that lot will join us, we can probably turn Schwartz's murder-party into a mere gang of ordinary deserters, if go they must. . . ."
Shortly afterwards, St. André, looking for us, came to where we were sitting.
"I've spoken to Maris," said he, "and he's with you two, heart and soul. I also sounded Marigny, but he takes the line that we can't possibly be such curs as to warn the unspeakable Lejaune and betray our own comrades."
"We can't be such curs as not to do so," said Michael.
"Precisely what I tried to make him see," replied St. André. "It's a question of the point of view and of the degree of mental and moral development. . . . To us it is unthinkable that we should stand by and see murder done, the regiment disgraced, the Flag betrayed, and the fort imperilled. . . . We are soldiers of France. . . ."
He stood up and saluted dramatically, but not self-consciously, in the direction of the flagstaff.
"To Marigny and his kind," he went on, "it is just as unthinkable that, having been entrusted with a secret by a comrade, they should betray this secret and thwart and endanger the friends who have put their faith in them."
"The point of view, as you say," agreed Michael. "Personally, though, I've not been entrusted with a secret by a comrade. I have merely had a threatening and impudent message from a ruffianly blackguard named Schwartz. He tells me he is going to commit a murder. I reply that he is not going to commit a murder, and that unless he abandons the intention, I am going to warn his victim. That seems a clear issue to me."
"And to me," said St. André.
"I also found Blanc to be much of the same mind as Marigny," he went on. "Averse from promoting or even condoning murder, but even more averse from 'betraying' his comrades. . . . I've only spoken to those three so far. . . ."
"Well, look here," said Michael. "To-morrow at six, beyond the oasis. All our friends and all who are not actually of Schwartz's gang. You get Marigny, Blanc, and Cordier, and any other Frenchman you think might join us, and we'll bring Maris, Ramon, Dobroff, and Glock, and possibly one or two more. They'll come. . . . They'll come, because, obviously, it's a life-or-death matter for all of us. We must try to see that none of Schwartz's gang know about the meeting, at any rate until it's over--but if they do, we can't help it. I suppose we have as much right to lay plans as they have?"
"It's a good idea," agreed St. André. "I'll be there and bring whom I can. About six o'clock."
§5.
Next evening, a handful of the better sort assembled near the shaduf in the shade of the palm-grove, out of sight of the fort. Besides Michael, St. André, Maris, and myself, there were Cordier, Blanc, Marigny, Ramon, Dobroff, Glock, Vaerren, and one or two others--fifteen or sixteen of us altogether--enough, as Michael remarked to me, to control events, provided a united party, with a common policy, could be formed.
But this proved impossible. Ideas of right and wrong, honour and dishonour, fair dealing and vile dealing, were too discrepant and probably tinctured by other thoughts and motives, such as those of fear, hatred, ennui, vengeance, and despair.
Michael addressed the meeting first.
"As you all very well know," said he, "there is a plot to murder Lejaune and the non-coms., to desert and to abandon the fort. Schwartz is the ringleader and says that those who do not declare themselves supporters will be considered as enemies--and treated as such. Personally, I do not do things because Schwartz says I must, nor do I approve of shooting men in their beds. Supposing I did, I still should disapprove of being led out into the desert by Schwartz, to die of thirst. Therefore I am against his plot--and I invite you all to join with me and tell Schwartz so. We'll tell him plainly that unless he gives up this mad scheme of murder and mutiny, we shall warn Lejaune. . . ."
Here a growl of disapproval from Marigny and Blanc, and some vigorous head-shaking, interrupted Michael's speech.
"I swear I will warn Lejaune," put in St. André, "but I will warn Schwartz first--and if he likes to drop the murder part of the scheme, he can do what else he likes. Any sacred imbecile who wants to die in the desert can go and do it, but I have nothing to do with mutinies. . . ."
"No treachery!" roared Marigny, a typical old soldier, grizzled and wrinkled; an honest, brainless, dogged creature who admired Schwartz and loathed Lejaune.
"Don't bray like that, my good ass," said Michael turning to him, "and try not to be a bigger fool than God meant you to. Where is the treachery in our replying to Schwartz, 'Thank you, we do not choose to join your murder-gang. Moreover, we intend to prevent the murder--so drop the idea at once.' Will you kindly explain how the gentle Schwartz is thus 'betrayed'?"
"I say it is betrayal of comrades--to tell an anointed, accursed, nameless-named dog's-tail like Lejaune that they are plotting against him. Treachery, I say," replied Marigny.
Michael sighed patiently.
"Well--what are you going to do, Marigny--since you must either be against Schwartz or for him?" asked Maris.
"I'm for him," replied Marigny promptly.
"A slinking, skulking murderer?" asked Michael contemptuously. "I thought you were a soldier--of sorts."
"I'm for Schwartz," said Marigny.
"Then go to him," snapped Michael. "Go on. . . . Get out. . . . We should prefer it--being neither cowards afraid of Schwartz, nor creeping murderers."
Marigny flushed, clenched his fists and, with an oath, put his hand to his bayonet and made as though to spring at my brother; but he evidently thought better of it as Michael closed his right hand and regarded the point of Marigny's chin.
With a snarl of "Dirty traitors!" the old soldier turned and strode away.
"Anybody else think as he does?" asked Michael.
"I can't agree to betraying old Schwartz," said Blanc, a Marseilles seaman, noisy, jolly, brave, and debonair; a rotund, black-eyed, bluff Provençal.
"Well--say what you are going to do then," said Michael sharply. "Join Schwartz's murderers or else join us."
"I can't join Lejaune's boot-lickers," said Blanc.
"Then join Schwartz's gang of assassins. You may perhaps be safer there," said Michael, and Blanc departed grumbling.
"I must join my compatriots, I'm afraid," said Glock.
"You are 'afraid'!" mocked Michael. "You have said it! It is Schwartz you are afraid of. You needn't be. You'll be safer outside that gang of murderers."
"I can't betray my compatriots," repeated Glock.
"Well--can you go to them and say--(what is the truth)--'I don't believe in murder and I am certain this business will end in the deaths of all of us. Drop it or I and my friends will make you.' Can you do that?" asked Michael.
Big, simple Glock, with his blue eyes and silly face, could only scratch his head and shuffle awkwardly from one foot to another.
"They'd kill me," he said.
"They certainly will kill you of thirst, if you let them lead you
