And now there began for Colin a curious divided life,--without, a
constant shifting of scene, days of heat and bustle and toil,--within, a
slow, tantalising, yet exquisite adventure. The Rim of the Mist was now
no more the goal of his journeys, but the starting-point. Lying there,
amid cool, fragrant sea-winds, his fanciful ear was subtly alert for the
sounds of the dim land before him. Sleeping and waking the quest haunted
him. As he flung himself on his bed the kerosene-filled air would change
to an ocean freshness, the old boat would rock beneath him, and with
clear eye and a boyish hope he would be waiting and watching. And then
suddenly he would be back on shore, Cuna and the Acharra headland
shining grey in the morning light, and with gritty mouth and sand-filled
eyes he would awaken to the heat of the desert camp.
He was kept busy, for his good-humour and energy made him a willing
slave, and he was ready enough for volunteer work when others were weak
with heat and despair. A thirty-mile ride left him untired; more, he
followed the campaign with a sharp intelligence and found a new
enthusiasm for his profession. Discomforts there might be, but the days
were happy; and then--the cool land, the bright land, which was his for
the thinking of it.
Soon they gave him reconnoitring work to do, and his wits were put to
the trial. He came well out of the thing, and earned golden praise from
the silent colonel in command. He enjoyed it as he had enjoyed a hard
race on the river or a good cricket match, and when his worried
companions marvelled at his zeal he stammered and grew uncomfortable.
"How the deuce do you keep it up, Colin?" the major asked him. "I'm an
old hand at the job, and yet I've got a temper like devilled bones. You
seem as chirpy as if you were going out to fish a chalk-stream on a June
morning."
"Well, the fact is----" and Colin pulled himself up short, knowing that
he could never explain. He felt miserably that he had an unfair
advantage of the others. Poor Bellew, who groaned and swore in the heat
at his side, knew nothing of the Rim of the Mist. It was really rough
luck on the poor beggars, and who but himself was the fortunate man?
As the days passed a curious thing happened. He found fragments of the
Other world straying into his common life. The barriers of the two
domains were falling, and more than once he caught himself looking at a
steel-blue sea when his eyes should have found a mustard-coloured
desert. One day, on a reconnoitring expedition, they stopped for a
little on a hillock above a jungle of scrub, and, being hot and tired,
scanned listlessly the endless yellow distances.
"I suppose yon hill is about ten miles off," said Bellew with dry lips.