d quietly. "Don't be. We'll make out."

She shook her head and looked up at him, drawing away as if to scan
his face more closely.

"I am thinking," she said almost harshly, "of biology. I wonder--"

Bell waited. He felt an intolerable strain in her tensed figure. He
put his hand comfortingly over hers. And, astoundingly, he found it
trembling.

"Are all women fools?" she demanded in a desperate cynicism. "Are we
all imbeciles? Are--"

Bell's pulse pounded suddenly. He smiled.

"Not unless men are imbeciles too," he said dryly. "We've been through
a lot in the past two days. It's natural that we should like each
other. We've worked together rather well. I--well"--his smile was
distinctly a wry and uncomfortable one--"I've been the more anxious to
get to some civilized place where The Master hasn't a deputy
because--well--it wouldn't be fair to talk about loving you while--"
he shrugged, and said curtly, "while you had no choice but to listen."

* * * * *

She stared at him, there in the moonlight with the jungle moving about
its business of life and death about them. And very, very slowly the
tenseness left her figure. And very, very slowly she smiled.

"Perhaps," she said quietly, "you are lying to me, Charles. Perhaps.
But it is a very honorable thing for you to say. I am not ashamed,
now, of feeling that I wish to be always near you."

"Hush!" said Bell. He put his arm about her shoulder and drew her
closer to him. He tilted her face upward. It was oval and quite
irresistibly pretty. "I love you," said Bell steadily. "I've been
fighting it since God knows when, and I'm going to keep on fighting
it--and it's no use. I'm going to keep on loving you until I die."

Her fingers closed tightly upon his. Bell kissed her.

"Now," he said gruffly, "go to sleep."

He pressed her head upon his shoulder and kept it there. After a long
time she slept. He stirred, much later, and she opened her eyes again.

"What is it?"

"Damn these mosquitos," growled Bell. "I can't keep them off your
face!"

CHAPTER X

For four hours after sunrise Bell worked desperately. With the few and
inadequate tools in the plane he took apart the oiling system of the
motor. It was in duplicate, of course, like all modern air engines,
and there were three magnetos, and double spark plugs. Bell drained
the crankcase beneath a sun that grew more and more hot and
blistering, catching the oil in a gasoline