and
sword-belt were found afterwards a few hundred yards down the stream. None of
the bodies, however, of those lost in the torrent have been recovered. Nor was it
likely that they would be, as the stream here descends in a series of boiling
cataracts and swirling pools. In addition to their leader, whose premature death is
greatly to be deplored, the Sikhs lost two native officers, and thirty-one rank and
file. The Goorkhas--
 But here Belle's interest waned and she let the paper fall on her
lap again. One trivial thought became almost pitifully insistent, "I
wish, oh, how I wish I had not sent back that letter unopened!" As if
a foolish girlish discourtesy more or less would have made any
difference in the great tragedy and triumph of the man's death. For
it was a triumph; she could read that between the lines of the bald
conventional report.

"There's Belle crying, actually crying over Major Marsden," broke

in Maud's cross voice from a rocking-chair. Now a rocking-chair is an
article of furniture which requires a palatial apartment, where its
obtrusive assertion of individual comfort can be softened by
distance. In the midst of a small room, and especially when
surrounded by four women who have not rocking-chairs of their
own, it conduces to nervous irritation on all sides. "You talk about
disrespect, mamma," went on the same injured voice, "just because
I didn't see why we shouldn't go to the Volunteer Ball in colours,
when he was only our stepfather; but I call it really nasty of Belle to
sit and whimper over a man who did his best to take away the only
thing except debts that Colonel Stuart--"

"Oh, do hold your tongue, Maudie!" cried Mabel. "I'm getting sick
of that old complaint. I don't see myself why we shouldn't wear our
pink tulles. It would be economical to begin with, and, goodness
knows, we have to think of the rupees, annas, and paisas
nowadays."

Here Maud, who was not really an ill-tempered girl, became

overwhelmed by the contemplation of her own wrongs, and began
to sob. "I never--wore--a year-behind-fashion dress before, and--
when I suggest it--just to save the expense--I'm told I'm heartless.
As if it was my fault that mamma's settlement was so much waste
paper, and that our money went to pay--"

"Really, Maud, you are too bad," flared up her youngest sister. "If
it was any one's fault, it was Uncle Tom's, for not being more
careful. The governor was awfully good to us always. Ah, things
were very different then!"

This remark turned on the widow's ready tears. "Very different

indeed. Three in the kitchen, and I wouldn't like to say how many in
the stable. And though I don't wish to repine against Providence, yet
caps are so expensive. I can't think why, for they are only muslin;
but Miss Crowe says she can't supply me with one that is really
respectful under five rupees."

"It is all very well for you to talk, Mabel," insisted Maud from the
rocking-chair; "you have a settlement of your own in prospect."

"So might you," retorted the other, "if you were wise, instead of
wasting your time over men who mean nothing, like that handsome
Captain Stanley."

"Yes!" yawned Mildred. "It is the stubby Majors with half-a-dozen

motherless children growing up at home who marry."

Mabel flushed through her sallow skin and in her turn became
tearful; for in truth her fiancé was but too accurately described in
these unflattering terms. "It is not your part to jeer at me for
sacrificing myself to the interests of you girls. In our unfortunate
position it is our duty to avail ourselves of the chances left us, and
not to go hankering after penniless probationers in the Post-Office."

Yet one more recruit for pocket-handkerchief drill rushed to the

front, though more in anger than sorrow. "If you are alluding to
Willie Allsop," retorted Mildred fiercely, "I dare say he will be as well
off as your Major some day. At any rate I'm not going to perjure
myself for money, like some people."

"Oh, girls, girls!" whimpered the widow plaintively, "don't quarrel

and wake Charlie, for the doctor said he was to be kept quiet and
not excited. Really, misfortunes come so fast, and things are so
dear,--to say nothing of Parrish's Chemical Food for Charlie--that I
don't know where to turn. If poor Dick had but lived! It was too bad
of those nasty Afghans to kill the dear boy just as he was getting on,
and being so generous to me. I always stood up for Dick; he had a
warm heart, and people don't make their own tempers, you know."

Belle, who had been sitting silent at the window, clasping and
unclasping her hands nervously, felt as if she must stifle. "I wish,"
she said in a low voice, "you would let me go on teaching as I did in
the winter. Why should we mind, even if there are old friends here
now? I am not ashamed of working."

Her remark had one good effect. It healed minor differences by

the counter irritation of a general grievance, and the upshot of a
combined and vigorous attack was that there had been quite enough
disgrace in the family already, without Belle adding to it. Of course,
had she been able to give lessons in music or singing, the
suggestion might have been considered, since the flavour of art
subdued the degradation; but the idea of teaching the children of
the middle class to read and write was hopelessly vulgar. It was far
more genteel to become a zenana-lady, since there the flavour of
religion disguised the necessity. Belle, trying to possess her soul in
patience by stitching away as if her life depended on it, found the
task beyond her powers. "I think I'll go out," she said in a choked
voice. "Oh, yes! I know it's raining, but the air will do me good; the
house is so stuffy."

"It's the best we can afford now," retorted Maud.

"And the position is good," suggested Mrs. Stuart feebly.

"Belle doesn't care a fig for position, mamma," snapped up her

daughter. "She would have liked one of those barracks by the bazaar
where nobody lives."

"We might have got up a scratch dance there," remarked Mildred

in tones of regret. "Oh, not now, mamma, of course; but by and by
when things got jollier."
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