ning over on the sugar. He was dead.

For six months, since the disappearance of this sympathetic old
tippler, the Powers had not seemed to interest themselves in finding
his successor. I had even hoped at times that a decision might be
reached investing me with the rights that I was in fact exercising....
And today this surprising appointment.

Captain de Saint-Avit. He was of my class at St. Cyr. I had lost track
of him. Then my attention had been attracted to him by his rapid
advancement, his decoration, the well-deserved recognition of three
particularly daring expeditions of exploration to Tebesti and the Air;
and suddenly, the mysterious drama of his fourth expedition, that
famous mission undertaken with Captain Morhange, from which only one
of the explorers came back. Everything is forgotten quickly in France.
That was at least six years ago. I had not heard Saint-Avit mentioned
since. I had even supposed that he had left the army. And now, I was
to have him as my chief.

"After all, what's the difference," I mused, "he or another! At school
he was charming, and we have had only the most pleasant relationships.
Besides, I haven't enough yearly income to afford the rank of
Captain."

And I left the office, whistling as I went.

* * * * *

We were now, Chatelain and I, our guns resting on the already cooling
earth, beside the pool that forms the center of the meager oasis,
hidden behind a kind of hedge of alfa. The setting sun was reddening
the stagnant ditches which irrigate the poor garden plots of the
sedentary blacks.

Not a word during the approach. Not a word during the shoot. Chatelain
was obviously sulking.

In silence we knocked down, one after the other, several of the
miserable doves which came on dragging wings, heavy with the heat of
the day, to quench their thirst at the thick green water. When a
half-dozen slaughtered little bodies were lined up at our feet I put
my hand on the Sergeant's shoulder.

"Chatelain!"

He trembled.

"Chatelain, I was rude to you a little while ago. Don't be angry. It
was the bad time before the siesta. The bad time of midday."

"The Lieutenant is master here," he answered in a tone that was meant
to be gruff, but which was only strained.

"Chatelain, don't be angry. You have something to say to me. You know
what I mean."

"I don't know really. No, I don't know."

"Chatelain, Chatelain, why not be sensible? Tell me somethi