to be done? We're certainly not going to desert. I wonder if one could possibly persuade the gentle Lejaune that there's no such thing as a diamond in Zinderneuf?"
"What--pretend you hid it and left it--at Sidi-bel-Abbès?" said Bolidar. "That's an idea! . . ."
Michael laughed.
"Did you leave it at Sidi?" asked Bolidar.
"I most certainly have not got a diamond here," replied Michael.
"Do you swear it by the name of God? By your faith in Christ? By your love of the Blessed Virgin? And by your hope for the intercession of the Holy Saints?" asked Bolidar.
"Not in the least," replied Michael. "I merely say it. I have not got a diamond--'Word of an Englishman.'"
"It's a chance," whispered Bolidar. "Dear Christ! It's a chance. Oh, lovely Christ, help me! . . . I'll tell Lejaune you left it at Sidi."
"Tell him what you like," said Michael.
Bolidar pondered.
"Huh! Anyhow, he'll make sure you haven't got it," he said darkly, and rose to his feet. "But I'll try it. I'll try it. There is a small hope. . . . I'll tell you what he says," he added.
"You'll tell us something, I've no doubt," replied Michael, as the heroic Portuguese took up his pails and slunk off.
§7.
"Well, my son--a bit involved, what?" smiled my brother as we were left in solitude.
"What can one do?" I asked feebly.
"Nothing," replied Michael promptly and cheerfully. "Just await events and do the straight thing. I'm not going to bunk. And I'm not going to join any beastly conspiracy. But I think I'm going to 'beat Bolidar to the draw' as Hank and Buddy would say--when he tries to cover me with his rifle."
"In other words, you're going to shoot friend Bolidar before friend Bolidar shoots you?" I said.
"That's it, my son. If he's cur enough to do a dirty murder like that, just because Lejaune tells him to, he must take his little risks," replied Michael.
"And if that happens--I mean if I see him cover you and you shoot him--Lejaune is going with him. It is as much Lejaune's murder as it is Bolidar's," I said.
"You're going to shoot Lejaune, eh?" asked Michael.
"I am," said I, "if Bolidar covers you. Why should he cover you, in particular, out of a score or so of men, unless he has been told to shoot you?"
"Well--we'll tell Bolidar just what's going to happen, and we'll invite him to tell Lejaune too. It would be fairer, perhaps," said Michael.
"Golly," I observed. "Won't it make the lad gibber! One more slayer on his track!"
"Yes," smiled Michael. "Then he'll know that if neither Lejaune nor Boldini nor Schwartz kills him, I shall. Poor old Bolidar. . . ."
"What about poor old us?" I asked.
"We're for it, I should say," replied Michael. "Of course, Lejaune won't believe that this wonderful diamond they are talking about has been left at Sidi, and he'll carry on."
"I'm muddled," I groaned. "Let's get it clear now:
"One: We tell Schwartz we won't join his gang, and that we will warn Lejaune of the plot to murder him . . ."
"Or shall we tell Schwartz that Lejaune knows all about it?" Michael interrupted.
"Good Lord, I'd forgotten that," I said. "I suppose we'd better."
"Then they'll crucify poor old Bolidar for good, this time," grinned Michael. "Serve him right too. Teach him not to go about murdering to order . . . ."
"We need not say who told us that Lejaune knows," I observed.
"And then they will know that you and I are beastly traitors!" said Michael. "Of course, they will at once think that we told him ourselves."
"Probably Guantaio has told them that, and done it himself, meanwhile," I suggested.
"Oh, damn it all--let's talk about something else," groaned Michael. "I'm sick of their silly games."
"Yes, old chap. But it's pretty serious," I said. "Let me just go over it again:
"One: We tell Schwartz that we won't join his gang. And that Lejaune knows all about his plot.
"Two: Lejaune acts before Schwartz does, and he raids the barrack-room the night before the mutiny. We shall either be in bed as though mutineers, or we shall be ordered to join the guard of loyal men who are to arrest the mutineers.
"Three: In either case, Bolidar is to shoot you. But directly he raises his rifle in your direction, you are going to shoot him. (You'll have to take your rifle to bed with you if Lejaune is going to pretend that you are a mutineer.)
"Four: If I see that Bolidar is out to murder you, I shall shoot Lejaune myself. (I shall take my rifle to bed too, if we are left with the mutineers.)
"Five: If . . ."
"Five: The fat will be in the fire, nicely, then," interrupted Michael. "What can we do but bolt into the desert with the rest, if you kill Lejaune? You'd be the most badly-wanted of all the badly-wanted mutineers, after that. . . . They'd get us too, if they had to turn out a desert-column of all arms. . . ."
We pondered the delightful situation.
"Besides," Michael went on, "you couldn't do it. Of course you couldn't. It would be a different thing if Lejaune were raising a rifle to shoot you, as Bolidar will be doing to me, if I shoot Bolidar. You couldn't just blow Lejaune's head off, in cold blood. That is exactly what Schwartz is going to do. . . . And what we object to."
And it was so, of course. I might just as well go to Schwartz and offer to be the butcher.
"Well," said I, "suppose I cover Lejaune with my rifle and tell him I'll blow his head off the moment he moves--and then I tell him to . . ."
"Consider himself under arrest?" jeered Michael. "And what are you then, but the rankest mutineer of the lot? Besides, it's quite likely that Lejaune won't be there. He's brave enough--but he'd like to survive the show. In fact, he intends to be the sole survivor, I should say."
"Looks as though we've simply got to join Schwartz then," I said.
"Damned if I do," replied Michael. "I'm certainly going bald-headed for anyone who goes for me, but I'm not going to join any mutineers, nor commit any murders."
"Nor are you," he added, as I stared glumly out into the desert.
"What is to be done then?" I asked once again.
"Nothing, I tell you," repeated Michael. "We've got to 'jump lively when we do jump,' as Buddy says; but we can only wait on events and do what's best, as they arise. Meanwhile, let's hold polite converse with the merry Schwartz. . . . Come on."
