were enough--there
would be no fighting; but the Legion hoped it might not be enough. To be
the regiment ordered to give this warning was in itself an honour, for
wherever work is hardest there the Legion goes. The Legion must sustain
its reputation, such as it is! Desperate men, bad men, let them be
called by civilians in times of peace, but give them fighting and they
are the glorious soldiers who never turn back, who, even when they fall
in death, fall forward as they rush upon the enemy. All the world knew
that of them, and they knew it of themselves. They knew, also, that when
the moment of starting came men of Sidi-bel-Abbes who drew away from
them in the streets and the Place Carnot would take off their hats as
the Legion went by. It would be "Vive la Legion!" then.

With each day of burning heat the excitement grew more feverish. Surely
this morning, or this night, the order would come! The soldiers whistled
as they polished their accoutrements, whistled half beneath their breath
the "March of the Legion" which the band is forbidden to play in
garrison. Quarrels were forgotten. Men who had not spoken to each other
for weeks grinned in each other's faces and offered one another their
cheap but treasured cigarettes.

Almost every one seemed to be happy except Garcia. He was among those
who would not be taken on the march--he, who craved and needed to go, as
did no other man in the Legion! Max feared Garcia meant to kill himself
the night when he lost hope, and would not let him go out alone to walk
in the darkness. "I don't want to ask if you have any plans," he said.
"But there's one thing I do ask: share with me the money I've got left.
You may need it. I shan't. And if you'll take it, that'll be proof that
you think as much of me as I do of you."

Garcia took it, from the wallet which a man now lying in the hospital
had tried to empty the other night. Then Max knew for certain what the
queer light in Manoeel's eyes meant. He could not help a rejoicing thrill
in the other's desperate courage which no obstacle had crushed.

That same night, when the two had separated (St. George reassured, and
believing that Garcia had use for his life after all), Max met Colonel
DeLisle face to face, for the first time alone and unofficially since
they had parted in the Salle d'Honneur. The colonel was walking
unaccompanied, in the street not far from the little garden of the
officers' club, where the band was to give a conc