Trevelyan’s two mess companions who had been with Stewart in the "row" where he had won his mention, imbibed something of Trevelyan’s spirits, and they laughed at the dust, in their turn, and the heat, as they rode from the military station to welcome back their old comrade.
They saw him long before the train had come to a dead stop and they cheered him now, in the desolate little way-station, remembering how they had cheered him that day, but it was only Trevelyan’s bronzed face that Stewart saw as he descended.
"Hello, Bobby," he said, slapping him on the back, "You see I’ve come."
Trevelyan looked at him queerly for a moment in silence.
"I knew you would. You’re a—" he broke off and turned away, and the officers and men wondered what had become of Trevelyan’s spirits during the return trip.
Trevelyan sat up late into the night with Stewart, listening while he told of England and the home people. Once or twice Stewart mentioned Cary.
"Of course there isn’t anything to say to you about—your leaving England and—and all that—to come to me out here in this devilish hole—" he began disjointedly, "but it’s only fair to try to say something. The fellows and the men can tell you I’ve been a different chap since I heard of the transfer. When I left England, and for all this year, well—I haven’t much cared what happened. Out here—the loneliness without her—"
Young Stewart of the Engineers stood still in the middle of his quarters, listening to Trevelyan’s footsteps growing fainter. Presently they were lost in the silence of the Indian night. Now and again came sounds from the jungle, but Stewart stood motionless.
Suddenly he flung his right arm across his forehead.
And Cary, sleepless in far-away England, watched the sun rise, wondering what made the nights so long.
Trevelyan’s excitement over Stewart’s coming died away as one monotonous week followed another, and he became more moody than before. Stewart tried to draw him into the life of the station, and the pastimes by which the officers and men helped to kill the long inactive days, but Trevelyan steadily refused to be won from his taciturnity. A few used to laugh at Stewart for his pains, but the majority of the mess, grew, while watching his struggle for Trevelyan, to know him better and to appreciate him more. Before, to a few, young Stewart of the Engineers had been a man with a good name; to the most of them he had been unknown, but, aside from his devotion to Trevelyan, his knowledge of surveying and military niceties, his genial spirit and his unfailing patience, won for him the distinct approval of the officers and the absolute adoration of the rank and file.