I was not _happy_, Soldier! Only a little homesick and
tired."

"Come with me to my tent," Max said, realizing that all his persuasions
would be in vain. "Come quietly now, and I'll explain to--to Stanton."

"He knows I feel ill," she answered. "I told him. He will understand."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE ONLY FRIEND

When Stanton returned to his tent and found it empty he went out quickly
again and called for St. George.

This was one of the few possibilities of which Max had not thought. He
had imagined Stanton remaining sullenly in his tent as if nothing had
happened, or searching for Sanda and ordering, perhaps even forcing, her
to go back with him. In that eventuality, and that only, Max intended to
interfere. One side of his nature, the violent and uncontrolled side,
which every real man has in him, wanted to "smash" Stanton; yearned for
an excuse perhaps even to kill him and rid Sanda forever of a brute, no
matter what the consequences to himself. But the side of him where
common sense had taken refuge wished to keep neutral for Sanda's sake,
in order to watch over her and protect her through everything. When he
heard Stanton's call he was not far from the tent he had lent Sanda.
She, and everything of hers which she could need for the night, was
already there, but she had not lighted the candle he had given her. The
little khaki-coloured tent was an inconspicuous object in sand of the
same colour. Making an excuse of settling a dispute between two camels
which disturbed the peace, Max had kept near the tent, and intended,
unobtrusively, to play sentinel all night.

He answered the "Chief's" call on the instant, braced for any emergency.

"St. George, do you know where my wife is?" Stanton asked.

"She told me she felt ill, and that you wouldn't object to my lending
her my tent," answered Max promptly.

"I felt sure she'd go to _you_," said Stanton, without the signs of
anger Max expected. Then still greater was the younger man's surprise
when the elder laughed. It was a slightly embarrassed laugh, but not
ill-natured. "What else did she tell you?" Stanton wanted to know.

"She _told_ me--nothing else." To save his life, Max could not resist
that telltale emphasis which flung a challenge.

Stanton laughed again and thrust his hands deep into his pockets.

"I see you've drawn your own conclusions. Fact is, St. George, I'm in a
deuce of a damned scrape, and the only bit of luck is having a sensible
c