Traversing many weary miles of that vast Indian Empire, the survey party reaches the Himalaya range.

Twenty-five persons are in the camp. The guide is an intelligent Hindu. There are one German, a Russian, and an American. Ample provisions had been made for the journey. The chief is absolute head of the undertaking, but void of light as to its ultimate purposes.

From the outset Oswald is well treated. In his looks is that which claims respect. While feeling gratitude for employment and evident good-will, Oswald's experiences of the recent past make him pensive. This abstraction had been noted. His prompt obedience to all orders wins approval. He never makes inquiries as to the purposes of this expedition. His chief reciprocates by not referring to Oswald's antecedents and by relieving him from the natural curiosity of fellow-workers.

For a long time they are employed in surveying the mountain passes and approaches. Maps are made and grades established. For many miles on both sides of the range the country is explored, and numberless cipher annotations are placed on the charts. Much care is taken in survey of streams and the location of springs.

Oswald becomes greatly interested in this work, but asks only questions about technical parts. He learns much of triangulation and of aneroid computations. Vernier and arc readings become familiar.

At times tripod and transit seem revolving belcher of deadly hail. Glaring eastward from rocky summit is a "lion rampant." This figure slowly retreats backward with sullen roar. Now upon the mountain apex appears a huge grizzly form, looking from shaggy, impassive brows toward sea and plain and jungle. A mighty horde sweeps down, emerging from pass and rocky fastnesses. This army, scattering over the plain, is swelled by Moslem, Sikh, Hindu, Parsee, and Buddhist allies, until its millions hold India's domain. The perspective becomes confused, outlines jumble, figures are inverted, lights and shadows intermingle their chameleon hues, until under widened folds of British and Russian canvas "Lion" and "Bear" divide the "foray," still regarding each other with "rolling eyes of prey."

From such chimeras Oswald turns to more prosaic matters.

Many books had been brought on this far journey. Long, tedious hours are beguiled in the perusal of their contents. History, politics, war, poetry, religion, and romance are freely discussed by different members of the party during hours spent in camp. Both German and Russian speak English fairly well; the Hindu guide is easily understood. There is a plentiful supply of rifles, swords, knives, and ammunition. When possible, all camp near together, taking proper precautions against attacks from roving bands of marauders.

Oswald's most intimate associates are the chief, German, American, and Russian. These are not afflicted with curiosity as to each other's past. The chief is under sealed orders; both German and Russian had left their respective countries for good of Kaiser and Tsar; the American is an adventurous son of millionaire residing in New York. Weary of ennui in the metropolis, this Yankee aristocrat seeks diversion in trips to all parts of the globe. All of these are recipients of classic culture.

Oswald's experiences had been most limited, but of greatest intensity. Since his Northfield romance, pain of years had crowded into a few brief months. The face of Esther Randolph is indelibly painted on his memory. Now free from haunting fear of detection, Oswald can more rationally review the events driving him into indefinite exile from home and friends. Doubtless Sir Donald and Esther believed him dead. They never could accuse him of murdering Alice Webster, but surely would charge this crime and his own death upon Paul Lanier. The lake tragedy was conclusive. Would not Esther have sad recollections of the man who sought her hand and met such death? That she would never marry another he is sure. Has this lovely girl entered upon her chosen mission? To himself he says:

"One so pure should find refuge from earth's coarse pleasures in holy consecration to spiritual ideals. How grand the influences of those moral advisers whose teachings had directed her feet aright.

"Could I only see father and mother! What sleepless nights they must have passed since my disguised exit from that home, months ago! If I could only write to or hear from them! It may be that this horrible condition of things is proper punishment for my presumptuous pride, but why should the innocent suffer? When will this mystery be cleared? What is being done to convict the guilty?"

Oswald now hopes that English justice will not be delinquent. Surely detectives can unravel this complicated web. Why are these sleuths so tardy? He now chafes at the slow zeal of those whose pursuit of Oswald Langdon would have been resisted to the death. These ministers of justice, in honest, tireless search for the murderer of Oswald Langdon and Alice Webster, even now would reckon lightly of their own lives if they attempted his arrest. But this high-spirited youth feels no tremor of physical fear. The gallows have no terrors other than those of unmerited ignominy. Oswald would rush on swift death if thereby the name of Langdon could be cleared.

He thus upbraids himself: "My flight from London was cowardly. Better with moral determination to have faced all and accepted my fate. The death of Alice Webster is unavenged; her slayer is at large, a human beast of prey; father and mother are in frightful suspense; the spectral hand of the drowned girl beckons me to revenge upon her murderer; but ignoring all these, I am a selfish, cowardly 'derelict,' fearful of possible harm."

Then he exclaims: "Not too fast! Has not English justice gloated over conviction of the innocent? What fearful irony in some of its swift so-called vindications! How can public clamor be satisfied but by sacrifice when there is a victim at hand? What hope that detectives would pursue Paul Lanier for the murder of Alice Webster with Oswald Langdon conveniently near? Are not my absence and supposed death necessary to the unraveling of this intricate plot? In what other way can the name of Langdon be cleared from pending disgrace?"

Oswald now desires to live until justice triumphs. He sometimes feels assurance that all will be righted. It is difficult to restrain his curiosity within discreet bounds.

The camp discussions help to divert his thought from somber reflections. These informal debates take wide range.

Karl Ludwig is a versatile German. Though thinking it discreet to absent himself from fatherland, Karl is at heart loyal to his sturdy young Kaiser. To Karl the memories of imperial Teutonic succession and achievements are proud heritage. He would champion the real cause of his emperor against the world. In event of foreign attack Karl would subscribe without reserve to the "divine rights" of William. There is in his heart no place for treason.

Like many other exiles from native land, Karl was a real menace to constituted authority. Speech led him into proscribed provinces. Harmless in overt act or intent, his words were deadly explosives, charged with dynamo energy sufficient to wreck every throne of Europe.

To poetic or reflective mind Karl's startling metaphors were harmless hyperbole or garrulous trope of brilliant, idealistic sentiment, but such fired credulous natures to white heat of anarchy. It became essential to German tranquillity that Karl Ludwig be suppressed.

Not aware of proper rating by officials of fatherland, Karl took passage for Calcutta, landing with culture, pride, and imagination at this Indian metropolis.

Ivan Shelgunoff graduated from Moscow University. He had imbibed sentiments harmless in theory, but inimical to practical policies of Russian civics. Having no intention of posing as factional disturber of the public peace, his indiscreet utterances reach ear of vigilant official. Not fascinated with prospect of indefinite Siberian exile, Ivan procured leave to quit the domain of the Tsar, finding habitation under the British flag in this seaport near the mouth of the Ganges.

Yet Ivan Shelgunoff is proud of Russian traditions and statecraft, feeling no bitterness toward Nicholas II., but filial reverence for this recently crowned youthful patriarch-autocrat.

Intrusted with enforcement of police regulations, Ivan soon would abandon plausible theories of individual freedom as Utopian chimeras, not adapted to exigencies of practical civic needs. Siberian penal exile would become essential part of police supervision, with possible excesses, as in all provisions for the suppression of crime.

Oswald comes to regard Karl Ludwig and Ivan Shelgunoff with much interest. Their critical, liberal sentiments, so well expressed, are appreciated by his subtle perception. Through these garrulous, versatile commentators his horizon is vastly extended. Readily appropriating the good, he notes defects and makes judicious comparisons. Seldom drawn into discussion or comment, his evident interest insures hearty good-will. However, these vocal encyclopedias of wisdom generally and of statecraft in particular at times are surprised by Oswald's responses to their direct appeals. By a subtle system of intellectual buccaneering this reserved Englishman winnows from much chaffy verbiage the real seeds of thought. In fresh-turned fallow of his fertile fancy the grain germinates into better growths. They wonder at his quick perception, profound discrimination, and marvelous craft of readjustment. That this British subject can see in the different policies of more absolute powers and in less flexible modes of civic alignment so much to commend or excuse to them is queer indeed. They surmise that by habitual globe-trotting Oswald has become a "citizen of the world."

Strange that he who would resent the least show of arbitrary interference with his own interests finds so much to justify in rigorous German and Russian policies.

When Oswald did express an opinion on any of the subjects under discussion, Karl and Ivan seemed to accept his comments as oracle, making no adverse suggestions. Such deference is no infrequent tribute to well-bred reserve.

To some criticisms of Karl Ludwig, Oswald showed much sympathy with aspirations of Emperor William for military resources promptly available in all emergencies. He said:

"Increased land and naval equipment should be voted by the Reichstag in the interest of German tranquillity. Such expenditures are economic precautions against expensive wars. Thereby the solvency of the German exchequer would be moderately insured. So far from unduly fostering a bellicose spirit tending to war, these would be tactful preventives of wasteful foreign and civil broils. Fifty years' current expense to insure the empire's peace would not equal waste of one such serious conflict. There is no doubt that this sturdy sovereign possesses much military spirit. This is natural heritage, coming down in direct royal line from hero ancestry. Fostered by severe German tactics, it tends toward ambition for martial prestige, but has been consecrated to the arts of peace. It is but natural that such trend and discipline tinge this consecration with heroic shades. These are not the results of diseased caprice, but suggest potent considerations which it would be well to respect. Let none think that William would falter in any crisis. The same imperial foresight prompting some strange assertions of royal prerogatives would head German armies, for success of colonial extension, in chastisement for wanton treaty violations, or to preserve the integrity of his empire. Much lightly has been written about the caprices of this ruler, but genius always was peculiar."

After an impressive silence, Oswald resumes:

"Cares of empire have strange tendencies and special warrant."

Dreamily looking at Karl, Oswald then, as if in reverie, quotes:

At another time there had been an animated discussion between Ivan Shelgunoff and Karl Ludwig as to the comparative merits of Russian and German dynasties, with the peculiar institutions of both countries. Direct appeal being made to Oswald for an opinion, he avoids invidious comparisons, and says:

"Nicholas II. is crowned head of an absolute dynasty. The royal line of Romanoff succession found in him rightful representative of its august power. Whatever may be said about the rigor of Russian rule and its conflict with Nihilistic tendencies, the quarrel so far as pertains to this young sovereign is that of a true inheritor.

"Nicholas succeeded to Russian policies as essential allies of his crown. These are united in newly welded bonds of imperial wedlock. Their divorce would be destruction of his throne.

"Representative liberty is a comparative ideal. The Russian peasant enjoys frugal life with his family and few humble friends. Is it likely that such feel the autocratic pressure of their Tsar? Perhaps there may be many cases wherein private rights have been ruthlessly invaded, but are not such results usually due to insolent perversions by minor officials? Doubtless many innocent suspects are sent into hopeless exile through official zeal, still like effects often result from similar causes in liberal commonwealths."

Looking in questioning banter at Claude Leslie, Oswald says:

"It has been rumored that in the great republic beyond the Atlantic they sometimes do a little 'railroading.'"

Tippoo Kalidasa is an interesting Hindu. With self-inflicted cognomen and many eccentric notions about all sorts of subjects, Tippoo can talk well and to the point. Though a professed disciple of modern Brahmanism, he had deeply imbibed Buddhistical precepts and philosophy. The lessons learned in childhood at his island home never were forgotten.

Leaving Ceylon about his eighteenth year, Tippoo had traveled much in China, Japan, and over parts of Siberia before going to India. Everywhere had been accented in human lives the influence of that noble prince, the founder of Buddhism. True, Tippoo saw in these writings frequent contradictions, yet the character of this Indian teacher was pure.

Faith rarely insists on absolutely consistent verities.

Much travel among peoples of other beliefs, and study of new religious tenets had modified these earlier views. In reflective moods, Tippoo saw much to criticise in this ancient philosophy, which, though indelibly stamped upon its modern successor, as a professed system of religious teaching, had become almost a stranger in the land of its original growth. Still these early influences are most potent. In all emergencies of thought or feeling, Tippoo Kalidasa soulfully repeats the formula:

"I take refuge in Buddha!"

Though Oswald's mind is not excessively tinged with the speculative or ethical, he finds much of interest in the talk of this unique guide.

So rudely having been torn from all early environments, with such shock of utter change in thought and impulse, is it strange that former trend is broken? While tempering the white heat of aspiration, Oswald's recent troubles widened his horizon. But novel tempers are not wholly the results of changed circumstances. Latent powers and senses are awakened.

At times the memories of recent experiences weigh upon Oswald's mind, but are not always present. There is little menace of arrest and much youthful elastic spirit. Imperious will is in abeyance. There are moods of chastened relaxation from self-consciousness, with peculiar sense of relief and compensation.

Many an hour is beguiled by these two widely different men in comment upon this philosophy of the East. A moral system claiming the fealty of so great a part of earth's population surely is an important subject for human study.

Much pleased at the interest of this dignified Englishman trying to understand the tenets of an ancient faith, Tippoo talks freely and profoundly, giving numerous explanatory versions from his own fertile fancy.

Oswald notes the strong points, beautiful sentiments, practical beneficence, and occult theories of this oriental belief. He becomes enamored of the life and teachings of Prince Guatama.

To some criticisms of Ivan Shelgunoff, Oswald replies:

"Original doctrines often are distorted by ignorant interpreters. Great ideas are degraded by dogmatic priestcraft."

There is no danger of Oswald becoming a partisan of this creed. He is impressed with its defects, though appreciating the sublimity of general tenets. Oswald does not like the doctrine of "Merger." This assertive Briton has no desire to lose identity in "Brahm." Oswald Langdon as dissolved dewdrop in shoreless sea were too vague.

From listening to these German, Russian, and Hindu philosophers, Oswald enjoys talking with Claude Leslie. This rich American has none of that reputed affectation of some western aristocrats. His manners are frank, without any suggestion of pretense. Having the entrÉe of Gotham select circles, Claude sailed on an extended tour of the world. He had visited at leisure nearly every port and important city of earth. With a quick sense of the remarkable in ordinary commonplace, he had seen much of interest. His descriptions greatly entertained Oswald, who never tired of listening to Claude's narratives. Indeed it may be well surmised that from some of the broad-gauge ideas and epigrammatic sayings of Claude Leslie came much of Oswald's changed views and disposition to justify or excuse in others that which he formerly considered as utterly without warrant.

How little does the awakened alert sense reckon of the initial processes of its quickening!

The most fascinating parts of Claude's talks are about persons, places, events, anecdotes, and incidents familiar to this Yankee aristocrat before starting on his prolonged tour of the world.

Oswald becomes greatly interested in the affairs of this land beyond the seas. Much had been written about "impressions" of America and Americans. He had read some of these erudite, mildly drawn caricatures, and is not predisposed toward the homes or characters of those "cousins" across the Atlantic. A few that he had met in England strengthened this prejudice. Shallow attempts to ape everything English had disgusted this frank, open-hearted, perceptive Briton, with his innate abhorrence of sham pretensions.

Americanism as typified by Claude Leslie is a new revelation. Such incarnation of a great national character evokes his English pride of kinship. He feels a most complacent sense of British responsibility for American progress. In response to some of Claude's comments, Oswald inquires:

"With such pedigree, why should not this bounding thoroughbred win the Derby?"

Oswald begins to feel potent suggestions that much of human prejudice results from long-range ignorance. That this narrow-gauge, contracting visual handicap is a real social, religious, and political astigmatism he now and then quite clearly sees.

Claude Leslie's comments upon Gotham social and business life are those of a close observer. His criticisms are judicious. Though frequently barbed, these shafts never are tipped with malice.

Replying to opinions expressed by Karl Ludwig about reported whims of New York's "Four Hundred," Claude says:

"These practices result from local conditions. Those living there must conform to the unwritten social law, or risk the ostracising penalties. To some, caste observances are irksome and utterly sham, while to others the very breath of life. It ought not to be expected that all curb their tastes to conform to the fastidious notions of a few, nor should this fashionable minority be unduly blamed for exclusive whims. There always have been and will be select circles. Those sensitively chafing against this would be better employed in rising superior to such things. Even those who set the social pace often feel rebellious toward this dictator. Beneath the disguise of caste New York's select circle love, hate, despair, trust, doubt, rejoice, and suffer in degree like others. I have found such life dull, but concede the right to 'pay the price.' Temperaments differ. Constant touch with their kind is a necessity to many."

From Karl, Claude looks questioningly to that other attentive listener. Oswald gazes at a mountain-ledge and slowly answers:

"It may be that the generous Allgiver, indulging even queer tastes of bird scavengers, not always is vexed at human caprice, but with tender, amused smile watches many of our peculiar antics."

Oswald is much interested in Claude Leslie's comments upon American political and business methods. These, while somewhat similar to those in England, yet radically differ. Disposed to doubt the wisdom of such departures from accustomed ideals, Oswald is often inquisitively critical. Claude explains nearly all to the satisfaction of his friend. Though sensible of defects, Claude is thoroughly American in his tastes and feelings.

Oswald resolves to visit that western land, and to see for himself, but this trip shall abide the course of events. The whole subtly interwoven web of the Lanier conspiracy first shall be unraveled. The dead avenged, his name stainless, Oswald Langdon will sail for that western republic, no longer a hunted refugee.

How elusive Fate's alliance!

For many months the survey party has tramped up and down the slopes of the Himalayas. Nothing has happened to interfere with the purposes of this undertaking. The chief is preparing for return to Calcutta.

Oswald and Karl Ludwig have taken a ride of several miles from camp. In the distance Karl sees a solitary horseman. Through his field-glasses he notes that the distant rider is beckoning toward some farther point. Four horsemen, with rifles across their saddles, are now in sight. Oswald has been hidden from view of these by a slope upon which Karl reined his horse. The four when within about a mile veer to the right. It soon becomes evident to Karl that these are trying to get between him and the camp. He tells Oswald his fears, who promptly joins Karl, facing these unknown horsemen. Making a turn near the trail, the four rapidly approach. Both drop their bridle-reins, grasping the repeating, long-range weapons.

When within about a half-mile the four raise their guns at once. Karl and Oswald elevate their weapons, and the six discharges seem together. Karl's rifle drops, and he hurriedly loosens his feet from the stirrups, as the horse sinks, shot through the brain. Oswald again shoots, when his horse falls to the ground. The remaining two of the enemy press forward, firing repeatedly. Karl has been disabled by a wound in the right arm, and can render no further help. His gun has rolled down the slope, out of reach.

His horse dead and Karl wounded, Oswald again fires, while shots whiz by his head. Only one of the attacking party is now advancing. Oswald fires his remaining charge, but fails to stop his foe, who takes deliberate aim.

Seeing that his only chance to escape being killed is by feigning death, Oswald drops heavily to the ground. With yell the other spurs forward, followed in the distance by another, who, having lost his horse, now rushes to be in at the death.

Having signaled Karl to make no resistance, Oswald is lying in apparent stupor when the horseman rides up and dismounts. Bending over the prostrate form, his long black hair is grasped by Oswald's left hand, who, springing to his feet and giving that strong right arm a swing, strikes the surprised bandit such hard blow under the left ear that there is no need for another. Picking up the rifle dropped by his quivering foe, Oswald fires the remaining charge after the fleeing form of the other robber.

Grasping the bridle of the steed standing by the side of its dead master, Oswald leads the animal to where Karl is lying with cocked revolver in his left hand.

Karl had obeyed Oswald's signal, but watched the effect of this ruse, intending to assist if necessary.

Oswald tears off the sleeve of his shirt and bandages Karl's arm. Placing the German on the robber's steed, he leads the animal to where the nearest horse is lying wounded. Dispatching the beast, he continues on until they reach another of the attacking party, who appears to be mortally wounded by a shot in the side, but is still living.

Oswald again presses forward to the point where the first man and horse had fallen in the fight. Both are dead. The other horse is not in sight.

That upon Oswald's second shot taking effect the riderless steed escaped is evident, but where is the fourth horseman? Two are dead, one is mortally wounded, and another escaped.

They go on toward the camp. After traveling in this way over five miles, they are met by three of the camping party on horseback. It is now arranged that Oswald ride one of these horses, leading the one ridden by Karl to camp, while the others go up the trail and guard the dying bandit until a cart can be sent to bring in the wounded man, the two dead bodies, the guns, bridles, and saddles. After a few hours more, Oswald and Karl reach camp.

The thrilling adventures related, the cart, accompanied by several of the party on horseback, is sent out, and in due time all are under canvas.

This incident warns them that strict watch must be kept to avoid surprises from roving bands infesting some of these mountain fastnesses.

The four bandits evidently were a scouting party. Seeing Oswald and Karl, they had ventured an attack. Their tactics in trying to cut off return of the two showed knowledge of the camp's location.

Though painful, Karl's wound healed rapidly.

Oswald was lionized. Many times Karl told how that quiet Englishman rode up to his side and faced the horsemen when they were trying to cut the two off from camp. Karl would insist that all of Oswald's shots took effect except the last, and he thought that perhaps this slightly wounded the fleeing bandit. That feint of death, vigorous resurrection, and terrific right-hander electrified the garrulous Karl, who is tireless in praise of Oswald's prowess.

Though thankful for their narrow escape, Oswald feels no elation. At least one human being suddenly had been sent by him before his Maker, and another through his act is about to cross the dark river. His conscience is clear, but why was he not spared this sad notoriety?

From the wounded man's features, it was believed that he came from Spain or Mexico. His rambling, delirious utterances were a jargon of mixed tongues. He lived for a week at the camp, but never gave any clew to his identity.

Oswald was the most frequent watcher at the cot of the dying man, anticipating every want, appearing to thereby seek atonement for the fatal shot.

In the last hour Oswald borrowed from one of the party a crucifix. Holding this before the glazing eye of the conscious bandit, he gently lifts the right arm, placing the emblem within the hand which is then laid across the breast.

With a smile, clasping this sacred symbol, the outlaw passes into the Beyond.

There were no papers on the three dead men giving any clew. They were buried about one mile from camp.

In another week the survey party is ready to break camp for return journey.

Accompanied by Karl Ludwig, Oswald visits the graves of the highwaymen and places thereon bunches of wild flowers gathered from slope of the Himalayas. Karl laughs at this whim of the Englishman.

"Vot sendimendals! Bud id vill nod hurdt you, und der flowers vitter any vay."

Karl's arm was "in evidence."

Both returned to camp, and soon all were on the road for Calcutta.