his heels. . . ."
This was getting dreadful.
"I did not carry it down, as I carried Beau. I took it by one foot and dragged it down. . . ."
"Lejaune?" I whispered.
"Yes, John. Lejaune--with your bayonet through his heart. He won't give dumb evidence against you--and Beau had his 'Viking's Funeral' with a dog at his feet. . . ."
I think I felt worse then than I had felt since Michael died. I gave Digby a sharp nudge in the ribs with my elbows.
"Get on with it and don't drivel," I said as though in anger.
"Where was I?" said Digby, in the tone of a man waking from a nap.
"Oh, yes. And when all was ready, John, I sat and talked to Beau and told him I hadn't the faintest idea as to what he'd been up to in this 'Blue Water' business, but what I did know was that, far from being anything shady, it was something quixotic and noble. . . . And then what do you think I did, John? . . . I fell asleep--and slept till the evening. . . .
"I was a bit more my own man when I woke up. I went up on the roof to see what was doing. . . . Creeping to the wall and peeping over, I saw that the Company was parading, and that I had cut it very fine. I thanked God that I had awakened in time, for in a few minutes they would be marching in, to clean up and take over.
"I crept back and set fire to Beau's funeral pyre. Then I rushed off and poured a can of oil over the pile of benches and furniture that I had heaped up in the next room. I set light to that and knocked another can over at the foot of the stairs. I lit it and bolted up to the stair of the look-out platform. At the bottom of this, I did the same, and by that time it would have taken more water than there is in the Sahara to put the place out. . . . I decided that Beau's funeral was all right, the evidence against you destroyed, and the time arrived for me to clear out. . . ."
He yawned prodigiously.
"So I came to look for you, John. . . . To look for . . . for . . ."
Digby was asleep.
Should I go to sleep too? The temptation was sore. But I felt that if we were to save ourselves, we must do it at once. We could hardly hope to lie there all night and escape detection in the morning, when the place would be swarming with scouts and skirmishers.
I decided to watch for an hour or two, while poor Digby slept. At the end of that time I would wake him and say that I was going to make the attempt to get a camel. . . .
It was extraordinarily silent. . . . It seemed impossible that the oasis, lying there so black and still, was alive with armed men. Even the camels and mules were behaving as though aware that the night was unusual. Not a grunting gurgle from the one or a whinnying bray from the other broke the brooding stillness of the night. I wondered if every man had been made responsible for the silence of his own animal, and had muzzled and gagged it. I smiled at the idea.
Not a light showed. Was the idea to make the smouldering fort a bait for the Arabs whom de Beaujolais would suppose to be in the neighbourhood--a bait to attract them to his lead-and-steel-fanged trap? . . .
How would it be possible, after all, for me to approach that silvered black oasis, across the moonlit sands, without being challenged, seized, and exposed for what I was? I had anticipated approaching a normal, somnolent camp--not a tensely watchful look-out post, such as the oasis had become from the time Digby and I had fired our rifles.
Would it be better, after all, to sleep all night and try to bluff the camel-guard on the morrow, when the whole place would be buzzing with life and activity? It seemed a poor look-out anyway. And how bitterly one would regret not having made the attempt on foot, if one were seized in the effort to take a camel. . . .
Having decided that Digby had slept for about a couple of hours, I woke him up.
"What about it, Dig?" I said. "Are we going to have a shot at getting a camel, or are we going to march? We must do one or the other, unless you think we might do any good here by daylight. . . ."
"Oh, quite," replied Digby. "I'm sure you're right, John," and went to sleep again, in the act of speaking.
This was not exactly helpful, and I was trying to make up my mind as to whether I should give him another hour, or knock him up again at once, when I saw two camel-riders leave the oasis. I rubbed my eyes.
No. There was no doubt about it. A patrol was going out, or dispatches were being sent to Tokotu.
Here were two camels. Two well-fed, well-watered camels were coming towards us.
I did not for one moment entertain the thought of shooting their riders, but I certainly toyed for a moment with the idea of offering to fight them, fair and square, for their beasts! If we won, we should ride off and they would tramp back to the oasis. If they won, they'd continue about their business and we should be where we were. . . . A silly notion. . . . About two seconds after revealing ourselves, we should be looking into the muzzles of their rifles, and have the option of death or ignominious capture. . . . Why should they fight us? . . . I must really pull myself together and remember who I was and where I was. . . .
The camels drew nearer and I decided, from their direction, they were on the way to Tokotu.
I crawled down the reverse slope of my sand-hill and ran along the valley at its base. Climbing another hillock, I saw that a repetition of the manoeuvre would bring me on to their line. I did not know what I was going to do when I got there, but I felt there would be no harm in trying to find out who they were and where they were going. If we followed them and got a chance to steal their camels while they were not too far from the oasis to return on foot, I had an idea that we might take that chance. The temptation would be very strong, as it was a matter of life and death to us, while to them it would be merely a matter of a long day's march and a fearful tale of terrific combat with the horde of Arabs who had shot their camels. . . .
Suddenly a well-known voice remarked conversationally:
"We sure gotta put them nigs wise, Buddy. . . . We don' want nawthen to eventooate to the pore boobs through us not taking 'em by the hand. . . ."
"Hank!" I yelped in glee and thankfulness, and he and Buddy turned their camels towards me.
"Here's one of the mystery boys, anyhow," went on Hank. "I allowed as how you'd be around somewheres when we see you all three gone missin' from the old home. . . ."
In a valley between two sand-hills, Hank and Buddy brought their camels to their knees and dismounted. Both wrung my hand in a painful and most delightful manner.
"No offence, and excusin' a personal and dellikit question, Bo," said Buddy, "but was it you as had the accident with the cigar-lighter an' kinder caused arsonical proceedins? . . ."
"Sort of 'arson about' with matches like?" put in Hank solemnly.
"No," I said. "It was Digby set fire to the fort."
"Then I would shore like to shake him by the hand, some," said Hank. "Is he around?"
"Having a nap over there," I replied.
"The other bright boy too?" asked Buddy. "An' where's Lejaune? Havin' set fire to the home, hev you taken Poppa by the ear an' led him out into the garden for to
