out of the
tent, Sanda had started to run. She had gone away from the direction of
the dying fire, in front of which the men of the caravan still squatted,
and had taken the track that led toward the oasis. There was a narrow
strip of desert to be crossed, and then a sudden descent over rocks,
down to an _oued_ or river-bed, which gave water to the mud village high
up on the other side. This was the way the oasis dwellers had taken
after a visit of curiosity to the camp; and as the night was bright and
not cold, some might still be lingering in the _oued_, bathing their
feet in the little stream of running water among the smooth, round
stones. Max followed the footprints, but lost them on the rocks, and
would have passed Sanda if a voice had not called him softly.

The girl had found a seat for herself in deep shadow on a small plateau
between two jutting masses of sandstone.

"I saw you," she said as he stopped. "I wondered if you would come and
look for me."

"Weren't you sure?" he asked. "When I found the tent-pegs up, I knew
you'd gone; and I followed the footprints, because it's not safe for you
to be out in the night alone."

"Safer than in my tent, if he----" she began breathlessly, then checked
herself in haste. She was silent for a minute, looking up at Max, who
had come to a stand on the edge of her little platform. Then, for the
first time since she had begged him to join the caravan instead of going
back to Bel-Abbes, she broke down and cried bitterly.

"What am I to do, Soldier?" she sobbed. "You know--I never told you
anything, but--you _know_ how it is with me?"

"I know," said Max.

"I've been always hoping I should die somehow, and--and that would make
an end," the girl wept. "Other people have died since we have started:
three strong men and a woman, one from a viper's bite and the others
with fever. But I can't die! Soldier, you never _let_ me die!"

"I don't mean to!" Max tried to force a ring of cheerfulness into his
voice, though black despair filled his heart. "You've got to live
for--your father."

"I hope I shall never see him again!" she cried sharply. "He'd know the
instant he looked into my eyes that I was unhappy. I couldn't bear it.
Oh, Soldier, if only I had let you take me back when you begged to, even
as late as that morning--before Father Dupre came out from Touggourt.
But it makes things worse to think of that now--of what might have
been!"

"Let's think of what will be,