In front they saw the tall steel tower, the roofs of the huts. They sensed the desolation.
Keith took Daak over his shoulder. For ten minutes he stumbled with the burden. Then he stopped. Not because it was D’Aran’s turn to shoulder the professor. Not because he was unduly exhausted.
But because he saw the circle of barbed wire which surrounded the tower. And within the perimeter, the ruffled earth which could mean a minefield.
Slowly, Keith put the professor down. Then he said: “How are we going to get through that?”
D’Aran was smiling. “We are not, legionnaire, we are not! I think we might get through the wire, but the minefield, never. The area is a solid mass of buried explosives! Dieu! I should have thought of this. I should have known that such a place would be protected!”
Daak got on to his haunches. Then, holding on to Keith, he got upright. He blinked in the direction of Sanna. D’Aran explained to him. When he had finished the professor’s oval face was palsied and glistening.
“You mean… I cannot get anywhere near the place!”
“That is so,” D’Aran said hoarsely. “If we had mine detectors and wire cutters we might manage it—if we had three or four days to spare. But we have not three or four days, professor. It is now eleven o’clock. We have precisely four hours.”
“You must try to get through—make a path for me!”
“Quite impossible, professor.”
“Then we must get back!”
“On foot! Are you capable of such exertion?”
“But—but we’ll die if we stay here. We’re on top of the bomb…”
D’Aran laughed.
“We’ll die if we run away. We would die if we were fifty miles from here. We might as well sit and wait. I suppose the end will be quicker for being closer.”
Daak’s face crumbled. He wept…
Wept as they squatted on the sand.
Wept as the sun rose to its zenith.
He was weeping when the Arabs came.
The Bormone traders were justly outraged. One of their number had been killed in Fort Key. Others had been wounded. And why? Because they were making a simple investigation of a seemingly deserted fort.
It was infamy without precedent!
It called for revenge against legionnaires whom they had thought were friends. Yes, the Bormones told themselves, they may have to wait. But one day they would strike against the Legion. Only in a small way, of course. The days of the great tribal revolts were over. But they would kill at least one soldier…
Meantime, they rode towards the next village to sell their wares and tell of the outrage.
Their route took them through the Sanna Oasis.
They halted their horses and mouthed their astonishment when they saw the steel tower which had never been there before.
And the circle of cruel wire. And the empty huts.
But their puzzlement changed to fury when they saw the three figures squatting near the wire. Three men. Two of them in Legion clothing.
This was indeed the working of providence! The infidels had been delivered into their hands…
They loaded their muskets.
Keith saw them first. He nudged D’Aran. Together and without much interest, they watched the horsemen approach.
D’Aran said: “We can’t do anything to save them, either. But we may have company when we die.”
Keith was shading his eyes. He said: “They look as if they mean business with those muskets… God! They do mean business! And I know why. I recognise some of them. They are the traders!”
Daak ceased weeping. The tears were dried by the impact of a new terror.
He screamed: “They’ll shoot us!”
“Almost certainly,” Keith assured him. “But I don’t suppose you have any very important plans for the future.”
Daak turned his face to the heavens in supplication. And as he did so, he became rigid. As though jerking himself out of a nightmare, he pointed to the southern sky.
“Look! Look!”
They followed ‘the direction of his trembling finger. And at the same moment they heard a steady, droning sound. The sound of piston engines.
Then they discerned the plane. It was high in the brassy sky.
The tribesmen saw it at the same time. They halted uncertainly, for they had seldom seen such monsters. They decided to move away. Vengeance could wait.
But one of them decided otherwise. He was a young Bormone who had only lately acquired his musket. He wanted to use it. He aimed it at the kneeling figure of D’Aran then pulled the rusty trigger, As he rode after the others he saw a man fall and was satisfied.
A ball shot had entered Daak’s defective heart.
The plane was a light bomber. It dipped low over the proving ground while D’Aran and Keith waved. Then it swooped away to the north and disappeared.
“It’s gone,” Keith whispered. “They didn’t see us…”
“It’ll be back,” D’Aran said. “It must come back. And I know why it is here. There is only one explanation.”
“Yes? What is it?”
“It is making a final reconnaissance of the proving ground before the explosion. I think we are saved, man ami…”
Five minutes later the plane landed and taxied towards them. The side door opened and a couple of baffled men in pale blue uniforms stood in the opening.
“Sacre!” one of them said. “What are you doing? Where are you from?”
They did not answer until they were inside the plane.
Epilogue
The adjutant shook D’Aran’s hand.
“Glad to see you back,” he said. “You very nearly didn’t come back.”
D’Aran nodded. There was nothing to say. The humiliation was coming now. This was merely a courteous preface.
“The explosion was successful, too—even though it had to be delayed a few days until we evacuated the area.”
Another nod
The adjutant tapped his desk with his fingers. “How old are you, lieutenant?”
“Er—twenty-two.”
“Twenty-two. A good age, mon ami. A good age to seek experience, don’t you think?”
“Ah, oui, I suppose so.”
“With women, of course.”
Now it was coming! The old fool was trying to lead up to it gently! But inside himself, he’ll be laughing, D’Aran thought. What does he know of temptation? He didn’t have to fight for a scholarship to St. Maixent! He’d never known poverty! He could meet a tramp like Lucinne every night and never suffer for it, as Lieutenant D’Aran was about to suffer!
The adjutant continued after a pause: “But with the ladies one must use discretion.”
“I realise that—now.”
“Yet we all are indiscreet at times. We learn by our mistakes.”
Dieu! When was he going to reach the point? Why did the fool have to bleat platitudes. It didn’t make it any easier.
“Sometimes we learn too late, major.”
“Perhaps. But not always. Anyway, it is an academic matter. Let us get down to business…”
He shuffled with some papers, putting them into precise order. Then: “You will, I hope, continue with your appointment as treasurer of the mess funds.”
“I—I…”
“Oui, I thought you would, lieutenant. Now there is one other small matter. Strictly between ourselves, of course. It’s about that fifty thousand francs you borrowed from me. Don’t worry about it. Repay when it is convenient…”