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diff --git a/41652.txt b/41652.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1eef929..0000000 --- a/41652.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10599 +0,0 @@ - THE WAGES OF VIRTUE - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: The Wages of Virtue -Author: Percival Christopher Wren -Release Date: December 17, 2012 [EBook #41652] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAGES OF VIRTUE *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - - - THE - WAGES OF VIRTUE - - - BY - PERCIVAL CHRISTOPHER WREN - - - - LONDON - JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET - - - - -FIRST EDITION . . . November, 1916 -Reprinted . . . . . December, 1916 -Reprinted . . . . . May, 1917 -Reprinted . . . . . September, 1917 -Reprinted (2/-) . . January, 1920 -Reprinted (3/6) . . April, 1925 -Reprinted . . . . . September, 1925 -Reprinted (2/-) . . November, 1925 -Reprinted (3/6) . . December, 1925 -Reprinted . . . . . March, 1926 -Reprinted (2/-) . . August, 1926 -Reprinted (3/6) . . October, 1926 -Reprinted (2/-) . . January, 1927 -Reprinted (3/6) . . March, 1927 -Reprinted (2/-) . . March, 1927 -Reprinted (2/-) . . June, 1927 -Reprinted (3/6) . . June, 1927 -Reprinted (2/-) . . February, 1928 -Reprinted (3/6) . . May, 1928 - - - -_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - -BEAU GESTE -BEAU SABREUR -THE WAGES OF VIRTUE -STEPSONS OF FRANCE -THE SNAKE AND THE SWORD -FATHER GREGORY -DEW AND MILDEW -DRIFTWOOD SPARS -THE YOUNG STAGERS - - - - _All rights reserved_ - - - - - TO - THE CHARMINGEST WOMAN - - - - - CONTENTS - - -Prologue - - I. Soap and Sir Montague Merline - II. A Barrack-Room of the Legion - III. Carmelita et Cie - IV. The Canteen of the Legion - V. The Trivial Round - VI. Le Cafard and Other Things - VII. The Sheep in Wolf's Clothing - VIII. The Temptation of Sir Montague Merline - IX. The Cafe and the Canteen - X. The Wages of Sin - XI. Greater Love... - -Epilogue - - - - -"Vivandiere du regiment, -C'est Catin qu'on me nomme; -Je vends, je donne, je bois gaiment, -Mon vin et mon rogomme; -J'ai le pied leste et l'oeil mutin, -Tintin, tintin, tintin, r'lin tintin, -Soldats, voila Catin! - -"Je fus chere a tous nos heros; -Helas! combien j'en pleure, -Ainsi soldats et generaux -Me comblaient a tout heure -D'amour, de gloire et de butin, -Tintin, tintin, tintin, r'lin tintin -D'amour, de gloire et de butin, -Soldats, voila Catin!" - -BERANGER. - - - - - PROLOGUE - - -Lord Huntingten emerged from his little green tent, and strolled over to -where Captain Strong, of the Queen's African Rifles, sat in the -"drawing-room." The drawing-room was the space under a cedar fir and -was furnished with four Roorkee chairs of green canvas and white wood, -and a waterproof ground-sheet. - -"I do wish the Merlines would roll up," he said. "I want my dinner." - -"Not dinner time yet," remarked Captain Strong. "Hungry?" - -"No," answered Lord Huntingten almost snappishly. Captain Strong -smiled. How old Reggie Huntingten always gave himself away! It was the -safe return of Lady Merline that he wanted. - -Captain Strong, although a soldier, the conditions of whose life were -almost those of perpetual Active Service, was a student--and -particularly a student of human nature. Throughout a life of great -activity he found, and made, much opportunity for sitting in the stalls -of the Theatre of Life and enjoying the Human Comedy. This East African -shooting-trip with Lord Huntingten, Sir Montague, and Lady Merline, was -affording him great entertainment, inasmuch as Huntingten had fallen in -love with Lady Merline and did not know it. Lady Merline was falling in -love with Huntingten and knew it only too well, and Merline loved them -both. That there would be no sort or kind of "denouement," in the -vulgar sense, Captain Strong was well and gladly aware--for Huntingten -was as honourable a man as ever lived, and Lady Merline just as -admirable. No saner, wiser, nor better woman had Strong ever met, nor -any as well balanced. Had there been any possibility of "developments," -trouble, and the usual fiasco of scandal and the Divorce Court, he would -have taken an early opportunity of leaving the party and rejoining his -company at Mombasa. For Lord Huntingten was his school, Sandhurst and -lifelong friend, while Merline was his brother-in-arms and comrade of -many an unrecorded, nameless expedition, foray, skirmish, fight and -adventure. - -"Merline shouldn't keep her out after dusk like this," continued Lord -Huntingten. "After all, Africa's Africa and a woman's a woman." - -"And Merline's Merline," added Strong with a faint hint of reproof. -Lord Huntingten grunted, arose, and strode up and down. A fine -upstanding figure of a man in the exceedingly becoming garb of khaki -cord riding-breeches, well-cut high boots, brown flannel shirt and -broad-brimmed felt hat. Although his hands were small, the arms exposed -by the rolled-up shirtsleeves were those of a navvy, or a blacksmith. -The face, though tanned and wrinkled, was finely cut and undeniably -handsome, with its high-bridged nose, piercing blue eyes, fair silky -moustache and prominent chin. If, as we are sometimes informed, -impassivity and immobility of countenance are essential to aspirants for -such praise as is contained in the term "aristocratic," Lord Huntingten -was not what he himself would have described as a "starter," for never -did face more honestly portray feeling than did that of Lord Huntingten. -As a rule it was wreathed in smiles, and brightly reflected the joyous, -sunny nature of its owner. On those rare occasions when he was angered, -it was convulsed with rage, and, even before he spoke, all and sundry -were well aware that his lordship was angry. When he did speak, they -were confirmed in the belief without possibility of error. If he were -disappointed or chagrined this expressive countenance fell with such -suddenness and celerity that the fact of so great a fall being inaudible -came as a surprise to the observant witness. At that moment, as he -consulted his watch, the face of this big, generous and lovable man was -only too indicative of the fact that his soul was filled with anxiety, -resentment and annoyance. Captain Strong, watching him with malicious -affection, was reminded of a petulant baby and again of a big naughty -boy who, having been stood in the corner for half an hour, firmly -believes that the half-hour has long ago expired. Yes, he promised -himself much quiet and subtle amusement, interest and instruction from -the study of his friends and their actions and reactions during the -coming weeks. What would Huntingten do when he realised his condition -and position? Run for his life, or grin and bear it? If the former, -where would he go? If, living in Mayfair and falling in love with your -neighbour's wife, the correct thing is to go and shoot lions in East -Africa, is it, conversely, the correct thing to go and live in Mayfair -if, shooting lions in East Africa, you fall in love with your -neighbour's wife? Captain Strong smiled at his whimsicality, and showed -his interesting face at its best. A favourite remark of his was to the -effect that the world's a queer place, and life a queer, thing. It is -doubtful whether he realised exactly how queer an example of the fact -was afforded by his being a soldier in the first place, and an African -soldier in the second. When he was so obviously and completely cut out -for a philosopher and student (with relaxations in the direction of the -writing of Ibsenical-Pinerotic plays and Shavo-Wellsian novels), what -did he in that galley of strenuous living and strenuous dying? Further, -it is interesting to note that among those brave and hardy men, second -to none in keenness, resourcefulness and ability, Captain Strong was -noted for these qualities. - -A huge Swahili orderly of the Queen's African Rifles, clad in a tall -yellow tarboosh, a very long blue jersey, khaki shorts, blue puttees and -hobnail boots, approached Captain Strong and saluted. He announced that -Merline _Bwana_ was approaching, and, on Strong's replying that such -things did happen, and even with sufficient frequency to render the -widest publication of the fact unnecessary, the man informed him that -the _macouba Bwana Simba_ (the big Lion Master) had given his bearer -orders to have the approach of Merline _Bwana_ signalled and announced. - -Turning to Huntingten, Strong bade that agitated nobleman to be of good -cheer, for Merline was safe--his _askaris_ were safe--his pony was safe, -and it was even reported that all the dogs were safe. - -"Three loud cheers," observed his lordship, as his face beamed ruddily, -"but, to tell you the truth, it was of _Lady_ Merline I was thinking.... -You never know in Africa, you know...." - -Captain Strong smiled. - -Sir Montague and Lady Merline rode into camp on their Arab ponies a few -minutes later, and there was a bustle of Indian and Swahili "boys" and -bearers, about the unlacing of tents, preparing of hot baths, the taking -of ponies and guns, and the hurrying up of dinner. - -While Sir Montague gave orders concerning the _enyama_[#] for the -_safari_ servants and porters, whose virtue had merited this addition to -their _posho_[#] Lady Merline entered the "drawing-room," and once again -gladdened the heart of Lord Huntingten with her grace and beauty. He -struck an attitude, laid his hand upon his heart, and swept the ground -with his slouch hat in a most gracefully executed bow. Lady Merline, -albeit clad in brief khaki shooting-costume, puttees, tiny hobnail -boots, and brown pith helmet, returned the compliment with a Court -curtsey. - - -[#] Meat. - -[#] Food. - - -Their verbal greeting hardly sustained the dignity of the preliminaries. - -"How's Bill the Lamb?" quoth the lady. - -"How's Margarine?" was the reply. - -Their eyes interested Captain Strong more than their words. - -(Lady Merline's eyes were famous; and, beautiful as Strong had always -realised those wonderful orbs to be, he was strongly inclined to fancy -that they looked even deeper, even brighter, even more beautiful when -regarding the handsome sunny face of Lord Huntingten.) - -Sir Montague Merline joined the group. - -"Hallo, Bill! Hallo, Strong!" he remarked. "I say, Strong, what's -_marodi_, and what's _gisi_ in Somali?" - -"Same as _tembo_ and _mbogo_ in Swahili," was the reply. - -"Oh! Elephant and buffalo. Well, that one-eyed Somali blighter with -the corrugated forehead, whom Abdul brought in, says there are -both--close to Bamania over there--about thirteen miles you know." - -"He's a liar then," replied Captain Strong. - -"Swears the elephants went on the tiles all night in a _shamba_[#] -there, the day before yesterday." - - -[#] Garden. Cultivation. - - -"Might go that way, anyhow," put in Lord Huntingten. "Take him with us, -and rub his nose in it if there's nothing." - -"You're nothing if not lucid, Bill," said Lady Merline. "I'm off to -change," and added as she turned away, "I vote we go to Bamania anyhow. -There may be lemons, or mangoes, or bananas or something in the -_shamba_, if there are no elephants or buffaloes." - -"Don't imagine you are going upsetting elephants and teasing buffaloes, -young woman," cried "Bill" after her as she went to her tent. "The -elephants and buffaloes of these parts are the kind that eat English -women, and feeding the animals is forbidden...." - -It occurred to Captain Strong, that silent and observant man, that Lady -Merline's amusement at this typical specimen of the Huntingten humour -was possibly greater than it would have been had he or her husband -perpetrated it. - -"Dinner in twenty minutes, Monty," said he to Sir Montague Merline and -departed to his tent. - -"I say, Old Thing, dear," observed Lord Huntingten to the same -gentleman, as, with the tip of his little finger, he "wangled" a -soda-water bottle with a view to concocting a whiskey-and-soda. "We -won't let Marguerite have anything to do with elephant or buffalo, will -we?" - -"Good Lord, no!" was the reply. "We've promised her one pot at a lion -if we can possibly oblige, but that will have to be her limit, and, -what's more, you and I will be one each side of her when she does it." - -"Yes," agreed the other, and added, "Expect I shall know what nerves -are, when it comes off, too." - -"Fancy 'nerves' and the _Bwana Simba_," laughed Sir Montague Merline as -he held out his glass for the soda.... "Here's to Marguerite's first -lion," he continued, and the two men solemnly drank the toast. - -Sir Montague Merline struck a match for his pipe, the light illuminating -his face in the darkness which had fallen in the last few minutes. The -first impression one gathered from the face of Captain Sir Montague -Merline, of the Queen's African Rifles, was one of unusual gentleness -and kindliness. Without being in any way a weak face, it was an -essentially friendly and amiable one--a soldierly face without any hint -of that fierce, harsh and ruthless expression which is apparently -cultivated as part of their stock-in-trade by the professional soldiers -of militarist nations. A physiognomist, observing him, would not be -surprised to learn of quixotic actions and a reputation for being "such -an awful good chap--one of the best-hearted fellers that ever helped a -lame dog over a stile." So far as such a thing can be said of any -strong and honest man who does his duty, it could be said of Sir -Montague Merline that he had no enemies. Contrary to the dictum that -"He who has no enemies has no friends" was the fact that Sir Montague -Merline's friends were all who knew him. Of these, his best and closest -friend was his wife, and it had been reserved for Lord Huntingten -unconsciously to apprise her of the fact that she was this and nothing -more. Until he had left his yacht at Mombasa a few weeks before, on the -invitation of Captain Strong (issued with their cordial consent) to join -their projected shooting trip, Lady Merline had fondly imagined that she -knew what love was, and had thought herself a thoroughly happy and -contented woman. In a few days after his joining the party it seemed -that she must have loved him all her life, and that there could not -possibly be a gulf of some fifteen years between then and the childish -days when he was "Bill the Lamb" and she the unconsidered adjunct of the -nursery and schoolroom, generally addressed as "Margarine." Why had he -gone wandering about the world all these years? Why had their -re-discovery of each other had to be postponed until now? Why couldn't -he have been at home when Monty came wooing and ... When Lady Merline's -thoughts reached this point she resolutely switched them off. She was -doing a considerable amount of switching off, these last few days, and -realised that when Lord Huntingten awoke to the fact that he too must -practise this exercise, the shooting trip would have to come to an -untimely end. As she crouched over the tiny candle-lit mirror on the -_soi-disant_ dressing-table in her tent, while hastily changing for -dinner that evening, she even considered plausible ways and possible -means of terminating the trip when the inevitable day arrived. - -She was saved the trouble. - -As they sat at dinner a few minutes later, beneath the diamond-studded -velvet of the African sky--an excellent dinner of clear soup, sardines, -bustard, venison, and tinned fruit--Strong's orderly again appeared in -the near distance, saluting and holding two official letters in his -hand. These, it appeared, had just been brought by messenger from the -railway-station some nineteen miles distant. - -Captain Strong was the first to gather their import, and his feeling of -annoyance and disappointment was more due to the fact of the -interruption of his interesting little drama than to the cancellation of -his leave and return to harness. - -"Battle, Murder and Sudden Death!" he murmured. "I wish people wouldn't -kill people, and cause other people to interfere with the arrangements -of people.... Our trip's bust." - -"What is it?" asked Lady Merline. - -"Mutiny and murder down Uganda way," replied her husband, whose letter -was a duplicate. "I'm sorry, Huntingten, old chap," he added, turning -to his friend. "It's draw stumps and hop it, for Strong and me. We -must get to the railway to-morrow--there will be a train through in the -afternoon.... Better luck next time." - -Lord Huntingten looked at Lady Merline, and Lady Merline looked at her -plate. - - - 2 - -Down the narrowest of narrow jungle-paths marched a small party of the -Queen's African Rifles. They marched, perforce, in single file, and at -their head was their white officer. A wiser man would have marched in -the middle, for the leading man was inevitably bound to "get it" if they -came upon the enemy, and, albeit brave and warlike men, negroes of the -Queen's African Rifles (like other troops) fight better when commanded -by an officer. A "point" of a sergeant and two or three men, a couple -of hundred yards in front, is all very well, but the wily foe in ambush -knows quite enough to take, as it were, the cash and let the credit -go--to let the "point" march on, and to wait for the main body. - -Captain Sir Montague Merline was well aware of the unwisdom and military -inadvisability of heading the long file, but did it, nevertheless. If -called upon to defend his conduct, he would have said that what was -gained by the alleged wiser course was more than lost, inasmuch as the -confidence of the men in so discreet a leader would not be, to say the -least of it, enhanced. The little column moved silently and slowly -through the horrible place, a stinking swamp, the atmosphere almost -unbreatheable, the narrow winding track almost untreadable, the -enclosing walls of densest jungle utterly unpenetrable--a singularly -undesirable spot in which to be attacked by a cunning and blood-thirsty -foe of whom this was the "native heath." - -Good job the beggars did not run to machine guns, thought Captain -Merline; fancy one, well placed and concealed in one of these huge -trees, and commanding the track. Stake-pits, poisoned arrows, -spiked-log booby-traps, and poisoned needle-pointed snags neatly placed -to catch bare knees, and their various other little tricks were quite -enough to go on with. What a rotten place for an ambush! The beggars -could easily have made a neat clearing a foot or two from the track, and -massed a hundred men whose poisoned arrows, guns, and rifles could be -presented a few inches from the breasts of passing enemies, without the -least fear of discovery. Precautions against that sort of thing were -utterly impossible if one were to advance at a higher speed than a mile -a day. The only possible way of ensuring against flank attack was to -have half the column out in the jungle with axes, hacking their way in -line, ahead of the remainder. They couldn't do a mile a day at that -rate. That "point" in front was no earthly good, nor would it have been -if joined by Daniel Boone Burnham and Buffalo Bill. The jungle on -either side might as well have been a thirty-foot brick wall. Unless the -enemy chose to squat in the middle of the track, what could the "point" -do in the way of warning?--and the enemy wouldn't do that. Of course, -an opposing column might be marching toward them along the same path, -but, in that case, except at a sudden bend, the column would see them as -soon as the "point." Confound all bush fighting--messy, chancy work. -Anyhow, he'd have ten minutes' halt and send Ibrahim up a tree for a -look round. - -Captain Merline put his hand to the breast pocket of his khaki flannel -shirt for his whistle, with a faint short blast on which he would signal -to his "point" to halt. The whistle never reached his lips. A sudden -ragged crash of musketry rang out from the dense vegetation on either -side, and from surrounding trees which commanded and enfiladed the path. -More than half the little force fell at the first discharge, for it is -hard to miss a man with a Snider or a Martini-Henry rifle at three -yards' range. For a moment there was confusion, and more than one of -those soldiers of the Queen, it must be admitted, fired off his rifle at -nothing in particular. A burly sergeant, bringing up the rear, thrust -his way to the front shouting an order, and the survivors of the first -murderous burst of fire crouched down on either side of the track and -endeavoured to force their way into the jungle, form a line on either -side, and fire volleys to their left, front and right. Having made his -way to the head of the column, Sergeant Isa ibn Yakub found his officer -shot through the head, chest and thigh.... A glance was sufficient. -With a loud click of his tongue he turned away with a look of murderous -hate on his ebony face and the lust of slaughter in his rolling yellow -eye. He saw a leafy twig fall from a tree that overhung the path and -crouched motionless, staring at the spot. Suddenly he raised his rifle -and fired, and gave a hoarse shout of glee as a body fell crashing to -the ground. In the same second his tarboosh was spun from his head and -the shoulder of his blue jersey torn as by an invisible claw. He too -wriggled into the undergrowth and joined the volley-firing, which, -sustained long enough and sufficiently generously and impartially -distributed, must assuredly damage a neighbouring foe and hinder his -approach. Equally assuredly it must, however, lead to exhaustion of -ammunition, and when the volley-firing slackened and died away, it was -for this reason. Sergeant Isa ibn Yakub was a man of brains and -resource, as well as of dash and courage. Since the enemy had fallen -silent too, he would emerge with his men and collect the ammunition from -their dead and wounded comrades. He blew a number of short shrill -blasts on the whistle which, with the stripes upon his arm, was the -proudest of his possessions. - -The ammunition was quickly collected and the worthy Sergeant possessed -himself of his dead officer's revolver and cartridges.... The next -step? ... If he attempted to remove his wounded, his whole effective -force would become stretcher-bearers and still be inadequate to the -task. If he abandoned his wounded, should he advance or retire? He -would rather fight a lion or three Masai than have to answer these -conundrums and shoulder these responsibilities.... He was relieved of -all necessity in the matter of deciding, for the brooding silence was -again suddenly broken by ear-piercing and blood-curdling howls and a -second sudden fusillade, as, at some given signal, the enemy burst into -the track both before and behind the column. Obviously they were -skilfully handled and by one versed in the art of jungle war. The -survivors of the little force were completely surrounded--and the rest -was rather a massacre than a fight. It is useless to endeavour to dive -into dense jungle to form a firing line when a determined person with a -broad-bladed spear is literally at your heels. Sergeant Isa ibn Yakub -did his utmost and fought like the lion-hearted warrior he was. It is -some satisfaction to know that the one man who escaped and made his way -to the temporary base of the little columns to tell the story of the -destruction of this particular force, was Sergeant Isa ibn Yakub. - -One month later a Lieutenant was promoted to Captain Sir Montague -Merline's post, and, twelve months later, Lord Huntingten married his -wife. - -Captain Strong of the Queen's African Rifles, home on furlough, was best -man at the wedding of the handsome and popular Lord Huntingten with the -charming and beautiful Lady Merline. - - - 3 - -At about the same time as the fashionable London press announced to a -more or less interested world the more or less important news that Lady -Huntingten had presented her lord and master with a son and heir, a -small _safari_ swung into a tiny African village and came to a halt. -The naked Kavarondo porters flung down their loads with grunts and -duckings, and sat them down, a huddled mass of smelly humanity. From a -litter, borne in the middle of the caravan, stepped the leader of the -party, one Doctor John Williams, a great (though unknown) surgeon, a -medical missionary who gave his life and unusual talents, skill and -knowledge to the alleviation of the miseries of black humanity. There -are people who have a lot to say about missionaries in Africa, and there -are people who have nothing to say about Dr. John Williams because words -fail them. They have seen him at work and know what his life is--and -also what it might be if he chose to set up in Harley Street. - -Doctor John Williams looked around at the village to which Fate brought -him for the first time, and beheld the usual scene--a collection of huts -built of poles and grass, and a few superior dwelling-places with -thatched walls and roofs. A couple of women were pounding grain in a -wooden mortar; a small group of others was engaged in a kind of rude -basket weaving under the porch of a big hut; a man seated by a small -fire had apparently "taken up" poker work, for he was decorating a -vase-shaped gourd by means of a red-hot iron; a gang of tiny naked -piccaninnies, with incredibly distended stomachs, was playing around -a... - -_What?_ - -Dr. John Williams strode over to the spot. A white man, or the ruin of -a sort of a white man, was seated on a native stool and leaning against -the bole of one of the towering palms that embowered, shaded, concealed -and enriched the little village. His hair was very long and grey, his -beard and moustache were long and grey, his face was burnt and bronzed, -his eyes blue and bright. On his head were the deplorable ruins of a -khaki helmet, and, for the rest, he wore the rags and remains of a pair -of khaki shorts. Dr. John Williams stood and stared at him in -open-mouthed astonishment. He arose and advanced with extended hand. -The doctor was too astounded to speak, and the other could not, for he -was dumb. In a minute it was obvious to the new-comer that he was -more--that he was in some way "wanting." - -From the headman of the villagers, who quickly gathered round, he -learned that the white man had been with them for "many nights and days -and seasons," that he was afflicted of the gods, very wise, and as a -little child. Why "very wise" Dr. John Williams failed to discover, or -anything more of the man's history, save that he had simply walked into -the village from nowhere in particular and had sat under that tree, all -day, ever since. They had given him a hut, milk, corn, cocoanut, and -whatever else they had. Also, in addition to this propitiation, they -had made a minor god of him, with worship of the milder sorts. Their -wisdom and virtue in this particular had been rewarded by him with a -period of marked prosperity; and undoubtedly their crops, their cattle, -and their married women had benefited by his benevolent presence.... - -When Doctor John Williams resumed his journey he took the dumb white man -with him, and, in due course, reached his own mission, dispensary and -wonderful little hospital a few months later. Had he considered that -there was any urgency in the case, and the time-factor of any -importance, he would have abandoned his sleeping-sickness tour, and gone -direct to the hospital to operate upon the skull of his foundling. For -this great (and unknown) surgeon, upon examination, had decided that the -removal of a bullet which was lodged beneath the scalp and in the solid -bone of the top of the man's head was the first, and probably last, step -in the direction of the restoration of speech and understanding. -Obviously he was in no pain, and he was not mad, but his brain was that -of a child whose age was equal to the time which had elapsed since the -wound was caused. Probably this had happened about a couple of years -ago, for the brain was about equal to that of a two-year-old child. But -why had the child not learned to talk? Possibly the fact that he had -lived among negroes, since his last return to consciousness, would -account for the fact. Had he been shot in the head and recovered among -English people (if he were English) he would probably be now talking as -fluently as a two-year-old baby.... - -The first few days after his return to his headquarters were always -exceedingly busy ones for the doctor. The number of things able to "go -wrong" in his absence was incredible, and, as he was the only white man -resident in a district some ten thousand square miles in area, the -accumulation of work and trouble was sufficient to appal most people. -But work and trouble were what the good doctor sought and throve on.... -One piece of good news there was, however, in the tale of calamities. A -pencilled note, scribbled on a leaf of a military pocket-book, informed -him that his old friend Strong, of the Queen's African Rifles, had -passed through his village three weeks earlier, and would again pass -through, on his return, in a week's time. Having made a wide detour to -see his friend, Strong was very disappointed to learn of his absence, -and would return by the same devious route, in the hope of better -luck.... - -Good! A few days of Strong's company would be worth a lot. A visit -from any white man was something; from a man of one's own class and kind -was a great thing; but from worldly-wise, widely-read, clever old -Strong! ... Excellent! ... - - - 4 - -Captain Strong, of the Queen's African Rifles, passed from the strong -sunlight into the dark coolness of Doctor John Williams' bungalow side -by side with his host, who was still shaking him by the hand, in his joy -and affection. Laying his riding-whip and helmet on a table he glanced -round, stared, turned as white as a sunburnt man may, ejaculated "Oh, my -God!" and seized the doctor's arm. His mouth hung open, his eyes were -starting from his head, and it was with shaking hand that he pointed to -where, in the doctor's living-room, sat the dumb and weak-witted -foundling. - -Doctor Williams was astounded and mightily interested. - -"What's up, Strong?" he asked. - -"B--b--b--but he's _dead_!" stammered Strong with a gasp. - -"Not a bit of it, man," was the reply, "he's as alive as you or I. He's -dumb, and he's dotty, but he's alive all right.... What's wrong with -you? You've got a touch of the sun..." and then Captain Strong was -himself again. If Captain Sir Montague Merline, late of the Queen's -African Rifles, were alive, it should not be Jack Strong who would -announce the fact.... - -_Monty Merline?_ ... Was that vacant-looking person who was rising from -a chair and bowing to him, his old pal Merline? ... Most undoubtedly it -was. Besides--there on his wrist and forearm was the -wonderfully-tattooed snake.... - -"How do you do?" he said. The other bowed again, smiled stupidly, and -fumbled with the buttons of his coat.... Balmy! ... - -Strong turned and dragged his host out of the room. - -"Where's he come from?" he asked quickly. "Who is he?" - -"Where he came from last," replied the doctor, "is a village called, I -believe, Bwogo, about a hundred and twenty miles south-east of here. -How he got there I can't tell you. The natives said he just walked up -unaccompanied, unbounded, unpursued. He's got a bullet or something in -the top of his head and I'm going to lug it out. And then, my boy, with -any luck at all, he'll very soon be able to answer you any question you -like to put him. Speech and memory will return at the moment the -pressure on the brain ceases." - -"Will he remember up to the time the bullet hit him, or since, or both?" -asked Strong. - -"All his life, up to the moment the bullet hit him, certainly," was the -reply. "What happened since will, at first, be remembered as a dream, -probably. If I had to prophesy I should say he'd take up his life from -the second in which the bullet hit him, and think, for the moment, that -he is still where it happened. By-and-by, he'll realise that there's a -gap somewhere, and gradually he'll be able to fill it in with events -which will seem half nightmare, half real." - -"Anyhow, he'll be certain of his identity and personal history and so -forth?" asked Strong. - -"Absolutely," said the surgeon. "It will be precisely as though he -awoke from an ordinary night's rest.... It'll be awfully interesting to -hear him give an account of himself.... All this, of course, if he -doesn't die under the operation." - -"I hope he will," said Strong. - -"What _do_ you mean, my dear chap?" - -"I hope he'll die under the operation." - -"Why?" - -"He'll be better dead.... And it will be better for three other people -that he should be dead.... Is he likely to die?" - -"I should say it's ten to one he'll pull through all right.... What's -it all about, Strong?" - -"Look here, old chap," was the earnest reply. "If it were anybody else -but you I shouldn't know what to say or do. As it's _you_, my course is -clear, for you're the last thing in discretion, wisdom and -understanding.... But don't ask me his name.... I know him.... Look -here, it's like this. His wife's married again.... There's a kid.... -They're well known in Society.... Awful business.... Ghastly -scandal.... Shockin' position." Captain Strong took Doctor John -Williams by the arm. "Look here, old chap," he said once again. "Need -you do this? It isn't as though he was 'conscious,' so to speak, and in -pain." - -"Yes, I must do it," replied the doctor without hesitation, as the other -paused. - -"But why?" urged Strong. "I'm absolutely certain that if M----, -er--that is--this chap--could have his faculties for a minute he would -tell you not to do it.... You'll take him from a sort of negative -happiness to the most positive and acute unhappiness, and you'll simply -blast the lives of his wife and the most excellent chap she's -married.... She waited a year after this chap 'died' in--er--that last -Polar expedition--as was supposed.... Think of the poor little kid -too.... And there's estates and a ti---- so on...." - -"No good, Strong. My duty in the matter is perfectly clear, and it is -to the sick man, as such." - -"Well, you'll do a damned cruel thing ... er--sorry, old chap, I mean -_do_ think it over a bit and look at it from the point of view of the -unfortunate lady, the second husband, and the child.... And of the chap -himself.... By God! He won't thank you." - -"I look at it from the point of view of the doctor and I'm not out for -thanks," was the reply. - -"Is that your last word, Williams?" - -"It is. I have here a man mentally maimed, mangled and suffering. My -first and only duty is to heal him, and I shall do it." - -"Right O!" replied Strong, who knew that further words would be useless. -He knew that his friend's intelligence was clear as crystal and his will -as firm, and that he accepted no other guide than his own conscience.... - -As the three men sat in the moonlight that night, after dinner, Captain -Strong was an uncomfortable man. That tragedy must find a place in the -human comedy he was well aware. It had its uses like the comic -relief--but for human tragedy, undilute, black, harsh, and dreadful, he -had no taste. He shivered. The pretty little comedy of Lord Huntingten -and Sir Montague and Lady Merline, of two years ago, had greatly amused -and deeply interested him. This tragedy of the same three people was -unmitigated horror.... Poor Lady Merline! He conjured up her beautiful -face with the wonderful eyes, the rose-leaf complexion, the glorious -hair, the tender, lovely mouth--and saw the life and beauty wiped from -it as she read, or heard, the ghastly news ... bigamy ... -illegitimacy.... - -The doctor's "bearer" came to take the patient to bed. He was a -remarkable man who had started life as a ward-boy in Madras. He it was -who had cut the half-witted white man's hair, shaved his beard and -dressed him in his master's spare clothes. When the patient was asleep -that night, he was going to endeavour to shave the top of his head -without waking him, for he was to be operated on, in the morning.... - -"Yes, I fully understand and I give you my solemn promise, Strong," said -the doctor as the two men rose to go in, that night. "The moment the -man is sane I will tell him that he is not to tell me his name, nor -anything else until he has heard what I have to say. I will then break -it to him--using my own discretion as to how and when--that he was -reported dead, that his will was proved, that his widow wore mourning -for a year and then married again, and had a son a year later.... I -undertake that he shall not leave this house, _knowing that_, unless he -is in the fullest possession of his faculties and able to realise with -the utmost clearness _all_ the bearings of the case and _all_ the -consequences following his resumption of identity. And I'll let him hide -here for just as long as he cares to conceal himself--if he wishes to -remain 'dead' for a time." - -"Yes ... And as I can't possibly stay till he recovers, nor, in fact, -over to-morrow without gross dereliction of duty, I will leave a letter -for you to give him at the earliest safe moment.... I'll tell him that -I am the only living soul who knows his name as well as his secret. -He'll understand that no one else will know this--from me." - -As he sat on the side of his bed that night, Captain Strong remarked -unto his soul, "Well--one thing--if I know Monty Merline as well as I -think, 'Sir Montague Merline' died two years ago, whatever happens.... -And yet I can't imagine Monty committing suicide, somehow. He's a chap -with a conscience as well as the soul of chivalry.... Poor, poor, old -Monty Merline!..." - - - - - THE WAGES OF VIRTUE - - - - CHAPTER I - - SOAP AND SIR MONTAGUE MERLINE - - -Sir Montague Merline, second-class private soldier of the First -Battalion of the Foreign Legion of France, paused to straighten his -back, to pass his bronzed forearm across his white forehead, and to put -his scrap of soap into his mouth--the only safe receptacle for the -precious morsel, the tiny cake issued once a month by Madame La -Republique to the Legionary for all his washing purposes. When one's -income is precisely one halfpenny a day (paid when it has totalled up to -the sum of twopence halfpenny), one does not waste much, nor risk the -loss of valuable property; and to lay a piece of soap upon the concrete -of _Le Cercle d'Enfer_ reservoir, is not so much to risk the loss of it -as to lose it, when one is surrounded by gentlemen of the Foreign -Legion. Let me not be misunderstood, nor supposed to be casting -aspersions upon the said gentlemen, but their need for soap is urgent, -their income is one halfpenny a day, and soap is of the things with -which one may "decorate oneself" without contravening the law of the -Legion. To steal is to steal, mark you (and to deserve, and probably to -get, a bayonet through the offending hand, pinning it to the bench or -table), but to borrow certain specified articles permanently and without -permission is merely, in the curious slang of the Legion, "to decorate -oneself." - -Contrary to what the uninitiated might suppose, _Le Cercle d'Enfer_--the -Circle of Hell--is not a dry, but a very wet place, it being, in point -of fact, the _lavabo_ where the Legionaries of the French Foreign Legion -stationed in Algeria at Sidi-bel-Abbes, daily wash their white fatigue -uniforms and occasionally their underclothing. - -Oh, that _Cercle d'Enfer_! I hated it more than I hated the _peloton -des hommes punis, salle de police, cellules_, the "Breakfast of the -Legion," the awful heat, monotony, flies, Bedouins; the solitude, -hunger, and thirst of outpost stations in the south; I hated it more -than I hated _astiquage_, _la boite_, the _chaussettes russes_, -hospital, the terrible desert marches, sewer-cleaning fatigues, or that -villainous and vindictive ruffian of a _cafard_-smitten _caporal_ who -systematically did his very able best to kill me. Oh, that accursed -_Cercle d'Enfer_, and the heart-breaking labour of washing a filthy -alfa-fibre suit (stained perhaps with rifle-oil) in cold water, and -without soap! - -Only the other day, as I lay somnolent in a long chair in the verandah -of the Charmingest Woman (she lives in India), I heard the regular -_flop, flop, flop_ of wet clothes, beaten by a distant _dhobi_ upon a -slab of stone, and at the same moment I smelt wet concrete as the _mali_ -watered the maidenhair fern on the steps leading from Her verandah to -the garden. Odours call up memories far more distinctly and readily -than do other sense-impressions, and the faint smell of wet concrete, -aided as it was by the faintly audible sound of wet blows, brought most -vividly before my mind's eye a detailed picture of that well-named -Temple of Hygiea, the "Circle of Hell." Sleeping, waking, and partly -sleeping, partly waking, I saw it all again; saw Sir Montague Merline, -who called himself John Bull; saw Hiram Cyrus Milton, known as The -Bucking Bronco; saw "Reginald Rupert"; the infamous Luigi Rivoli; the -unspeakable Edouard Malvin; the marvellous Mad Grasshopper, whose name -no one knew; the truly religious Hans Djoolte; the Russian twins, -calling themselves Mikhail and Feodor Kyrilovitch Malekov; the terrible -Sergeant-Major Suicide-Maker, and all the rest of them. And finally, -waking with an actual and perceptible taste of soap in my mouth, I -wished my worst enemy were in the _Cercle d'Enfer_, soapless, and with -much rifle-oil, dust, leather marks and wine stains on his once-white -uniform--and then I thought of Carmelita and determined to write this -book. - -For Carmelita deserves a monument (and so does John Bull), however -humble.... To continue.... - -Sir Montague Merline did not put his precious morsel of soap into his -pocket, for the excellent reason that there was no pocket to the single -exiguous garment he was at the moment wearing--a useful piece of -material which in its time played many parts, and knew the service of -duster, towel, turban, tablecloth, polishing pad, tea-cloth, -house-flannel, apron, handkerchief, neckerchief, curtain, serviette, -holder, fly-slayer, water-strainer, punkah, and, at the moment, nether -garment. Having _cached_ his soup and having observed "_Peste!_" as he -savoured its flavour, he proceeded to pommel, punch, and slap upon the -concrete, the greyish-white tunic and breeches, and the cotton vest and -shirt which he had generously soaped before the hungry eyes of numerous -soapless but oathful fellow-labourers, who less successfully sought that -virtue which, in the Legion, is certainly next to, but far ahead of, -mere godliness. - -In due course, Sir Montague Merline rinsed his garments in the -reservoir, wrung them out, bore them to the nearest clothes-line, hung -them out to dry, and sat himself down in their shadow to stare at them -unwaveringly until dried by the fierce sun--the ancient enemy, for the -moment an unwilling friend. To watch them unwaveringly and intently -because he knew that the turning of his head for ten seconds might mean -their complete and final disappearance--for, like soap, articles of -uniform are on the list of things with which a Legionary may "decorate" -himself, if he can, without incurring the odium of public opinion. (He -may steal any article of equipment, clothing, kit, accoutrement, or -general utility, but his patron saint help him and Le Bon Dieu be -merciful to him, if he be caught stealing tobacco, wine, food, or -money.) - -Becoming aware of the presence of Monsieur le Legionnaire Edouard -Malvin, Sir Montague Merline increased the vigilance of his scrutiny of -his pendent property, for ce cher Edouard was of pick-pockets the very -prince and magician; of those who could steal the teeth from a Jew while -he sneezed and would steal the scalp from their grandmamma while she -objected. - -"Ohe! Jean Boule, lend me thy soap," besought this stout and dapper -little Austrian, who for some reason pretended to be a Belgian from the -Congo. "This cursed alfa-fibre gets dirtier the more you wash it in this -cursed water," and he smiled a greasy and ingratiating grin. - -Without for one second averting his steady stare from his clothes, the -Englishman slowly removed the soap from his mouth, expectorated, -remarked "_Peaudezebie_,"[#] and took no further notice of the quaint -figure which stood by his side, clad only in ancient red Zouave breeches -and the ingratiating smile. - - -[#] An emphatic negative. - - -"Name of a Name! Name of the Name of a Pipe! Name of the Name of a -Dirty Little Furry Red Monkey!" observed Monsieur le Legionnaire Edouard -Malvin as he turned to slouch away, twirling the dripping grey-white -tunic. - -"Meaning me?" asked Sir Montague, replacing the soap in its safe -repository and preparing to rise. - -"But no! But not in the least, old cabbage. Thou hast the _cafard_. -Mais oui, tu as le cafard," replied the Belgian and quickened his -retreat. - -No, the grey Jean Boule, so old, so young, doyen of Legionnaires, so -quick, strong, skilful and enduring at _la boxe_, was not the man to -cross at any time, and least of all when he had _le cafard_, that -terrible Legion madness that all Legionaries know; the madness that -drives them to the cells, to gaol, to the Zephyrs, to the firing-party -by the open grave; or to desertion and death in the desert. The grey -Jean Boule had been a Zephyr of the Penal Battalions once, already, for -killing a man, and Monsieur Malvin, although a Legionary of the Foreign -Legion, did not wish to die. No, not while Carmelita and Madame la -Cantiniere lived and loved and sold the good Algiers wine at -three-halfpence a bottle.... No, bon sang de sort! - -M. le Legionnaire Malvin returned to the dense ring of labouring -perspiring washers, and edged in behind a gigantic German and a short, -broad, burly Alsatian, capitalists as joint proprietors of a fine cake -of soap. - -Sacre nom de nom de bon Dieu de Dieu de sort! Dull-witted German pigs -might leave their soap unguarded for a moment, and, if they did not, -might be induced to wring some soapy water from their little pile of -washing, upon the obstinately greasy tunic of the good M. Malvin. - -Legionnaire Hans Schnitzel, late of Berlin, rinsed his washing in clean -water, wrung it, and took it to the nearest drying line. Legionnaire -Alphonse Dupont, late of Alsace, placed his soap in the pocket of the -dirty white fatigue-uniform which he wore, and which he would wash as -soon as he had finished the present job. Immediately, Legionnaire -Edouard Malvin transferred the soap from the side pocket of the tunic of -the unconscious Legionnaire Alphonse Dupont to that of his own red -breeches, and straightway begged the loan of it. - -"_Merde!_" replied Dupont. "Nombril de Belzebutt! I will lend it thee -_peaudezebie_. Why should I lend thee soap, _vieux degoulant_? Go -decorate thyself, _sale cochon_. Besides 'tis not mine to lend." - -"And that is very true," agreed M. Malvin, and sauntered toward -Schnitzel, who stood phlegmatically guarding his drying clothes. In his -hand was an object which caused the eyebrows of the good M. Malvin to -arch and rise, and his mouth to water--nothing less than an actual, real -and genuine scrubbing-brush, beautiful in its bristliness. Then -righteous anger filled his soul. - -"Saligaud!" he hissed. "These pigs of filthy Germans! Soap _and_ a -brush. Sacripants! Ils me degoutant a la fin." - -As he regarded the stolid German with increasing envy, hatred, malice -and all uncharitableness, and cast about in his quick and cunning mind -for means of relieving him of the coveted brush, a sudden roar of wrath -and grief from his Alsatian partner, Dupont, sent Schnitzel running to -join that unfortunate man in fierce and impartial denunciations of his -left-hand and right-hand neighbours, who were thieves, pigs, brigands, -dogs, Arabs, and utterly _merdant_ and _merdable_. Bursting into the -fray, Herr Schnitzel found them, in addition, _bloedsinnig_ and -_dummkopf_ in that they could not produce cakes of soap from empty -mouths. - -As the rage of the bereaved warriors increased, more and more Pomeranian -and Alsatian patois invaded the wonderful Legion-French, a French which -is not of Paris, nor of anywhere else in the world save La Legion. As -Dupont fell upon a laughing Italian with a cry of "Ah! zut! Sacre -grimacier," Schnitzel spluttered and roared at a huge slow-moving -American who regarded him with a look of pitying but not unkindly -contempt.... - -"Why do the 'eathen rage furious _to_gether and _im_agine a vain thing?" -he enquired in a slow drawl of the excited "furriner," adding "Ain't yew -some _schafs-kopf_, sonny!" and, as the big German began to whirl his -arms in the windmill fashion peculiar to the non-boxing foreigner who -meditates assault and battery, continued-- - -"Now yew stop _zanking_ and playing _versteckens_ with me, yew pie-faced -Squarehead, and be _schnell_ about it, or yew'll git my goat, see? -_Vous obtiendrez mon chevre_, yew perambulating _prachtvoll bierhatte_," -and he coolly turned his back upon the infuriated German with a polite, -if laborious, "Guten tag, mein Freund." - -Mr. Hiram Cyrus Milton (late of Texas, California, the Yukon, and the -"main drag" generally of the wild and woolly West) was exceeding proud -of his linguistic knowledge and skill. It may be remarked, en passant, -that his friends were even prouder of it. - -At this moment, le bon Legionnaire Malvin, hovering for opportunity, -with a sudden _coup de savate_ struck the so-desirable scrubbing-brush -from the hand of Herr Schnitzel with a force that seemed like to take -the arm from the shoulder with it. Leaping round with a yell of pain, -the unfortunate German found himself, as Malvin had calculated, face to -face with the mighty Luigi Rivoli, to attack whom was to be brought to -death's door through that of the hospital. - -Snatching up the brush which was behind Schnitzel when he turned to face -Rivoli, le bon M. Malvin lightly departed from the vulgar scuffle in the -direction of the drying clothes of Herren Schnitzel and Dupont, the -latter, last seen clasping, with more enthusiasm than love, a wiry -Italian to his bosom. The luck of M. Malvin was distinctly in, for not -only had he the soap and a brush for the easy cleansing of his own -uniform, but he had within his grasp a fresh uniform to wear, and -another to sell; for the clothing of ce bon Dupont would fit him to a -marvel, while that of the pig-dog Schnitzel would fetch good money, the -equivalent of several litres of the thick, red Algerian wine, from a -certain Spanish Jew, old Haroun Mendoza, of the Sidi-bel-Abbes ghetto. - -Yes, the Saints bless and reward the good Dupont for being of the same -size as M. Malvin himself, for it is a most serious matter to be short -of anything when showing-down kit at kit-inspection, and that thrice -accursed Sacre Chien of an _Adjudant_ would, as likely as not, have -spare white trousers shown-down on the morrow. What can a good -Legionnaire do, look you, when he has not the article named for -to-morrow's _Adjutant's_ inspection, but "decorate himself"? Is it -easy, is it reasonable, to buy new white fatigue-uniform on an income of -one halfpenny per diem? Sapristi, and Sacre Bleu, and Name of the Name -of a Little Brown Dog, a litre of wine costs a penny, and a packet of -tobacco three-halfpence, and what is left to a gentleman of the Legion -then, on pay-day, out of his twopence-halfpenny, nom d'un petard? As for -ce bon Dupont, he must in his turn "decorate" himself. And if he -cannot, but must renew acquaintance with _la boite_ and _le peloton des -hommes punis_, why--he must regard things in their true light, be -philosophical, and take it easy. Is it not proverbial that "Toutes -choses peut on souffrir qu'aise"? And with a purr of pleasure, a -positive licking of chops, and a murmur of "Ah! Au tient frais," he -deftly whipped the property of the embattled Legionaries from the line, -no man saying him nay. For it is not the etiquette of the Legion to -interfere with one who, in the absence of its owner, would "decorate" -himself with any of those things with which self-decoration is -permissible, if not honourable. Indeed, to Sir Montague Merline, -sitting close by, and regarding his proceedings with cold impartial eye, -M. Malvin observed-- - -"'Y a de bon, mon salop! I have heard that le bon Dieu helps those who -help themselves. I do but help myself in order to give le bon Dieu the -opportunity He doubtless desires. I decorate myself incidentally. Mais -oui, and I shall decorate myself this evening with a p'tite ouvriere and -to-morrow with une reputation d'ivrogne," and he turned innocently to -saunter with his innocent bundle of washing from the _lavabo_, to his -_caserne_. Ere he had taken half a dozen steps, the cold and quiet -voice of the grey Jean Boule broke in upon the resumed day-dreams of the -innocently sauntering M. Malvin. - -"Might one aspire to the honour of venturing to detain for a brief -interview Monsieur le Legionnaire Edouard Malvin?" said the soft -metallic voice. - -"But certainly, and without charge, mon gars," replied that gentleman, -turning and eyeing the incomprehensible and dangerous Jean Boule, _a -coin de l'oeil_. - -"You seek soap?" - -"I do," replied the Austrian "Belgian" promptly. The possession of one -cake of soap makes that of another no less desirable. - -"Do you seek sorrow also?" - -"But no, dear friend. 'J'ai eu toutes les folies.' In this world I -seek but wine, woman, and peace. Let me avoid the 'gros bonnets' and -lead my happy tumble life in peaceful obscurity. A modest violet, I. A -wayside flow'ret, a retiring primrose, such as you English love." - -"Then, cher Malvin, since you seek soap and not sorrow, let not my -little cake of soap disappear from beneath the polishing-rags in my -sack. The little brown sack at the head of my cot, cher Malvin. Enfin! -I appoint you guardian and custodian of my little cake of soap. But in -a most evil hour for le bon M. Malvin would it disappear. Guard it -then, cher Malvin. Respect it. Watch over it as you value, and would -retain, your health and beauty, M. Malvin. And when _I_ have avenged -_my_ little piece of soap, the true history of the last ten minutes will -deeply interest those earnest searchers after truth, Legionaries -Schnitzel and Dupont. Depart in peace and enter upon your new office of -Guardian of my Soap! Vous devez en etre joliment fier." - -"Quite a speech, in effect, mon drole," replied the stout Austrian as he -doubtfully fingered his short beard _au poincon_, and added uneasily, "I -am not the only gentleman who 'decorates' himself with soap." - -"No? Nor with uniforms. Go in peace, Protector of my Soap." - -And smiling wintrily M. Malvin winked, broke into the wholly deplorable -ditty of "Pere Dupanloup en chemin de fer," and pursued his innocent -path to barracks, whither Sir Montague Merline later followed him, after -watching with a contemptuous smile some mixed and messy fighting (beside -the apparently dead body of the Legionary Schnitzel) between an Alsatian -and an Italian, in which the Italian kicked his opponent in the stomach -and partly ate his ear, and the Alsatian used his hands solely for -purpose of throttling. - -Why couldn't they stand up and fight like gentlemen under Queensberry -rules, or, if boxing did not appeal to them, use their sword-bayonets -like soldiers and Legionaries--the low rooters, the vulgar, -rough-and-tumble gutter-scrappers.... - -Removing his almost dry washing from the line, Sir Montague Merline -marched across to his barrack-block, climbed the three flights of stone -stairs, traversed the long corridor of his Company, and entered the big, -light, airy room wherein he and twenty-nine other Legionaries (one of -whom held the very exalted and important rank of _Caporal_) lived and -moved and had their monotonous being. - -Spreading his tunic and breeches on the end of the long table he -proceeded to "iron" them, first with his hand, secondly with a tin -plate, and finally with the edge of his "quart," the drinking-mug which -hung at the head of his bed ready for the reception of the early morning -_jus_, the strong coffee which most effectively rouses the Legionary -from somnolence and most ineffectively sustains him until midday. - -Anon, having persuaded himself that the result of his labours was -satisfactory, and up to Legion standards of smartness--which are as high -as those of the ordinary _piou-piou_ of the French line are low--he -folded his uniform in elbow-to-finger-tip lengths, placed it with the -_paquetage_ on the shelf above his bed, and began to dress for his -evening walk-out. The Legionary's time is, in theory, his own after 5 -p.m., and the most sacred plank in the most sacred platform of all his -sacred tradition is his right to promenade himself at eventide and -listen to the Legion's glorious band in the Place Sadi Carnot. - -Having laid his uniform, belt, bayonet, and kepi on his cot, he stepped -across to the next but one (the name-card at the head of which bore the -astonishing legend "Bucking Bronco, No. 11356. Soldat 1ere Classe), -opened a little sack which hung at the head of it, and took from it the -remains of an ancient nail-brush, the joint property of Sir Montague -Merline, alias Jean Boule, and Hiram Cyrus Milton, alias Bucking Bronco, -late of Texas, California, Yukon, and "the main drag" of the United -States of America. - -Even as Sir Montague's hand was inserted through the neck of the sack, -the huge American (who had been wrongfully accused and rashly attacked -by Legionary Hans Schnitzel) entered the barrack-room, caught sight of a -figure bending over his rag-sack, and crept on tiptoe towards it, his -great gnarled fists clenched, his mouth compressed to a straight thin -line beneath his huge drooping moustache, and his grey eyes ablaze. -Luckily Sir Montague heard the sounds of his stealthy approach, and -turned just in time. The American dropped his fists and smiled. - -"Say," he drawled, "I thought it was some herring-gutted weevil of a -Dago or a Squarehead shenannikin with my precious jools. An' I was jest -a'goin' ter plug the skinnamalink some. Say, Johnnie, if yew hadn't -swivelled any, I was jest a'goin' ter slug yew, good an' plenty, behind -the yeer-'ole." - -"Just getting the tooth-nail-button-boot-dandy-brush, Buck," replied Sir -Montague. "How are you feeling?" - -"I'm feelin' purty mean," was the reply. "A dirty Squarehead of a -dod-gasted Dutchy from the Farterland grunted in me eye, an' I thought -the shave-tail was fer rough-housin', an' I slugged him one, just ter -start 'im gwine. The gosh-dinged piker jest curled up. He jest wilted -on the floor." - -The Bucking Bronco, in high disgust, expectorated and then chid himself -for forgetting that he was no longer on the free soil of America, where -a gentleman may spit as he likes and be a gentleman for a' that and a' -that. - -"I tell yew, Johnnie," he continued, "he got me jingled, the lumberin' -lallapaloozer! There he lay _an'_ lay--and then some. 'Git up, yew -rubberin' rube,' I ses, 'yew'll git moss on your teeth if yew lie so -quiet; git up, an' deliver the goods,' I ses, 'I had more guts then yew -when I was knee high to a June bug.' Did he arise an' make good? _I_ -should worry. Nope. Yew take it from Uncle, that bonehead is there yit, -an' afore I could make him wise to it thet he didn't git the bulge on -Uncle with _thet_ bluff, another Squarehead an' a gibberin' Dago put up -a dirty kind o' scrap over his body, gougin' and kickin' an' earbitin' -an' throttlin', an' a whole bunch o' boobs jined in an' I give it up an' -come 'ome." And the Bucking Bronco sat him sadly on his bed and -groaned. - -"Cheer up, Buck, we'll all soon be dead," replied his comrade, "don't -_you_ go getting cafard," and he looked anxiously at the -angry-lugubrious face of his friend. "What's the _ordre du jour_ for -walking-out dress to-day?" he added. "Blue tunic and red trousers? Or -tunic and white? Or _capote_, or what?" - -"It was tunic an' white yesterday," replied the American, "an' I guess -it is to-day too." - -"It's my night to howl," he added cryptically "Let's go an' pow-wow -Carmelita ef thet fresh gorilla Loojey Rivoli ain't got 'er in 'is -pocket. I'll shoot 'im up some day, sure...." - -A sudden shouting, tumult, and running below, and cries of "Les bleus! -Les bleus!" interrupted the Bronco's monologue and drew the two old -soldiers to a window that overlooked the vast, neat, gravelled -barrack-square, clean, naked, and bleak to the eye as an ice-floe. - -"Strike me peculiar," remarked the Bucking Bronco. "It's another big -gang o' tenderfeet." - -"A draft of rookies! Come on--they'll all be for our Company in place -of those _poumpists_,[#] and there may be something Anglo-Saxon among -them," said Legionary John Bull, and the two men hastily flung their -capotes over their sketchy attire and hurried from the room, buttoning -them as they went. - - -[#] Deserters. - - -Like Charity, the Legionary's overcoat covers a multitude of -sins--chiefly of omission--and is a most useful garment. It protects -him from the cold dawn wind, and keeps him warm by night; it protects -him from the cruel African sun, and keeps him cool by day, or at least, -if not cool, in the frying-pan degree of heat, which is better than that -of the fire. He marches in it without a tunic, and relies upon it to -conceal the fact when he has failed to "decorate" himself with -underclothing. Its skirts, buttoned back, hamper not his legs, and its -capacious pockets have many uses. Its one drawback is that, being -double-breasted, it buttons up on either side, a fact which has brought -the grey hairs of many an honest Legionary in sorrow to the cellules, -and given many a brutal and vindictive Sergeant the chance of that -cruelty in which his little tyrant soul so revels. For, incredible as -it may seem to the lay mind, the ingenious devil whose military mind -concocts the ordres du jour, changes, by solemn decree, and almost -daily, the side upon which the overcoat is to be buttoned up. - -Clattering down the long flights of stone stairs, and converging across -the barrack-square, the Legionaries came running from all directions, to -gaze upon, to chaff, to delude, to sponge upon, and to rob and swindle -the "Blues"--the recruits of the _Legion Etrangere_, the embryo -_Legionnaires d'Afrique_. - -In the incredibly maddeningly dull life of the Legion in peace time, the -slightest diversion is a god-send and even the arrival of a batch of -recruits a most welcome event. To all, it is a distraction; to some, -the hope of the arrival of a fellow-countryman (especially to the few -English, Americans, Danes, Greeks, Russians, Norwegians, Swedes, and -Poles whom cruel Fate has sent to La Legion). To some, a chance of -passing on a part of the brutality and tyranny which they themselves -suffer; to some, a chance of getting civilian clothes in which to -desert; to others, an opportunity of selling knowledge of the ropes, for -litres of canteen wine; to many, a hope of working a successful trick on -a bewildered recruit--the time-honoured villainy of stealing his new -uniform and pretending to buy him another _sub rosa_ from the dishonest -quartermaster, whereupon the recruit buys back his own original uniform -at the cost of his little all (for invariably the alleged -substitute-uniform costs just that sum of money which the poor wretch -has brought with him and augmented by the compulsory sale of his -civilian kit to the clothes-dealing harpies and thieves who infest the -barrack-gates on the arrival of each draft). - -As the tiny portal beside the huge barrack-gate was closed and fastened -by the Corporal in charge of the squad of "blues" (as the French army -calls its recruits[#]), the single file of derelicts halted at the order -of the Sergeant of the Guard, who, more in sorrow than in anger, weighed -them and found them wanting. - - -[#] In the days of the high, tight stock and cravat, the recruit was -supposed to be livid and blue in the face until he grew accustomed to -them. - - -"Sweepings," he summed them up in passing judgment. "Foundlings. -Droppings. Crumbs. Tripe. Accidents. Abortions. Cripples. Left by -the tide. Blown in by the wind. Born pekins.[#] Only one man among -them, and he a pig of a Prussian--or perhaps an Englishman. Let us hope -he's an Englishman...." - - -[#] Civilians. - - -In speaking thus, the worthy Sergeant was behaving with impropriety and -contrary to the law and tradition of the Legion. What nouns and -adjectives a non-commissioned officer may use wherewith to stigmatise a -Legionary, depend wholly and solely upon his taste, fluency and -vocabulary. But it is not etiquette to reproach a man with his -nationality, however much a matter for reproach that nationality may be. - -"Are you an Englishman, most miserable _bleu_?" he suddenly asked of a -tall, slim, fair youth, dressed in tweed Norfolk-jacket, and grey -flannel trousers, and bearing in every line of feature and form, and in -the cut and set of his expensive clothing, the stamp of the man of -breeding, birth and position. - -"By the especial mercy and grace of God, I am an Englishman, Sergeant, -thank you," he replied coolly in good, if slow and careful French. - -The Sergeant smiled grimly behind his big moustache. Himself a cashiered -Russian officer, and once a gentleman, he could appreciate a gentleman -and approve him in the strict privacy of his soul. - -"_Slava Bogu!_" he roared. "Vile _bleu_! And now by the especial mercy -and grace of the Devil you are a Legionnaire--or will be, if you survive -the making...." and added _sotto voce_, "Are you a degraded dog of a -broken officer? If so, you can claim to be appointed to the _eleves -caporaux_ as a non-commissioned officer on probation, if you have a -photo of yourself in officer's uniform. Thus you will escape all -recruit-drill and live in hope to become, some day, Sergeant, even as -I," and the (for a Sergeant of the Legion) decent-hearted fellow smote -his vast chest. - -"I thank you, Sergeant," was the drawled reply. "You really dazzle -me--but _I_ am not a degraded dog of a broken officer." - -"_Gospodi pomilui!_" roared the incensed Sergeant. "Ne me donnez de la -gabatine, pratique!" and, for a second, seemed likely to strike the cool -and insolent recruit who dared to bandy words with a Sergeant of the -Legion. His eyes bulged, his moustache bristled, and his scarlet face -turned purple as he literally showed his teeth. - -"Go easy, old chap," spoke a quiet voice, in English, close beside the -Englishman. "That fellow can do you to death if you offend him," and -the recruit, turning, beheld a grey-moustached, white-haired elderly -man, bronzed, lined, and worn-looking--a typical French army _vielle -moustache_--an "old sweat" from whose lips the accents of a refined -English gentleman came with the utmost incongruity. - -The youth's face brightened with interest. Obviously this old dear was -a public-school, or 'Varsity man, or, very probably, an _ex_-British -officer. - -"Good egg," quoth he, extending a hand behind him for a surreptitious -shake. "See you anon, what?" - -"Yes, you'll all come to the Seventh Company. We are below strength," -said Legionary John Bull, in whose weary eyes had shone a new light of -interest since they fell upon this compatriot of his own caste and -kidney. - -A remarkably cool and nonchalant recruit--and surely unique in the -history of the Legion's "blues" in showing absolutely no sign of -privation, fear, stress, criminality, poverty, depression, anxiety, or -bewilderment! - -"Now, what'n hell is he doin' in thet bum outfit?" queried the Bucking -Bronco of his friend John Bull, who kept as near as possible to the -Englishman whom he had warned against ill-timed causticity of humour. - -"He's some b'y, thet b'y, but he'd better quit kickin'. He's a way-up -white man I opine. What's 'e a'doin' in this joint? He's a gay-cat and -a looker. He's a fierce stiff sport. He has sand, some--sure. Yep," and -Mr. Hiram Cyrus Milton checked himself only just in time from defiling -the immaculate and sacred parade-ground, by "signifying in the usual -manner" that he was mentally perturbed, and himself in these -circumstances of expectoration-difficulty by observing that the boy was -undoubtedly "some" boy, and worthy to have been an American citizen had -he been born under a luckier star--or stripe. - -"I can't place him, Buck," replied the puzzled John Bull, his quiet -voice rendered almost inaudible by the shouts, howls, yells and cries of -the seething mob of Legionaries who swarmed round the line of recruits, -assailing their bewildered ears in all the tongues of Europe, and some -of those of Asia and Africa. - -"He doesn't look hungry, and he doesn't look hunted. I suppose he is -one of the few who don't come here to escape either starvation, -creditors, or the Law. And he doesn't look desperate like the average -turned-down lover, ruined gambler, deserted husband, or busted -bankrupt.... Wonder if he's come here in search of 'Romance'?" - -"Wal, ef he's come hyar for his health an' amoosement he'd go to Hell to -cool himself, or ter the den of a grizzly b'ar fer gentle stimoolation -and recreation. Gee whiz! Didn't he fair git ole Bluebottle's goat? He -sure did git nixt him." - -"Bit of a contrast to the rest of the gang, what?" remarked John Bull, -and indeed the truth of his remark was very obvious. - -"Ain't they a outfit o' dodgasted hoboes an' bindlestiffs!" agreed his -friend. - -Straight as a lance, thin, very broad in the shoulders and narrow of -waist and hip; apparently as clean and unruffled as when leaving his -golf-club pavilion for a round on the links; cool, self-possessed, -haughty, aristocratic and clean-cut of feature, this Englishman among -the other recruits looked like a Derby winner among a string of equine -ruins in a knacker's yard; like a panther among bears--a detached and -separated creature, something of different flesh and blood. Breed is a -very remarkable thing, even more distinctive than race, and in this -little band of derelicts was another Englishman, a Cockney youth who had -passed from street-arab and gutter-snipe, _via_ Reformatory, to -hooligan, coster and soldier. No man in that collection of wreckage -from Germany, Spain, Italy, France, and the four corners of Europe -looked less like the tall recruit than did this brother Englishman. - -To Sir Montague Merline, fallen and shattered star of the high social -firmament, the sight of him was as welcome as water in the desert, and -he thanked Fate for having brought another Englishman to the Legion--and -one so debonair, so fine, so handsome, cool and strong. - -"There's Blood there," he murmured to himself. - -"His shoulders hev bin drilled somewheres, although he's British," added -the Bucking one. "Yep. He's one o' the flat-backed push." - -"I wonder if he can be a cashiered officer. He's drilled as you say.... -If he has been broke for something it hasn't marked him much. Nothing -hang-dog there," mused Legionary John Bull. - -"Nope. He's a blowed-in-the-glass British aristocrat," agreed the -large-minded Hiram Cyrus, "and I opine an ex-member of the commishunned -ranks o' the British Constitootional Army. He ain't niver bin batterin' -the main-stem for light-pieces like them other hoodlums an' toughs an' -smoudges. Nope. He ain't never throwed his feet fer a two-bit -poke-out.... Look at that road-kid next 'im! Ain't he a peach? I -should smile! Wonder the medicine-man didn't turn down some o' them -chechaquos...." - -And, truly, the draft contained some very queer odd lots. By the side -of the English gentleman stood a big fat German boy in knicker-bockers -and jersey, bare-legged and wearing a pair of button-boots that had -belonged to a woman in the days when they still possessed toe-caps. -Pale face, pale hair, and pale eyes, conspired to give him an air of -terror--the first seeming to have the hue of fright, the second to stand -_en brosse_ with fear, and the last to bulge like those of a hunted -animal. - -Presumably M. le Medicin-Major must have been satisfied that the boy was -eighteen years of age, but, though tall and robust, he looked nearer -fifteen--an illusion strengthened, doubtless, by the knickerbockers, -bare calves, and button-boots. If he had enlisted in the Foreign Legion -to avoid service in the Fatherland, he had quitted the frying-pan for a -furnace seven times heated. Possibly he hoped to emulate Messieurs -Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego. In point of fact, he was a deserter -(driven to the desperate step of fleeing across the French frontier by a -typical Prussian non-commissioned officer), and already wishing himself -once more _zwei jahriger_ in the happy Fatherland. - -Already, to his German soul and stomach, the lager-bier of Munich, the -sausage, _zwieback_, and _kalte schnitzel_ of home, seemed things of the -dim and distant past, and unattainable future. - -Next to him stood a gnarled and knotted Spaniard, whose face appeared to -be carven from his native mahogany, and whose ragged clothing--grimy, -oily, blackened--proclaimed him wharfside coal-heaver, dock-rat, and -longshoreman. What did he among the Legion's blues? Was it lack of -work, was it slow starvation? Or excess of temper and a quick blow with -a coal-shovel upon the head of an enemy in some Marseilles -coal-barge--that had brought him to Sidi-bel-Abbes in the sands of -Africa? - -By his side slouched a dark-faced, blunt-featured Austrian youth, whose -evil-looking mouth was unfortunately in no wise concealed by a sparse -and straggling moustache, laboriously pinched into two gummed spikes, -and whose close-set eyes were not in harmony of focus. His dress -appeared to be that of a lower-class clerk, ill-fitting black cloth of -lamentable cut, the type of suit that, in its thousands, renders day -horrible in European and American cities, and is, alas, spreading to -many Asiatic. His linen was filthy, his crinkly hair full of dust, his -boots cracked and shapeless. He looked what he was--an absconding -Viennese tout who had had a very poor time of it. He proved to be a -highly objectionable and despicable scoundrel. - -His left-hand neighbour was a weedy, olive-faced youth, wearing a velvet -tam-o'-shanter cap, and a brown corduroy suit, of which the baggy, -peg-top trousers fitted tightly at the ankles over pearl-buttoned -spring-side patent boots. He had long fluffy brown hair, long fluffy -brown beard, whiskers, and moustache! long filthy finger nails, and no -linen. Apparently a French student of the Sorbonne, or artist from The -Quarter, overwhelmed by some terrible cataclysm, some _affaire_ of the -heart, the pocket, or _l'honneur_. - -Beside this gentleman, whose whole appearance was highly offensive to -the prejudiced insular eye of the Englishman, stood a typical -_Apache_--a horrible-looking creature whose appalling face showed the -cunning of the fox, the ferocity of the panther, the cruelty of the -wolf, the treachery of the bear, the hate of the serpent, and the rage -of the boar. Monsieur l'Apache had evidently chosen the Legion as a -preferable alternative to the hulks and the chain-gang--Algeria rather -than Noumea. He lived to doubt the wisdom of his choice. - -Beside him, and evidently eyeing him askance, stood two youths as -extraordinarily similar as were ever twins in this world. Dark, -slightly "rat-faced," slender, but decidedly athletic looking. - -"Cheer up, _golubtchik_! If one cannot get _vodka_ one must drink -_kvass_," whispered one. - -"All right, Fedia," replied the other. "But I am so hungry and tired. -What wouldn't I give for some good hot tea and _blinni_!" - -"We're bound to get something of some sort before long--though it won't -be _zakuska_. Don't give way on the very threshold now. It is our one -chance, or I would not have brought you here, Olichka." - -"Ssh!" whispered back the other. "Don't call me that here, Feodor." - -"Of course not, Mikhail, stout fellow," replied Feodor, and smote his -companion on the back. - -Regarding them, sharp-eyed, stood the Cockney, an undersized, -narrow-chested, but wiry-looking person--a typical East End sparrow; -impudent, assertive, thoroughly self-reliant, tenacious, and courageous; -of the class that produces admirable specimens of the genus "Tommy." - -In curious contrast to his look of _gamin_ alertness was that of his -neighbour, a most stolid, dull and heavy-looking Dutchman, whose sole -conversational effort was the grunt "_Verstaan nie_," whenever -addressed. Like every other member of the draft he appeared "to feel -his position" keenly, and distinctly to deplore it. Such expression as -his bovine face possessed, suggested that Algerian sun and sands -compared unfavourably with Dutch mists and polders, and the -barrack-square of the Legion with the fat and comfortable stern of a -Scheldt canal boat. - -Square-headed, flat-faced Germans, gesticulating Alsatians and -Lorraines, fair Swiss, and Belgians, with a sprinkling of Italians, -swarthy Spaniards, Austrians and French, made up the remainder of the -party, men whose status, age, appearance, bearing, and origins were as -diverse as their nationalities levelled by a common desperate need (of -food, or sanctuary, or a fresh start in life), and united by a common -filthiness, squalor, and dejection--a gang powerless in the bonds of -hunger and fear, delivered bound into the relentless, grinding mills of -the Legion. - -And thus, distinguished and apart, though in their midst, stood the -well-dressed Englishman, apparently calm, incurious, with equal mind; -his linen fresh, his face shaven, his clothing uncreased, his air rather -that of one who awaits the result of the footman's enquiry as to whether -Her Ladyship is "at home" to him. - -More and more, the heart of Sir Montague Merline warmed to this young -man of his own race and class, with his square shoulders, flat back, -calm bearing, and hard high look. He approved and admired his air and -appearance of being a Man, a Gentleman, and a Soldier. Had he a son, it -was just such a youth as this he would have him be. - -"Any 'Murricans thar?" suddenly bawled the Bucking Bronco. - -"Nao," replied the Cockney youth, craning forward. "But I'm -Henglish--which is better any d'y in the week, ain't it?" - -The eye of the large American travelled slowly and deliberately from the -crown of the head to the tip of the toe of the Cockney, and back. He -then said nothing--with some eloquence. - -"Say, ma honey, yew talk U.S. any?" queried a gigantic Negro, in the -uniform of the Legion (presumably recruited in France as a free American -citizen of Anglo-Saxon speech), addressing himself to the tall -Englishman. "Youse ain't Dago, nor Dutchie, nor French. Cough it up, -Bo, right hyar ef youse U.S." - -The eyes of the young Englishman narrowed slightly, and his naturally -haughty expression appeared to deepen toward one of contempt and -disgust. Otherwise he took no notice of the Negro, nor of his question. - -Remarking, "Some poah white trash," the Negro turned to the next man -with the same query. - -Cries in various tongues, such as "Anybody from Spain?" "Anyone from -Vienna?" "Any Switzers about?" and similar attempts by the crowding, -jostling Legionaries to discover a compatriot, and possibly a "towny," -evoked gleams and glances of interest from the haggard, wretched eyes of -the "blues," and, occasionally, answering cries from their grim and -grimy lips. - -A swaggering, strutting Sergeant emerged from the neighbouring -regimental offices, roared "_Garde a vous_," brought the recruits to -attention, and called the roll. As prophesied by Legionary John Bull, -the whole draft was assigned to the Seventh Company, recently depleted -by the desertion, en masse, of a _cafard_-smitten German _escouade_, or -section, who had gone "on pump," merely to die in the desert at the -hands of the Arabs--several horribly tortured, all horribly mangled. - -Having called the roll, this Sergeant, not strictly following the -example of the Sergeant of the Guard, looked the draft over more in -anger than in sorrow. - -"Oh, Name of the Name of Beautiful Beelzebub," bawled he, "but what have -we here? To _drill_ such worm-casts! Quel metier! Quel chien d'un -metier! Stand up, stand up, oh sons of Arab mothers and pariah dogs," -and then, feigning sudden and unconquerable sickness, he turned upon the -Corporal in charge with a roar of-- - -"March these sacred pigs to their accursed sties." - -As the heterogeneous gang stepped off at the word of command, "_En -avant. Marche!_" toward the Quartermaster's store of the Seventh -Company, it was clear to the experienced eye that the great majority -were "Back to the army again," and were either deserters, or men who had -already put in their military service in the armies of their own -countries. - -In the store-room they were endowed by the _Fourrier-Sergent_, to the -accompaniment of torrential profanity, with white fatigue-uniforms, -night-caps, rough shirts, harsh towels, and scraps of soap. From the -store-room the squad was "personally conducted" by another, and even -more terrible, Sergeant to a washing-shed beyond the drill-ground, and -bidden to soap and scour itself, and then stand beneath the primitive -shower-baths until purged and clean as never before in its unspeakable -life. - -As they neared the washing-shed, the bare idea of ablutions, or the idea -of bare ablutions, appeared to strike consternation, if not positive -terror, into the heart of at least one member of the squad, for the -young Russian who had been addressed by his twin as Mikhail suddenly -seized the other's arm and said with a gasp-- - -"Oh, Fedichka, how can I? Oh Fedia, Fedia, what shall I do?" - -"We must trust in God, and use our wits, Olusha. I will..." - -But a roar of "Silence, Oh Son of Seven Pigs," from the Sergeant, cut -him short as they reached the shed. - -"Now strip and scrub your mangy skins, you dogs. Scrape your crawling -hides until the floor is thick in hog-bristles and earth, oh -Great-grandsons of Sacred Swine," he further adjured the wretched -"blues," with horrible threats and fearful oaths. - -"Wash, you mud-caked vermin, wash, for the carcase of the Legionary must -be as spotless as the Fame of the Legion, or the honour of its smartest -Sergeant--Sergeant Legros," and he lapped his bulging chest lest any -Boeotian present should be ignorant of the identity of Sergeant Legros -of the Legion. - -Walking up and down before the doorless stalls in which the naked -recruits washed, Sergeant Legros hurled taunts, gibes, insults, and -curses at his charges, stopping from time to time to give special -attention to anyone who had the misfortune to acquire his particular -regard. Pausing to stare at the tall Englishman in affected disgust at -the condition of his brilliant and glowing skin, he enquired-- - -"Is that a vest, disclosed by scrubbing and the action of water? Or is -it your hide, pig?" And was somewhat taken aback by the cool and -pleasant reply, - -"No, that is not a new, pink silk vest that you see, Sergeant, it really -is my own skin--but many thanks for the kind compliment, none the less." - -Sergeant Legros eyed the recruit with something dimly and distantly akin -to pity. Mad as a March hare, poor wretch, of course--it could not be -intentional impudence--and the Sergeant smiled austerely--he would -probably die in the cells ere long, if _le cafard_ did not send him to -the Zephyrs, the firing-platoon, or the Arabs. Mad to begin with! Ho! -Ho! What a jest!--and the Sergeant chuckled. - -But what was this? Did the good Sergeant's eyes deceive him? Or was -there, in the next compartment, a lousy, lazy "blue" pretending to -cleanse his foul and sinful carcase without completely stripping? The -young Russian, Mikhail, standing with his back to the doorway, was -unenthusiastically washing the upper part of his body. - -Sergeant Legros stiffened like a pointer, at the sight. Rank -disobedience! Flagrant defiance of orders, coupled with the laziest and -filthiest indifference to cleanliness! This vile "blue" would put the -Legion's clean shirt and canvas fatigue-suit on an indifferently washen -body, would he? Let him wait until he was a Legionary, and no longer a -recruit--and he should learn something of the powers of the Sergeant -Legros. - -"Off with those trousers, thou mud-caked flea-bitten scum," he -thundered, and then received perhaps the greatest surprise of a -surprising life. For, ere the offending recruit could turn, or obey, -there danced forth from the next cubicle, with a wild whoop, his exact -double, who, naked as he was born, turned agile somersaults and -Catherine-wheels past the astounded Sergeant, down the front of the -bathing-shed, and round the corner. - -"Sacre Nom de Nom de Bon Dieu-de-Dieu!" ejaculated Sergeant Legros, and -rubbed his eyes. He then displayed a sample of the mental quickness of -the trained Legionary in darting to the neighbouring corner of the -building instead of running down the entire front in the wake of the -vanished acrobat. - -Dashing along the short side-wall, Sergeant Legros turned the corner and -beheld the errant lunatic approaching in the same literally -revolutionary manner. - -On catching sight of the Sergeant, the naked recruit halted, and broke -into song and dance, the latter being of that peculiarly violent Cossack -variety which constrains the performer to crouch low to earth and fling -out his legs, alternately, straight before him. - -For the first time in his life, words failed Sergeant Legros. For some -moments he could but stand over the dancer and gesticulate and stutter. -Rising to his feet with an engaging smile--. - -"Ca va mieux, mon pere?" observed the latter amiably. - -Seizing him by arm and neck, the apoplectic Sergeant Legros conducted -this weird disciple of Terpsichore back to his cubicle, while his mazed -mind fumbled in the treasure-house of his vocabulary, and the armoury of -his weapons of punishment. - -Apparently there was method, however, in the madness of Feodor -Kyrilovitch Malekov, for a distinct look of relief and satisfaction -crossed his face as, in the midst of a little crowd of open-mouthed, and -half-clothed recruits, he caught sight of his brother in complete -fatigue-uniform. - -Gradually, and very perceptibly the condition of Sergeant Legros -improved. His halting recriminations and imprecations became a steady -trickle, the trickle a flow, the flow a torrent, and the torrent an -overwhelming deluge. By the time he had almost exhausted his vocabulary -and himself, he began to see the humorous and interesting aspect of -finding two lunatics in one small draft. He would add them to his -collection of butts. Possibly one, or both of them, might even come to -equal the Mad Grasshopper in that role. Fancy more editions of La -Cigale--who had provided him with more amusement and opportunities for -brutality than any ten sane Legionaries! - -"Now, do great and unmerited honour to your vile, low carcases by -putting on the fatigue-uniform of the Legion. Gather up your filthy -civilian rags, and hasten," he bawled. - -And when the, now wondrously metamorphosed, recruits had all dressed in -the new canvas uniforms, they were marched to a small side gate in the -wall of the barrack-square, and ordered to sell immediately everything -they possessed in the shape of civilian clothing, including boots and -socks. Civilian clothing is essential to the would-be deserter, and La -Legion does not facilitate desertion. - -That the unfortunate recruits got the one or two francs they did receive -was solely due to the absence of a "combine" among the scoundrelly -Arabs, Greeks, Spanish Jews, Negroes, and nondescript rogues who -struggled for the cast-off clothing. For the Englishman's expensive -suit a franc was offered, and competition advanced this price to four. -For the sum of five francs he had to sell clothes, hat, boots, collar, -tie, and underclothing that had recently cost him over fifty times as -much. That he felt annoyed, and that, in spite of his apparent -nonchalance, his temper was wearing thin, was evidenced by the fact that -a big Arab who laid a grimy paw upon his shoulder and snatched at his -bundle, received the swift blow of dissuasion--a sudden straight-left in -the eye, sending him flying--to the amusement and approval of the sentry -whose difficult and arduous task it was to keep the scrambling, yelling -thieves of old-clo' dealers from invading the barrack-square, and -repentant recruits from quitting it. - -When the swindle of the forced sale was complete, and several poor -wretches had parted with their all for a few _sous_, the gate was shut -and the weary squad marched to the offices of the Seventh Company that -each man's name and profession might be entered in the Company Roll, and -that he might receive his _matricule_ number, the number which would -henceforth hide his identity, and save him the trouble of retaining a -personality and a name. - -To Colour-Sergeant Blanc, the tall English youth, like most Legionaries, -gave a _nom d'emprunt_, two of his own names, Reginald Rupert. He -concealed his surname and sullied the crystal truth of fact by stating -that his father was the Commander-in-Chief of the Horse Marines of Great -Britain and Inspector-General of the Royal Naval Horse Artillery; that -he himself was by profession a wild-rabbit-tamer, and by conviction a -Plymouth Rock--all of which was duly and solemnly entered in the great -tome by M. Blanc, a man taciturn, _tres boutonne_, and of no -imagination. - -Whatever the recruit may choose to say is written down in the Company -lists, and should a recruit wax a little humorous, why--the Legion will -very soon cure him of any tendency to humour. The Legion asks no -questions, answers none, takes the recruit at his own valuation, and -quickly readjusts it for him. Reconducted to the Store-room of the -Seventh Company, the batch of recruits, again to the accompaniment of a -fusillade of imprecations, and beneath a torrential deluge of insults -and oaths, was violently tailored by a number of non-commissioned -officers, and a fatigue-party of Legionnaires. - -To "Reginald Rupert," at any rate, the badges of rank worn by the -non-commissioned officers were mysterious and confusing--as he noted a -man with one chevron giving peremptory orders in loud tone and bullying -manner to a man who wore two chevrons. It also puzzled him that the fat -man, who was evidently the senior official present, was addressed by the -others as "_chef_," as though he were a cook. By the time he was fitted -out with kit and accoutrement, he had decided that the "chef" (who wore -two gold chevrons) was a Sergeant-Major, that the men wearing one gold -chevron were Sergeants, and that those wearing two red ones were -Corporals; and herein he was entirely correct. - -Every man had to fit (rather than be fitted with) a red kepi having a -brass grenade in front; a double-breasted, dark blue tunic with red -facings and green-fringed red epaulettes; a big blue greatcoat, or -_capote_; baggy red breeches; two pairs of boots; two pairs of linen -spats, and a pair of leather gaiters. He also received a long blue -woollen cummerbund, a knapsack of the old British pattern, a bag of -cleaning materials, belts, straps, cartridge-pouches, haversack, and -field flask. - -To the fat Sergeant-Major it was a personal insult, and an impudence -amounting almost to blasphemy, that a kepi, or tunic should not fit the -man to whom it was handed. The idea of adapting a ready-made garment to -a man appeared less prominent than that of adapting a ready-made man to -a garment. - -"What!" he roared in Legion French, to the fat German boy who understood -not a word of the tirade. "What? Nom d'un petard! Sacre Dieu! The -tunic will not easily button? Then contract thy vile body until it -will, thou offspring of a diseased pig and a dead dog. I will fit thee -to that tunic, and none other, within the week. Wait! But wait--till -thou has eaten the Breakfast of the Legion once or twice, fat sow...." - -A gloomy, sardonic Legionary placed a kepi upon the crisply curling hair -of Reginald Rupert. It was miles too big--a ludicrous extinguisher. -The Englishman removed it, and returned it with the remark, "Ca ne -marche pas, mon ami." - -"_Merde!_" ejaculated the liverish-looking soldier, and called Heaven to -witness that he was not to blame if the son of a beetle had a walnut for -a head. - -Throwing the kepi back into the big box he fished out another, banged it -on Rupert's head, and was about to bring his open hand down on the top -of it, when he caught the cold but blazing eye of the recruit, and -noticed the clenched fist and lips. Had the Legionary's right hand -descended, the recruit's left hand would have risen with promptitude and -force. - -"If that is too big, let the sun boil thy brains and bloat thy skull -till it fits, and if it be too small, sleep in it," he remarked sourly, -and added that thrice-accursed "blues" were creatures of the kind that -ate their young, encumbered the earth, polluted the air, loved to _faire -Suisse_,[#] and troubled Soldiers of the Legion who might otherwise have -been in the Canteen, or at Carmelita's--instead of being the valets of -sons of frogs, nameless excrescences.... - - -[#] To drink alone; to sulk. - - -"Too small," replied Rupert coolly, and flung the cap into the box. -"Valet? I should condole with a crocodile that had a clumsy and -ignorant yokel like you for a valet," he added, in slow and careful -French as he tried on a third cap, which he found more to his liking. - -The old Legionary gasped. - -"Il m'enmerde!" he murmured, and wiped his brow. He, Jules Duplessis, -Soldat 1ere Classe, with four years' service and the _medaille -militaire_, had been outfaced, browbeaten, insulted by a miserable -"blue." What were the World and La Legion coming to? "_Merde!_" - -While trying on his tunic, Rupert saw one of the Russians hand to the -other the tunic and trousers which he had tried on. Apparently being as -alike as two pins in every respect they had adopted the labour-saving -device of one "fitting on" for both. - -Having put on the kepi, Mikhail bundled up the uniform, struck an -attitude with arms akimbo, and inquired of the other-- - -"Do I look _very_ awful in this thing, Fedia?" - -"Shut up, you little fool," replied Feodor, with a quick frown. "Try -and look more like a _mujik_ in _maslianitza_,[#] and less like a young -student at private theatricals. You're a Legionary now." - - -[#] The week before Lent, or "mad week," when all good _mujiks_ get -drunk--or used to do. - - -When, at length, the recruits had all been fitted into uniforms, and -were ready to depart, they were driven forth with the heart-felt curse -and comprehensive anathema of the Sergeant-Major-- - -"Sweep the room clear of this offal, Corporal," quoth he. "And if thou -canst make a Legionnaire's little toe out of the whole draft--thou shalt -have the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour--I promise it." - -"_En avant. Marche!_" bawled the Corporal, and the "blues" were led -away, up flights of stairs, and along echoing corridors to their future -home, their new quarters. A Legionnaire, carrying a huge earthenware -jug, encountering them outside the door thereof, gave them their first -welcome to the Legion. - -"Oh thrice-condemned souls, welcome to Hell," he cried genially, and -kicking open the door of a huge room, he liberally sprinkled each -passing recruit, murmuring as he did so-- - -"Le diable vous benisse." - - - - - CHAPTER II - - A BARRACK-ROOM OF THE LEGION - - -The room which Reginald Rupert entered, with a dozen of his fellow -"blues," was long and lofty, painfully orderly, and spotlessly clean. -Fifteen cots were exactly aligned on each long side, and down the middle -of the floor ran long wooden tables and benches, scoured and polished to -immaculate whiteness. Above each bed was a shelf on which was piled a -very neat erection of uniforms and kit. To the eye of Rupert -(experienced in barrack-rooms) there was interesting novelty in the -absence of clothes-boxes, and the presence of hanging-cupboards -suspended over the tables from the ceiling. - -Evidently the French authorities excelled the English in the art of -economising space, as nothing was on the floor that could be -accommodated above it. In the hanging cupboards were tin plates and cups -and various utensils of the dinner-table. - -The Englishman noted that though the Lebel rifles stood in a rack in a -corner of the room, the long sword-bayonets hung by the pillows of their -owners, each near a tin quart-pot and a small sack. - -On their beds, a few Legionnaires lay sleeping, or sat laboriously -polishing their leatherwork--the senseless, endless and detested -_astiquage_ of the Legion--or cleaning their rifles, bayonets, and -buttons. Whatever else the Legionnaire is, or is not, he is -meticulously clean, neat, and smart, and when his day's work is done (at -four or five o'clock) he must start a half-day's work in "making -_fantasie_"--in preparation for the day's work of the morrow. - -Rising from his bed in the corner as the party entered, Legionary John -Bull approached the Corporal in charge of the room and suggested that -the English recruit should be allotted the bed between his own and that -of Legionnaire Bronco, as he was of the same mother-tongue, and would -make quicker progress in their hands than in those of foreigners. As -the Corporal, agreeing, indicated the second bed from the window, to -Rupert, and told him to take possession of it and make his _paquetage_ -on the shelf above, the Cockney recruit pushed forward: - -"'Ere, I'm Henglish too! I better jine these blokes." - -"Qu'est-ce-qu'il dit, Jean Boule?" enquired the Corporal. - -On being informed, Corporal Achille Martel allotted the fourth bed, that -on the other side of the Bucking Bronco, to Recruit Higgins with an -intimation that the sooner he learnt French, and ceased the use of -barbarous tongues the better it would be for his welfare. The Corporal -then assigned berths to the remaining recruits, each between those of -two old soldiers, of whom the right-hand man was to be the new recruit's -guide, philosopher and friend, until he, in his turn, became a prideful, -full-blown Legionary. - -The young Russian who had given his name as Mikhail Kyrilovitch Malekov -observed that the card at the head of the cot on his right-hand bore the -inscription: "Luigi Rivoli, No. 13874, Soldat 2ieme Classe." - -As he stood, irresolute, and apparently in great anxiety and -perturbation, nervously opening and shutting a cartridge-pouch, his face -suddenly brightened as his twin entered the room and intercepted the -departing Corporal. - -"_Mille pardons_, Monsieur," he said, saluting smartly and respectfully. -"But I earnestly and humbly request that you will permit me to inhabit -this room in which is my brother. As we reached this door another -_sous-officier_ took me and the remainder to the next room when twelve -had entered here.... Alas! My brother was twelfth, and I thirteenth," -he added volubly. "Look you, Monsieur, he is my twin, and we have never -been separated yet. We shall get on much faster and better, helping -each other, and be more credit to you and your room, _petit pere_." - -"Sacre Dieu, and Name of a Purple Frog! Is this a scurvy and lousy -beggar, whining for alms at a mosque door? And am I a God-forsaken and -disgusting _pekin_ that you address me as 'Monsieur'? Name of a Pipe! -Have I no rank? Address me henceforth as Monsieur le Caporal, thou -kopeck-worth of Russian." - -"Oui, oui; milles pardons, Monsieur le Caporal. But grant me this favour -and I and my brother will be your slaves." - -"Va t'en, babillard! Rompez, jaseur!" snarled the Corporal. - -But the Russian, true to type, was tenacious. Producing a five-franc -piece he scratched his nose therewith, and dropping the wheedling and -suppliant tone, asked the testy Corporal if he thought it likely -Messieurs les Caporaux of the Seventh Company could possibly be induced -to drink the health of so insignificant an object as Recruit Feodor -Kyrilovitch Malekov. - -"Corporals do not drink with Legionnaires," was the answer, "but -doubtless Corporal Gilles of the next room will join me in a drink to -the health of a worthy and promising 'blue,'" and, removing his kepi, he -stretched his gigantic frame and yawned hugely as the Russian -dexterously, and apparently unnoticed, slipped the coin into the kepi. -Having casually examined the lining of his kepi, Monsieur le Caporal -Martel replaced it on his head, and with astounding suddenness and -ferocity pounced upon an ugly, tow-haired German, and with a shout of -"Out, pig! Out of my beautiful room! Thy face disfigures it," he -hunted him forth and bestowed him upon the neighbouring Corporal, M. -Auguste Gilles, together with a promise of ten bottles of Madame la -Cantiniere's best, out of the thirty-and-five which the Russian's -five-franc piece would purchase. - -In a moment the Russian had opened negotiations with the Spaniard who -had taken the bed next but one to that of Mikhail. - -Like all educated Russians, Feodor Kyrilovitch was an accomplished -linguist, and, while speaking French and English idiomatically, could -get along very comfortably in Spanish, Italian, and German. - -A very few minutes enabled him to make it clear to the Spaniard that an -exchange of beds would do him no harm, and enrich him by a two-franc -piece. - -"No hay de que, Senor. Gracias, muchas gracias," replied the Spaniard. -"En seguida, con se permiso," and transferred himself and his belongings -to the berth vacated by the insulted and dispossessed German. - -Meanwhile, Reginald Rupert, with soldierly promptitude, lost no time in -setting about the brushing and arrangement of his kit, gathering up, as -he did so, the pearls of local wisdom that fell from the lips of his -kindly mentor, whose name and description he observed to be "Legionnaire -John Bull, No. 11867, Soldat 2ieme Classe." - -Having shown his pupil the best and quickest way of folding his uniform -in elbow-to-finger-tip lengths, and so arranging everything that he -could find it in the dark, and array himself _en tenue de campagne -d'Afrique_ in ten minutes without a light, he invited him to try his own -hand at the job. - -"Now you try and make that '_paquetage_ of the Legion,'" observed the -instructor, "and the sooner you learn to make it quickly, the better. -As you see, you have no chest for your kit as you had in the British -Army, and so you keep your uniform on your shelf, _en paquetage_, for -tidiness and smartness, without creases. The Legionnaire is as _chic_ -and particular as the best trooper of the crackest English -cavalry-corps. We look down on the _piou-piou_ from a fearful height, -and swagger against the _Chasseur d'Afrique_ himself. I wish to God we -had spurs, but there's no cavalry in the Legion--though there are kinds -of Mounted-Rifle Companies on mules, down South. I miss spurs damnably, -even after fourteen years of foot-slogging in the Legion. You can't -really swagger without spurs--not that the women will look at a -Legionary in any case, or the men respect him, save as a fighter. But -you can't swing without spurs." - -"No," agreed Rupert, "I was just thinking I should miss them, and it'll -take me some time to get used to a night-cap, a neck-curtained kepi, a -knapsack, and a steel bayonet-scabbard." - -"You'll appreciate the first when you sleep out, and the second when you -march, down South. The nights are infernally cold, and the days -appallingly hot--and yet sunstroke is unknown in the Legion. Some put -it down to wearing the overcoat to march in. The steel scabbard is -bad--noisy and heavy. The knapsack is the very devil on the march, but -it's the one and only place in the world in which you can keep a photo, -letter, book, or scrap of private property, besides spare uniform and -small kit. You'll soon learn to pack it, to stow underclothing in the -haversack, and to know the place for everything, so that you can get -from bed to barrack-square, fully equipped and accoutred in nine minutes -from the bugle.... And don't, for Heaven's sake, lose anything, for a -spiteful N.C.O. can send you to your death in Biribi--that's the Penal -Battalion--by running you in two or three times for 'theft of -equipment.' Lost kit is regarded as stolen kit, and stolen kit is sold -kit (to a court-martial), and the penalty is six months with the -Zephyrs. It takes a good man to survive that.... If you've got any -money, try and keep a little in hand, so that you can always replace -missing kit. The fellows here are appalling thieves--of uniform. It is -regarded as a right, natural and proper thing to steal uniforms and kit, -and yet we'd nearly kill a man who stole money, tobacco, or food. The -former would be 'decorating' yourself, the latter disgracing yourself. -We've some queer beasts here, but we're a grand regiment." - -The disorderly heap of garments having become an exceedingly neat and -ingenious little edifice, compact, symmetrical, and stable, Rupert's -instructor introduced the subject of that bane of the Legionary's -life--the eternal _astiquage_, the senseless and eternal polishing of -the black leather straps and large cartridge-pouches. - -"This stuff looks as though it had been left here by the Tenth Legion of -Julius Caesar, rather than made for the Foreign Legion," he remarked. -"Let's see what we can make of it. Watch me do this belt, and then you -can try the cartridge-cases. Don't mind firing off all the questions -you've got to ask, meanwhile." - -"Thanks. What sort of chaps are they in this room?" asked Rupert, -seating himself on the bed beside his friendly preceptor, and inwardly -congratulating himself on his good luck in meeting, on the threshold of -his new career, so congenial and satisfactory a bunk-mate. - -"Very mixed," was the reply. "The fellow on the other side of your -berth is an American, an _ex_-U.S.A. army man, miner, lumber-jack, -tramp, cow-boy, bruiser, rifle and revolver trick-shooter, and my very -dear friend, one of the whitest men I ever met, and one of the most -amusing. His French conversation keeps me alive by making me laugh, and -he's learning Italian from a twopenny dictionary, and a Travellers' -Phrase Book, the better to talk to Carmelita. The next but one is a -Neapolitan who calls himself Luigi Rivoli. He used to be a champion -Strong Man, and music-hall wrestler, acrobat, and juggler. Did a bit of -lion-taming too, or, at any rate, went about with a show that had a -cageful of mangy performing lions. He is not really very brave though, -but he's a most extraordinary strong brute. Quite a millionaire here -too, for Carmelita gives him a whole franc every day of his life." - -"What made him enlist then?" asked Rupert, carefully watching the -curious _astiquage_ methods, so different from the pipe-clay to which he -was accustomed. - -"This same girl, and she's worth a thousand of Rivoli. It seems she -pretended to turn him down, and take up with some other chap to punish -Rivoli after some lover's quarrel or other, and our Luigi in a fit of -jealous madness stabbed the other chap in the back, and then bolted and -enlisted in the Legion, partly to pay her out, but chiefly to save -himself. He was doing a turn at a _cafe-chantant_ over in Algiers at -the time. Of course, Carmelita flung herself in transports of grief, -repentance, and self-accusation upon Luigi's enormous bosom, and keeps -him in pocket-money while she waits for him. She followed him, and runs -a _cafe_ for Legionnaires here in Sidi-bel-Abbes. She gets scores of -offers from our Non-coms., and from Frenchmen of the regular army -stationed in Sidi, and her _cafe_ is a sort of little Italian club. My -friend, the Bucking Bronco, proposes to her once a week, but she remains -true to Luigi, whom she intends to marry as soon as he has done his -time. The swine's carrying on at the same time with Madame la -Cantiniere, who is a widow, and whose canteen he would like to marry. -Between the two women he has a good time, and, thanks to Carmelita's -money, gets all his work done for him. The brute never does a stroke. -Pays substitutes for all fatigues and corvees, has his kit and -accoutrements polished, and his clothes washed. Spends the balance of -Carmelita's money at the Canteen, ingratiating himself with Madame! -Keeps up his great strength with extra food too. He is a Hercules, and, -moreover, seems immune from African fever and _le cafard_, which is -probably due to his escaping three-parts of the work done by the average -penniless. And he's as nasty as he is strong." - -"What's his particular line of nastiness--besides cheating women I -mean?" asked Rupert, who already knew only too well how much depends on -the character, conduct, manners, and habits of room-mates with whom one -is thrown into daily and nightly intimate contact, year after year, -without change, relief, or hope of improvement. - -"Oh, he's the Ultimate Bounder," replied the other, as he struck a match -and began melting a piece of wax with which to rub his leather belt. -"He's the Compleat Cad, and the Finished Bully. He's absolute monarch -of the rank-and-file of the Seventh Company by reason of his vast -wealth, and vaster strength. Those he does not bribe he intimidates. -Remember that the Wages of Virtue here is one halfpenny a day as opposed -to the Wages of Sin which is rather worse than death. - -"Think of the position of a man who has the income of all in this room -put together, in addition to the run of his best girl's own _cafe_. -What with squaring Non-coms., hiring substitutes, and terrorising -'fags,' he hasn't done a stroke, outside parades of course, since he -joined--except hazing recruits, and breaking up opponents of his rule." - -"How does he fight?" asked Rupert. - -"Well, wrestling's his _forte_--and he can break the back of any man he -gets his arms round--and the rest's a mixture of boxing, ju-jitsu, and -_la savate_, which, as you know, is kicking. Yes, he's a dirty tighter, -though it's precious rarely that it comes to what you could call a -fight. What I'm waiting for is the most unholy and colossal turn-up -that's due to come between him and Buck sooner or later. It's bound to -come, and it'll be a scrap worth seeing. Buck has been a professional -glove-man among other things, and he holds less conservative views than -I do, as to what is permissible against an opponent who kicks, clinches, -and butts.... No, fighting's apt to be rather a dirty business here, -and, short of a proper duel, a case of stand face to face and do all you -can with all Nature's weapons, not forgetting your teeth.... '_C'est la -Legion._'" - -"How disgustin'!" murmured the young man. "Will this bird trouble me?" - -"He will," answered the other, "but I'll take a hand, and then Buck will -too. He hates Luigi like poison, and frequently remarks that he has it -in for him when the time comes, and Luigi isn't over anxious to tackle -him, though he hankers. Doesn't understand him, nor like the look in -his eye. Buck is afraid of angering Carmelita if he 'beats up' -Rivoli.... Yes, I dare say Buck and I can put the gentle Neapolitan off -between us." - -Reginald Rupert stiffened. - -"I beg that you will in no way interfere," he observed coldly. "I -should most strongly resent it." - -The heart of the old soldier warmed to the youth, as he contrasted his -slim boyish grace with the mighty strength, natural and developed, of -the professional Strong Man, Wrestler, and Acrobat--most tricky, -cunning, and dangerous of relentless foes. - -"You keep clear of Luigi Rivoli as long as you can," he said with a -kindly smile. "And at least remember that Buck and I are with you. -Personally, I'm no sort of match for our Luigi in a rough-and-tumble -nowadays, should he compel one. But he has let me alone since I told -him with some definiteness that he would have to defend himself with -either lead or steel, if he insisted on trouble between him and me." - -"There now," he continued, rising, "now try that for yourself on a -cartridge-pouch.... First melt the wax a bit, with a match--and don't -forget that matches are precious in the Legion as they're so damned -dear--and rub it on the leather as I did. Then take this flat block of -wood and smooth it over until it's all evenly spread. And then rub hard -with the coarse rag for an hour or two, then harder with the fine rag -for about half an hour. Next polish with your palm, and then with the -wool. Buck and I own a scrap of velvet which you can borrow before -Inspection Parades, and big shows--but we don't use it extravagantly of -course.... - -"Well, that's the _astiquage_ curse, and the other's washing white kit -without soap, and ironing it without an iron. Of course, Madame la -Republique couldn't give us glazed leather, or khaki webbing--nor could -she afford to issue one flat-iron to a barrack-room, so that we could -iron a white suit in less than a couple of hours.... The devil of it is -that it's all done in our 'leisure' time when we're supposed to be -resting, or recreating.... Think of the British 'Tommy' in India with -his _dhobi_, his barrack-sweeper, his table-servant, and his _syce_--or -his share in them. If we did nothing in the world but our daily -polishing, washing and ironing, we should be busy men. However! '_C'est -la Legion!_' And one won't live for ever.... You won't want any help -with the rifle and bayonet, I suppose?" - -"No, thanks, I've 'had some,' though I haven't handled a Lebel before," -and Reginald Rupert settled down to work while Legionary John Bull -proceeded with his toilet. - -"Anything else you want to know?" enquired the latter, as he put a final -polish upon his gleaming sword-bayonet. "You know enough not to cut -your rifle-sling stropping your razor on it.... Don't waste your cake -of soap making a candlestick of it. Too rare and precious here." - -"Well, thanks very much; the more you tell me, the better for me, if -it's not troubling you, Sir." - -John Bull paused and looked at the recruit. - -"Why do you call me 'Sir'?" he enquired. - -"Why? ... Because you are senior and a Sahib, I suppose," replied the -youth. - -"Thanks, my boy, but don't. I am just Legionnaire John Bull 11867, -Soldier of the Second Class. You'll be a soldier of the First Class, -and my senior in a few months, I hope.... I suppose you've assumed a -_nom de guerre_ too," replied the other, making a mental note that the -recruit had served in India. He had already observed that he pointed -his toes as he walked, and had a general cavalry bearing. - -"Yes, I gave part of my own name; I'm 'Reginald Rupert' now. Didn't see -why I should give my own. I've only come to have a look round and learn -a bit. Very keen on experiences, especially military ones." - -"Merciful God!" ejaculated John Bull softly. "Out for experiences! -You'll get 'em, here." - -"Keen on seein' life, y'know," explained the young man. - -"Much more likely to see death," replied the other. "Do you realise that -you're in for five years--and that no money, no influence, no diplomatic -representations, no extradition can buy, or beg, or drag you out; and -that by the end of five years, if alive, you'll be lucky if you're of -any use to the Legion, to yourself, or to anyone else? I, personally, -have had unusual luck, and am of unusual physique. I re-enlisted twice, -partly because at the end of each five years I was turned loose with -nothing in the world but a shapeless blue slop suit--partly for other -reasons...." - -"Oh! I've only come for a year, and shall desert. I told them so -plainly at the enlistment bureau, in Paris," was the ingenuous reply. - -The old Legionary smiled. - -"A good many of our people desert, at least once," he said, "when under -the influence of _le cafard_--especially the Germans. Ninety-nine per -cent come to one of three ends--death, capture, or surrender. Death with -torture at the hands of the Arabs; capture, or ignominious return and -surrender after horrible sufferings from thirst, starvation and -exposure." - -"Yes; I heard the Legion was a grand military school, and a pretty warm -thing, and that desertion was a bit of a feat, and no disgrace if you -brought it off--so I thought I'd have a year of the one, and then a shot -at the other," replied the young man coolly. "Also, I was up against it -somewhat, and well--you know--seeking sorrow." - -"You've come to the right place for it then," observed Legionary John -Bull, sheathing his bayonet with a snap, as the door banged open.... -"Ah! Enter our friend Luigi," he added as that worthy swaggered into -the room with an obsequious retinue, which included le bon Legionnaire -Edouard Malvin, looking very smart and dapper in the uniform of -Legionnaire Alphonse Dupont of the Eleventh Company. - -"Pah! I smell 'blues'! Disgusting! Sickening!" ejaculated Legionnaire -Luigi Rivoli in a tremendous voice, and stood staring menacingly from -recruit to recruit. - -Reginald Rupert, returning his hot, insolent glare with a cold and -steady stare, beheld a huge and powerful-looking man with a pale, cruel -face, coarsely handsome, wherein the bold, heavily lashed black eyes -were set too close together beneath their broad, black, knitted brows, -and the little carefully curled black moustache, beneath the little -plebeian nose, hid nothing of the over-ripe red lips of an over-small -mouth. - -"Corpo di Bacco!" he roared in Italian and Legion French. "The place -reeks of the stinking 'blues.' Were it not that I now go _en ville_ to -dine and drink my Chianti wine (none of your filthy Algerian slops for -Luigi Rivoli), and to smoke my _sigaro estero_ at my _cafe_, I would -fling them all down three flights of stairs," and, like his companions, -he commenced stripping off his white uniform. Having bared his truly -magnificent arms and chest, he struck an attitude, ostentatiously -contracted his huge right biceps, and smote it a resounding smack with -the palm of his left hand. - -"Aha!" he roared, as all turned to look at him. - -"Disgustin' bounder," remarked Reginald Rupert very distinctly, as, with -a second shout of "Aha!" Rivoli did the same with the left biceps and -right hand, and then bunched the vast _pectoralis major_ muscles of his -chest. - -"Magnifique:" cried Legionnaire Edouard Malvin, who was laying out his -patron's uniform from his _paquetage_, preparatory to helping him to -dress. - -"As thou sayest, my _gallo_, 'C'est magnifique,'" replied Luigi Rivoli, -and for five minutes contracted, flexed, and slapped the great muscles -of his arms, shoulders, and chest. - -"Come hither--thou little bambino Malvin, thou Bad Wine, thou Cattevo -Vino Francese, and stand behind me.... What of the back? Canst thou -see the 'bull's head' as I set the _trapezius_, _rhomboideus_, and -_latissimus dorsi_ muscles?" - -"As clearly as I see your own head, Main de Fer," replied the Austrian -in affected astonishment and wonder. "It is the World's Most Wonderful -Back! Why, were Maxick and Saldo, Hackenschmidt, the three Saxons, -Sandow--yea--Samson and Hercules themselves here, all would be -humiliated and envious." - -"Aha!" again bawled Rivoli, "thou art right, _piccolo porco_," and, -sinking to a squatting position upon his raised heels, he rose and fell -like a jack-in-the-box for some time, before rubbing and smiting his -huge thighs and calves to the accompaniment of explosive shouts. -Thereafter, he fell upon his hands and toes, and raised and lowered his -stiffened body a few dozen times. - -The display finished, he enquired with lordly boredom: "And what are the -absurd orders for walking-out dress to-night. Is it blue and red, or -blue and white, or overcoats buttoned on the left--or what?" - -"Tunic and red, Hercule, and all ready, as you see," replied Malvin, and -he proceeded to assist at the toilet of the ex-acrobat, the plutocrat -and leader of the rank-and-file of the Seventh Company by virtue of his -income of a franc a day, and his phenomenal strength and ferocity. - -Turning round that Malvin might buckle his belt and straighten his -tunic, the great man's foot touched that of Herbert Higgins (late of -Hoxton and the Loyal Whitechapel Regiment) who had been earnestly -endeavouring for the past quarter of an hour to follow the instructions -of the Bucking Bronco--instructions given in an almost incomprehensible -tongue, of choice American and choicer French compact. - -Profound disgust, deepening almost to horror, was depicted on the face -of the Italian as he bestowed a vicious, hacking kick upon the shin of -the offending "blue." - -"Body of Bacchus, what is this?" he cried. "Cannot I move without -treading in _vidanges_? Get beneath the bed and out of my sight, -_cauchemar_!" - -But far from retreating as bidden, the undersized Cockney rose promptly -to his feet with a surprised and aggrieved look upon his face, hitherto -expressive only of puzzled bewilderment. - -"'Ere! 'Oo yer fink you're a kickin' of?" he enquired, adding with -dignity, "I dunno' 'oo yer fink you _are_. I'm 'Erb 'Iggins, I am, an' -don't yer fergit it." - -That Mr. Herbert Higgins stood rubbing his injured shin instead of -flying at the throat of the Italian, was due in no wise to personal -fear, but to an utter ignorance of the rank, importance, and powers of -this "narsty-lookin' furriner." He might be some sort of an officer, -and to "dot 'im one" might mean lingering gaol, or sudden death. -Bitterly he regretted his complete ignorance of the French tongue, and -the manners and customs of this strange place. Anyhow, he could give -the bloke some lip in good old English. - -"Bit too 'andy wiv yer feet, ain't yer? Pretty manners, I _don't_ fink! -'Manners none, an' customs narsty's' abart your mark, ain't it?" - -But ere he could proceed with further flowers of rhetoric, and rush in -ignorance upon his fate, the huge hand of the American fell upon his -shoulder from behind and pressed him back upon his cot. - -"Hello, Loojey dear! Throwin' bouquets to yerself agin, air yew? -Gittin' fresh agin, air yew, yew greasy Eye-talian, orgin-grindin', -ice-cream-barrer-pushin', back-stabbin', garlic-eatin', street-corner, -pink-spangled-tights ackerobat," he observed in his own inimitable -vernacular, as he unwound his long blue sash preparatory to dressing for -the evening. - -"Why don't yew per*chase* a barrel-orgin an' take yure dear pal Malvin -along on it? Snakes! I guess I got my stummick full o' yew an' -Mon-seer Malvin some. I wish yew'd kiss yureself good-bye, Loojey. Yew -fair git my goat, yew fresh gorilla! _Oui, vous gagnez mon chevre -proprement_." - -"_Qu'est-ce qu'il dit?_" asked Rivoli, his contemptuously curled lips -baring his small, even teeth. - -"Keskerdee? Why, yep! We uster hev a bunch o' dirty little' -keskerdees' at the ol' Glowin' Star mine, way back in Californey when I -was a road-kid. Keskerdees!--so named becos they allus jabbered -'Keskerdee' when spoke to. We uster use their heads fer cleanin' -fryin'-pans. 'Keskerdee' is Eye-talian--a kind o' sorter low French," -observed the Bucking Bronco. - -It is to be feared that his researches into the ethnological and -etymological truths of the European nations were limited and -unprofitable, in spite of the fact that (like all other Legionaries of -any standing) he spoke fluent Legion French on everyday military -matters, and studied Italian phrases for the benefit of Carmelita. The -Bucking Bronco's conversational method was to express himself -idiomatically in the American tongue, and then translate it literally -into the language of the benighted foreigner whom he honoured at the -moment. - -The Italian eyed the American malevolently, and, for the thousandth -time, measured him, considered him, weighed him as an opponent in a -boxing-wrestling-kicking match, remembered his uncanny magic skill with -rifle and revolver, and, for the thousandth time, postponed the -inevitable settlement, misliking his face, his mouth, his eye, and his -general manner, air, and bearing. - -"Give some abominable 'bleu' the honour of lacing the boots of Luigi -Rivoli," he roared, turning with a contemptuous gesture from the -American and the Cockney, to his henchman, Malvin. Fixing his eye upon -the swarthy, spike-moustached Austrian, who sat at the foot of the bed -opposite his own, he added: - -"Here, dog, the privilege is thine. Allez schieblos"[#] and thrust out -the unlaced boots that Malvin had pulled on to his feet. - - -[#] A curious piece of Legion "French" meaning "Be quick." - - -The Austrian, squatting dejected, with his head between his fists, -affected not to understand, and made no move. - -"_Koom. Adji inna. Balek! fahesh beghla,_"[#] adjured the Italian, -airing his Arabic, and insulting his intended victim by addressing him -as though he were a native. - - -[#] "Get up. Come here. Take care! You ugly mule." - - -The Austrian did not stir. - -"Quick," hissed the Italian, and pointed to his boots that there might -be no mistake. - -The Austrian snarled. - -"Bring it to me," said the great man, and, in a second, the recruit was -run by the collar of his tunic, his ears, his twisted wrists, his woolly -hair, and by a dozen willing hands, to the welcoming arms of the bully. - -"Oh, thou deserter from the _Straf Bataillon_,"[#] growled the latter. -A sudden grab, a swift twist, and the Austrian was on his face, his -elbows meeting and overlapping behind his back, and his arms drawn -upward and backward. He shrieked. - - -[#] Penal battalion. - - -A quick jerk and he was on his feet, and then swung from the ground face -downward, his wrists behind him in one of Rivoli's big hands, his -trouser-ends in the other. Placing his foot in the small of the -Austrian's back, the Italian appeared to be about to break the spine of -his victim, whose screams were horrible to hear. Dashing him violently -to the ground, Rivoli re-seated himself, and thrust forward his right -foot. Groaning and gasping, the cowed Austrian knelt to his task, but, -fumbling and failing to give satisfaction, received a kick in the face. - -Reginald Rupert dropped the cartridge-pouch which he was polishing, and -stepped forward, only to find himself thrust back by a sweep of the -American's huge arm, which struck him in the chest like an iron bar, and -to be seized by Legionnaire John Bull who quietly remarked: - -"Mind your own business, recruit.... _C'est la Legion_!" - -No one noticed that the Russian, Mikhail, was white and trembling, and -that his brother came and led him to the other end of the room. - -"Bungler! _Polisson_! _Coquin_! Lick the soles of my boots and go," -cried Rivoli, and, as the lad hesitated, he rose to his feet. - -Cringing and shrinking, the wretched "blue" hastened to obey, thrust -forth his tongue, and, as the boot was raised, obediently licked the -nether surface and the edges of the sole until its owner was satisfied. - -"Austria's proper attitude to Italy," growled the bully. "Now lick the -other...." - -Le Legionnaire Luigi Rivoli might expect prompt obedience henceforth -from le Legionnaire Franz Joseph Meyer. - -Standing in the ring of amused satellites was the evil-looking _Apache_, -a deeply interested spectator of this congenial and enjoyable scene. -His hang-dog face caught the eye of the Italian. - -"Come hither, thou _blanc-bec_," quoth he. "Come hither and show this -_vaurien_ how to lace the boots of a gentleman." - -The Apache obeyed with alacrity, and, performing the task with rapidity -and skill, turned to depart. - -"A nimble-fingered sharper," observed the Italian, and, rising swiftly, -bestowed a shattering kick upon the retreating Frenchman. Recovering -his balance after the sudden forward propulsion, the _Apache_ wheeled -round like lightning, bent double, and flew at his assailant. Courage -was his one virtue, and he was the finest exponent of the art of butting -in all the purlieus and environs of Montmartre, and had not only laid -out many a good bourgeois, but had overcome many a rival, by this -preliminary to five minutes' strenuous kicking with heavy boots. If he -launched himself--a one-hundred-and-fifty pound projectile--with his -hard skull as battering-ram, straight at the stomach of his tormentor, -that astounded individual ought to go violently to the ground, doubled -up, winded and helpless. A score of tremendous kicks would then teach -him that an _Apache_ King (and he, none other than Tou-Tou Boil-the-Cat, -_doyen_ of the heroes of the Rue de Venise, Rue Pirouette, and Rue des -Innocents, _caveau_-knight and the beloved of the beauteous Casque d'Or) -was not a person lightly to be trifled with. - -But if Monsieur Tou-Tou Boil-the-Cat was a _Roi des Apaches_, Luigi -Rivoli was an acrobat and juggler, and, to mighty strength, added -marvellous poise, quickness and skill. - -"_Ca ne marche pas, gobemouche,_" he remarked, and, at the right moment, -his knee shot up with tremendous force and crashed into the face of the -butting _Apache_. For the first time the famous and terrible attack of -the King of the Paris hooligans had failed. When the unfortunate -monarch regained his senses, some minutes later, and took stock of his -remaining teeth and features, he registered a mental memorandum to the -effect that he would move along the lines of caution, rather than -valour, in his future dealings with the Legionnaire Luigi Rivoli--until -his time came. - -"_Je m'en souviendrai_," said he.... - -An interesting object-lesson in the effect, upon a certain type of mind, -of the methods of the Italian was afforded by the conduct of a Greek -recruit, named Dimitropoulos. Stepping forward with ingratiating bows -and smiles, as the unfortunate M. Tou-Tou was stretched senseless on the -floor, he proclaimed himself to be the best of the _lustroi_ of the city -of Corinth, and begged for the honour and pleasure of cleaning the boots -of Il Signor Luigi Rivoli. - -Oh, but yes; a _lustros_ of the most distinguished, look you, who had -polished the most eminent boots in Greece at ten _leptas_ a time. Alas! -that he had not all his little implements and sponges, his cloth of -velvet, his varnish for the heel. Had he but the tools necessary to the -true artist in his profession, the boots of Il Illustrissimo Signor -should be then and thenceforth of a brightness dazzling and remarkable. - -As he gabbled, the Greek scrubbed at Rivoli's boots with a rag and the -palm of his hand. Evidently the retinue of the great man had been -augmented by one who would be faithful and true while his patron's -strength and money lasted. As, at the head of his band of henchmen and -parasites, the latter hero turned to leave the barrack-room with a shout -of "_Allons, mes enfants d'Enfer,_" he bent his lofty brow upon, cocked -his ferocious eye at, and turned his haughty regard toward the remaining -recruits, finishing with Reginald Rupert: - -"I will teach useful tricks to you little dogs later," he promised. -"You shall dance me the _rigolboche_, and the _can-can_," and swaggered -out.... - -"Nice lad," observed Rupert, looking up from his work--and wondered what -the morrow might bring forth. There should be a disappointed Luigi, or -a dead Rupert about, if it came to interference and trouble. - -"Sure," agreed Legionnaire Bronco, seating himself on the bed beside his -beloved John Bull. "He's some stiff, that guy, an' I allow it'll soon -be up ter me ter _con_duct our Loojey ter the bone-orchard. He's a -plug-ugly. He's a ward-heeler. Land sakes! I wants ter punch our -Loojey till Hell pops; an' when it comes ter shootin' I got Loojey -skinned a mile--sure thing. _J'ai Loojey ecorche un mille_.... Nope, -there ain't 'nuff real room fer Looje an' me in Algery--not while -Carmelita's around.... - -"Say, John," he continued, turning to his friend, "she up an' axed me -las' night ef he ever went ter the Canteen an' ef Madam lar Canteenair -didn't ever git amakin' eyes at her beautiful Looje! Yep! It _is_ time -Loojey kissed hisself good-bye." - -"Oh? What did you tell her?" enquired John Bull. "There is no doubt -the swine will marry the Canteen if he can. More profitable than poor -little Carmelita's show. He _is_ a low stinker, and she's one of the -best and prettiest and pluckiest little women who ever lived.... She's -so _debrouillarde_." - -"Wot did I say? Wal, John, wot I ses was--'Amakin' eyes at yure Loojey, -my dear.' I ses, 'Madam lar Canteenair is a woman with horse-sense an' -two eyes in 'er 'ead. She wouldn't look twice at a boastin', swankin', -fat-slappin', back-stabbin', dime-show ackerobat,' I ses. 'Yure Loojey -flaps 'is mouth too much. _Il frappe sa bouche trop,_' I ses. But I -didn't tell her as haow 'e's amakin' up ter Madam lar Canteenaire all -his possible. She wouldn't believe it of 'im. She wouldn't even -believe that 'e _goes_ ter the Canteen. I only ses: 'Yure Loojey's a -leary lipper so don't say as haow I ain't warned yer, Carmelita honey,' -I ses--an' I puts it inter copper-bottomed Frencho langwago also. Yep!" - -"What did Carmelita say?" asked John Bull. - -"Nix," was the reply. "It passes my com*pre*hension wot she sees in -that fat Eye-talian ice-cream trader. Anyhaow, it's up ter Hiram C. -Milton ter git upon his hind legs an' _fer_bid the bangs ef she goes fer -ter marry a greasy orgin-grinder ... serposin' he don't git Madam lar -Canteenair," and the Bucking Bronco sighed deeply, produced some strong, -black Algerian tobacco, and asked High Heaven if he might hope ever -again to stuff some real Tareyton Mixture (the best baccy in the world) -into his "guley-brooley"--whereby Legionary John Bull understood him to -mean his _brule-gueule_, or short pipe--and relapsed into lethargic and -taciturn apathy. - -"How would you like a prowl round?" asked John Bull, of Rupert. - -"Nothing better, thank you, if you think I could pass the Sergeant of -the Guard before being dismissed recruit-drills." - -"Oh, that'll be all right if you are correctly dressed. Hop into the -tunic and red breeches and we'll try it. You're free until five-thirty -to-morrow morning, and can do some more at your kit when we return. -We'll go round the barracks and I'll show you the ropes before we stroll -round Sidi-bel-Abbes, and admire the wonders of the Rue Prudon, Rue -Montagnac, and Rue de Jerusalem. Our band is playing at the Military -Club to-night, and the band of the Premiere Legion Etrangere is the -finest band in the whole world--largely Germans and Poles. We are -allowed to listen at a respectful distance. We'll look in at the -_Village d'Espagnol_, the _Mekerra_, and the _Faubourg des Palmiers_ -another time, as they're out of bounds. Also the _Village Negre_ if you -like, but if we're caught there we get a month's hard labour, if not -solitary confinement and starvation in the foul and stinking -_cellules_--because we're likely to be killed in the _Village Negre_." - -"Let's go there now," suggested Rupert eagerly, as he buttoned his -tunic. - -"No, my boy. Wait until you know what _cellule_ imprisonment really is, -before you risk it. You keep out of the _trou_ just as long as you can. -It's different from the Stone Jug of a British regiment--very. Don't do -any _rabiau_[#] until you must. We'll be virtuous to-night, and when -you must go out of bounds, go with me. I'll take you to see Carmelita -this evening at the Cafe de la Legion, and we'll look in on Madame la -Cantiniere, at the Canteen, before the Last Post at nine o'clock.... -Are you coming, Buck?" - - -[#] Time spent in prison or in the Penal Battalions--which does not -count towards the five years period of service. - - -And these three modern musketeers left the _chambree_ of their _caserne_ -and clattered down the stone stairs to the barrack-square. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - CARMELITA ET CIE - - -"Those boots comfortable?" asked John Bull as they crossed the great -parade-ground. - -"Wonderfully," replied Rupert. "I could do a march in them straight -away. Fine boots too." - -"Yes," agreed the other. "That's one thing you can say for the Legion -kit, the boots are splendid--probably the best military boots in the -world. You'll see why, before long." - -"Long marches?" - -"Longest done by any unit of human beings. Our ordinary marches would -be records for any other infantry, and our forced marches are -incredible--absolute world's records. They call us the '_Cavalerie a -pied_' in the Service, you know. One of the many ways of killing us is -marching us to death, to keep up the impossible standard. Buck, here, -is our champion." - -"Waal, yew see--I strolled crost Amurrica ten times," apologised the -Bronco, "ahittin' the main drag, so I oughter vamoose some. Yep! I can -throw me feet _con_siderable." - -"I've never been a foot-slogger myself," admitted Rupert, "but I've -Mastered a beagle pack, and won a few running pots at school and during -my brief 'Varsity career. What are your distances?" - -"Our minimum, when marching quietly out of barracks and back, without a -halt is forty kilometres under our present Colonel, who is known in the -Legion as The Marching Pig, and we do it three or four times a week. On -forced marches we do anything that is to be done, inasmuch as it is the -unalterable law of the Legion that all forced marches must be done in -one march. If the next post were forty miles away or even fifty, and -the matter urgent, we should go straight on without a halt, except the -usual 'cigarette space,' or five minutes in every hour, until we got -there. I assure you I have very often marched as much as six hundred -kilometres in fifteen days, and occasionally much more. And we carry -the heaviest kit in the world--over a hundred-weight, in full marching -order." - -"What is a kilometre?" asked the interested Rupert. - -"Call it five furlongs." - -"Then an ordinary day's march is about thirty miles without a halt, and -you may have to do four hundred miles straight off, at the rate of -twenty-five consecutive miles a day? Good Lord above us!" - -"Yes, my own personal record is five hundred and sixty miles in nineteen -days, without a rest day--under the African sun and across sand...." - -"I say--what's _this_ game?" interrupted Rupert, as the three turned a -corner and entered a small square between the rear of the _caserne_ of -the Fourth Company and the great barrack-wall--a square of which all -exits were guarded by sentries with fixed bayonets. Round and round in -a ring at a very rapid quick-step ran a dismal procession of suffering -men, to the monotonously reiterated order of a Corporal-- - -"A droit, _droit_. A droit, _droit_. A droit, _droit_." - -Their blanched, starved-looking faces, glazed eyes, protruding tongues -and doubled-up bodies made them a doleful spectacle. On each man's back -was a burden of a hundred pounds of stones. On each man's emaciated -face, a look of agony, and on the canvas-clad back of one man, a great -stain of wet blood from a raw wound caused by the cutting and rubbing of -the stone-laden knapsack. Each man wore a fatigue-uniform, filthy -beyond description. - -"Why the hell can't they be set ter sutthin' useful--hoein' pertaties, -or splittin' rails, or chewin' gum--'stead o' that silly strain-me-heart -and break-me-sperrit game on empty stummicks twice a day?" observed the -Bucking Bronco. - -Every panting, straining, gasping wretch in that pitiable _peloton des -hommes punis_ looked as though his next minute must be his last, his -next staggering step bring him crashing to the ground. What could the -dreadful alternative be, the fear of which kept these suffering, -starving wretches on their tottering, failing legs? Why would they -_not_ collapse, in spite of Nature? Fear of the Legion's prison? No, -they were all serving periods in the Legion's prison already, and twice -spending three hours of each prison-day in this agony. Fear of the -Legion's Hospital? Yes, and of the Penal Battalion afterwards. - -"What sort of crimes have they committed?" asked Rupert, as they turned -with feelings of personal shame from the sickening sight. - -"Oh, all sorts, but I'm afraid a good many of them have earned the -enmity of some Non-com. As a rule, a man who wants to, can keep out of -that sort of thing, but there's a lot of luck in it. One gets run in -for a lost strap, a dull button, a speck of rust on rifle or bayonet, or -perhaps for being slow at drill, slack in saluting, being out of bounds, -or something of that sort. A Sergeant gives him three days' confinement -to barracks, and enters it in the _livre de punitions_. Very likely, the -Captain, feeling liverish when he examines the book, makes it eight -days' imprisonment. That's not so bad, provided the Commander of the -Battalion does not think it might be good for discipline for him to -double it. And that again is bearable so long as the Colonel does not -think the scoundrel had better have a month--and imprisonment, though -only called 'Ordinary Arrest,' carries with it this beastly _peloton de -chasse_. Still, as I say, a good man and keen soldier can generally -keep fairly clear of _salle de police_ and _cellule_." - -"So Non-coms. can punish off their own bat, in the Legion, can they?" -enquired Rupert as they strolled toward the main gate. - -"Yes. The N.C.O. is an almighty important bird here, and you have to -salute him like an officer. They can give extra corvee, confinement to -barracks, and up to eight days' _salle de police_, and give you a pretty -bad time while you're doing it, too. In peace time, you know, the -N.C.O.s run the Legion absolutely. We hardly see our officers except on -marches, or at manoeuvres. Splendid soldiers, but they consider their -duty is to lead us in battle, not to be bothered with us in peace. The -N.C.O.s can do the bothering for them. Of course, we're pretty -frequently either demonstrating, or actually fighting on the Southern, -or the Moroccan border, and then an officer's job is no sinecure. They -are real soldiers--but the weak spot is that they avoid us like poison, -in barracks." - -"We're mostly foreigners, of course," he continued, "half German, and -not very many French, and there's absolutely none of that mutual liking -and understanding which is the strength of the British Army.... And -naturally, in a corps like this, they've got to be severe and harsh to -the point of cruelty. After all, it's not a girls' school, is it? But -take my advice, my boy, and leave the Legion's punishment system of -starvation, over-work, and solitary confinement outside your -'experiences' as much as possible...." - -"I say--what a ghastly, charnel-house stink," remarked the recipient of -this good advice, as the trio passed two iron-roofed buildings, one on -each side of the closed main-entrance of the barracks. "I noticed it -when I first came in here, but I was to windward of it I suppose. It's -the bally limit. Poo-o-oh!" - -"Yes, you live in that charming odour all night, if you get _salle de -police_ for any offence, and all day as well, if you get 'arrest' in the -regimental lock-up--except for your two three-hour turns of _peloton des -hommes punis_. It's nothing at this distance, but wait until you're on -sentry-go in one of those barrack-prisons. There's a legend of a runaway -pig that took refuge in one, gave a gasp, and fell dead.... Make Dante -himself envious if he could go inside. The truth of that Inferno is -much stranger than the fiction of his." - -"Yep," chimed in the American. "But what gits my goat every time is -_cellules_. Yew squats on end in a dark cell fer the whole of yure -sentence, an' yew don't go outside it from start to finish, an' thet may -be thirty days. Yew gits a quarter-ration o' dry bread an' a double -ration of almighty odour. 'Nuff ter raise the roof, but it don't do it. -No exercise, no readin', no baccy, no nuthin'. There yew sits and there -yew starves, an' lucky ef yew don't go balmy...." - -"I hope we get you past the Sergeant of the Guard," interrupted John -Bull. "Swank it thick as we go by." - -The cold eye of the Sergeant ran over the three Legionaries as they -passed through the little side wicket without blazing into wrath over -any lack of smartness and _chic_ in their appearance. - -"One to you," said John Bull, as they found themselves safe in the -shadow of the Spahis' barracks outside. "If you had looked too like a -recruit he'd have turned you back, on principle...." - -To Reginald Rupert the walk was full of interest, in spite of the fact -that the half-vulgar, half-picturesque Western-Eastern appearance of the -town was no novelty. He had already seen all that Sidi-bel-Abbes could -show, and much more, in Algiers, Tangiers, Cairo, Alexandria, Port Said, -and Suez. But, with a curious sense of proprietorship, he enjoyed -listening to the distant strains of the band--their "own" band. To see -thousands of Legionaries, Spahis, Turcos, Chasseurs d'Afrique, Sapeurs, -Tirailleurs, Zouaves, and other French soldiery, from their own level, -as one of themselves, was what interested him. Here was a new -situation, here were new conditions, necessities, dangers, sufferings, -relationships. Here, in short, were entirely new experiences.... - -"This is the Rue Prudon," observed John Bull. "It separates the Military -goats on the west, from the Civil sheep on the east. Not that you'll -find them at all 'civil' though.... Reminds me of a joke I heard our -Captain telling the Colonel at dinner one night when I was a Mess -Orderly. A new man had taken over the Grand Hotel, and he wrote to the -Mess President to say he made a speciality of dinner-parties for -Military and _Civilised_ officers! Bit rough on the Military, what?" - -Having crossed the Rue Prudon rubicon, and invaded the Place de -Quinconces with its Palais de Justice and prison, the Promenade Publique -with its beautiful trees, and the Rue Montagnac with its shops and life -and glitter, the three Legionaries quitted the quarter of electric -arc-lights, brilliant cafes, shops, hotels, aperitif-drinking citizens, -promenading French-women, newspaper kiosks, loitering soldiers, shrill -hawkers of the _Echo d'Oran_, white-burnoused Arabs (who gazed coldly -upon the hated Franswazi, and bowed to officials with stately dignity, -arms folded on breast), quick-stepping Chasseurs, scarlet-cloaked -Spahis, and swaggering Turcos, crossed the Place Sadi Carnot, and made -for the maze of alleys, slums, and courts (the quarter of the Spanish -Jews, town Arabs, _hadris_, _odjar_-wearing women, Berbers, Negroes, -half-castes, semi-Oriental scum, "white trash," and Legionaries), in one -of which was situated Carmelita's Cafe de la Legion. - - - Sec.2 - -La Belle Carmelita, black-haired, red-cheeked, black-eyed, red-lipped, -lithe, swift, and graceful, sat at the receipt of custom. Carmelita's -Cafe de la Legion was for the Legion, and had to make its profits out of -men whose pay is one halfpenny a day. It is therefore matter for little -surprise that it compared unfavourably with Voisin's, the Cafe de la -Paix, the Pre Catalan, Maxim's, the Cafe Grossenwahn, the Das Prinzess -Cafe, the restaurants of the Place Pigalle, Le Rat Mort, or even Les -Noctambules, Le Cabaret de l'Enfer, the Chat Noir, the Elysee -Montmartre, and the famous and infamous _caveaux_ of Le Quartier--in the -eyes of those Legionaries who had tried some, or all, of these places. - -However, it had four walls, a floor, and a roof; benches and a large -number of tables and chairs, many of which were quite reliable. It had -a bar, it had Algerian wine at one penny the bottle, it had _vert-vert_ -and _tord-boyaud_ and _bapedi_ and _shum-shum_. It had really good -coffee, and really bad cigarettes. It had meals also--but above all, and -before all, it had a welcome. A welcome for the Legionary. The man to -whose presence the good people of Sidi-bel-Abbes (French petty -officials, half-castes, Spanish Jews, Arabs, clerks, workmen, -shopkeepers, waiters, and lowest-class bourgeoisie) took exception at -the bandstand, in the Gardens, in the Cafes, in the very streets; the -man from the contamination of whose touch the very cocottes, the -demi-mondaines, the joyless _filles de joie_, even the daughters of the -pavement; drew aside the skirts of their dingy finery (for though the -Wages of Virtue are a halfpenny a day for the famous Legion, the Wages -of Sin are more for the infamous legion); the man at whom even the -Goums, the Arab _gens-d'armes_ shouted as at a pariah dog, this man, the -Soldier of the Legion, had a welcome in Carmelita's Cafe. There were -two women in all the world who would endure to breathe the same air as -the sad Sons of the Legion--Madame la Cantiniere (official _fille du -regiment_) and Carmelita. Is it matter for wonder that the Legion's -sons loved them--particularly Carmelita, who, unlike Madame, was under -no obligation to shed the light of her countenance upon them? Any man -in the Legion might speak to Carmelita provided he spoke as a gentleman -should speak to a lady--and did not want to be pinned to her bar by the -ears, and the bayonets of his indignant brothers-in-arms--any man who -might speak to no other woman in the world outside the Legion. (Madame -la Cantiniere is inside the Legion, _bien entendu_, and always married -to it in the person of one of its sons.) She would meet him as an equal -for the sake of her beautiful, wonderful, adored Luigi Rivoli, his -brother-in-arms. Perhaps one must be such an outcast that the sight of -one causes even painted lips to curl in contemptuous disdain; such a -_thing_ that one is deterred from entering decent Cafes, decent places -of amusement and decent boulevards; so low that one is strictly doomed -to the environment of one's prison, or the slums, and to the society of -one's fellow dregs, before one can appreciate the attitude of the Sons -of the Legion to Carmelita. They revered her as they did not revere the -Mother of God, and they, broken and crucified wretches, envied Luigi -Rivoli as they did not envy the repentant thief absolved by Her Son. - -_She_, Carmelita, welcomed _them_, Legionaries! It is perhaps -comprehensible if not excusable, that the attitude of Madame la -Cantiniere was wholly different, that she hated Carmelita as a rival, -and with single heart, double venom and treble voice, denounced her, her -house, her wine, her coffee, and all those _chenapans_ and _sacripants_ -her clients. - -"_Merde!_" said Madame la Cantiniere. "That which makes the slums of -Naples too hot for it, is warm indeed! Naples! Ma foi! Why Monsieur -Le Bon Diable himself must be reluctant when his patrol runs in a -_prisonnier_ from Naples to the nice clean guard-room and _cellules_ in -his Hell ... Naples! ... La! La!..." which was unkind and unfair of -Madame, since the very worst she knew of Carmelita was the fact that she -kept a Cafe whereat the Legionaries spent their half-pence. It is not -(rightly or wrongly) in itself an indictable offence to be a Neapolitan. - -So the Legion loved Carmelita, Madame la Cantiniere hated her, the -Bucking Bronco worshipped her, John Bull admired her, le bon M. Edouard -Malvin desired her, and Luigi Rivoli owned her--body, soul and -cash-box--what time he sought to do the same for Madame la Cantiniere -whose body and cash-box were as much larger than those of Carmelita as -her soul was smaller. - -Between two fools one comes to the ground--sometimes--but Luigi intended -to come to a bed of roses, and to have a cash-box beneath it. One of -the fools should marry and support him, preferably the richer fool, and -meantime, oh the subtlety, the cleverness, the piquancy--of being loved -and supported by both while marrying neither! Many a time as he lay on -his cot while a henchman polished the great cartridge-pouches (that -earned the Legion the sobriquet of "the Leather-Bellies" from the -Russians in the Crimea), the belts, the buttons, the boots, and the -rifle and bayonet of the noble Luigi, while another washed his fatigue -uniforms and underclothing, that honourable man would chuckle aloud as -he saw himself frequently cashing a ten-franc piece of Carmelita's at -Madame's Canteen, and receiving change for a twenty-franc piece from the -fond, yielding Madame. Ten francs too much, a sigh too many, and a kiss -too few--for Madame did not kiss, being, contrary to popular belief with -regard to vivandieres in general, and the Legion's vivandiere in -particular, of rigid virtue, oh, but yes, of a respectability profound -and colossal--during "vacation." Her present vacation had lasted for -three months, and Madame felt it was time to replace le pauvre Etienne -Baptiste--cut in small pieces by certain Arab ladies. Madame was a -business woman, Madame needed a husband in her business, and Madame had -an eye for a fine man. None finer than Luigi Rivoli, and Madame had -never tried an Italian. Husbands do not last long in the Legion, and -Madame had had three French, one Belgian, and one Swiss (seriatim, _bien -entendu_). No, none finer in the whole Legion than Rivoli. None, nom -de Dieu! But a foreign husband may be a terrible trial, look you, and an -Italian is a foreigner in a sense that a French-speaking Belgian or -Swiss is not. No, an Italian is not a Frenchman even though he be a -Legionnaire. And there were tales of him and this vile shameless -creature from Naples, who decoyed les braves Legionnaires from their -true and lawful Canteen to her noisome den in the foul slums, there to -spend their hard-earned sous on her poisonous red-ink wine, her -muddy-water coffee, and her--worse things. Yes, that cunning little fox -le Legionnaire Edouard Malvin had thrown out hints to Madame about this -Neapolitan _ragazza_--but then, ce bon M. Malvin was himself a suitor -for Madame's hand--as well as a most remarkable liar and rogue. Perhaps -'twould be as well to accept ce beau Luigi at once, marry him -immediately, and see that he spent his evenings helping in the Canteen -bar, instead of gallivanting after Neapolitan hussies of the bazaar. -Men are but men--and sirens are sirens. What would you? And Luigi so -gay and popular. Small blame that he should stray when Madame was -unkind or coy.... Yes, she would do it, if only to spite this -Neapolitan cat.... But--he was a foreigner and something of a -rogue--and incredibly strong. Still, Madame had tamed more than one -recalcitrant husband by knocking the bottom off an empty bottle and -stabbing him in the face with it. And however strong one's husband -might be, he must, like Sisera, sleep sometimes. - -The beautiful Luigi would hate to be awakened with a bottomless bottle, -and would not need it more than once.... And the business soul of -scheming, but amorous Madame, much troubled, still halted between two -opinions--while the romantic and simple soul of loving little Carmelita -remained steadfast, and troubled but little. Just a little, because the -fine _gentilhomme_, Legionnaire Jean Boule, and the great, kind -Legionnaire Bouckaing Bronceau, and certain others, seemed somehow _to -warn her_ against her Luigi; seemed to despise him, and hint at -treachery. She did not count the sly Belgian (or Austrian) Edouard -Malvin. The big stupid Americano was jealous, of course, but Il Signor -Inglese was not and he was--oh, like a Reverend Father--so gentle and -honest and good. But no, her Luigi could not be false, and the next -Legionnaire who said a word against him should be forbidden Le Cafe de -la Legion, ill as it could afford to lose even halfpenny custom--what -with the rent, taxes, _bakshish_ to gens-d'armes, service, cooking, -lighting, wine, spirits, coffee, and Luigi's daily dinner, Chianti and -franc pocket-money.... If only that franc could be increased--but one -must eat, or get so thin--and the great Luigi liked not skinny women. -What was a franc a day to such a man as Luigi, her Luigi, strongest, -finest, handsomest of men?--and but for her he would never have been in -this accursed Legion. Save for her aggravating wickedness, he would -never have stabbed poor Guiseppe Longigotto and punished her by -enlisting. How great and fine a hero of splendid vengeance! A true -Neapolitan, yet how magnanimous when punishment was meted! He had -forgiven--and forgotten--the dead Guiseppe, and he had forgiven her, and -he accepted her miserable franc, dinner and Chianti wine daily. Also he -had allowed her--miserable ingrate that she had been to annoy him and -make him jealous--to find the money that had mysteriously but materially -assisted in procuring the perpetual late-pass that allowed him to remain -with her till two in the morning, long after all the other poor -Legionnaires had returned to their dreadful barracks. Noble Luigi! Yet -there were people who coupled his name with that of wealthy Madame la -Cantiniere in the barrack yonder. - -She had overheard Legionnaires doing it, here in her own Cafe, though -they had instantly and stoutly denied it when accused, and had looked -furtive and ashamed. Absurd, jealous wretches, whose heads Luigi could -knock together as easily as she could click her castanets.... - -Almost time that the Legionnaires began to drop in for their litre and -their _tasse_--and Carmelita rose and went to the door of the Cafe de la -Legion and looked down the street toward the Place Sadi Carnot. One of -three passing Chasseurs d'Afrique made a remark, the import of which was -not lost on the Italian girl though the man spoke in Paris slum argot. - -"If Monsieur would but give himself the trouble to step inside and sit -down for a moment," said Carmelita in Legion-French, "Monsieur's -question shall be answered by Luigi Rivoli of La Legion. Also he will -remove Monsieur's pretty uniform and scarlet _ceinturon_ and will do for -Monsieur what Monsieur's mamma evidently neglected to do for Monsieur -when Monsieur was a dirty little boy in the gutter.... Monsieur will -not come in as he suggested? Monsieur will not wait a minute? No? -Monsieur is a very wise young gentleman...." - -An Arab Spahi swaggered past and leered. - -"_Sabeshad zareefeh chattaha_," said he, "_saada atinee_." - -"_Roh! Imshi!_" hissed Carmelita and Carmelita's hand went to her -pocket in a significant manner, and Carmelita spat. - -A Greek ice-cream seller lingered and ogled. - -"_Bros!_" snapped Carmelita with a jerk of her thumb in the direction in -which the young person should be going. - -A huge Turco, with a vast beard, brought his rolling swagger to a halt -at her door and made to enter. - -"_Destour!_" said the tiny Carmelita to the giant, pointed to the street -and stared him unwaveringly in the eye until, grinning sheepishly, he -turned and went. - -Carmelita did not like Turcos in general, and detested this one in -particular. He was too fond of coming when he knew the Cafe to be empty -of Legionnaires. - -An old Spanish Jew paused in his shuffle to ask for a cigarette. - -"_Varda!_" replied Carmelita calmly, with the curious thumb-jerking -gesture of negation, distinctive of the uneducated Italian. - -A most cosmopolitan young woman, and able to give a little of his own -tongue to any dweller in Europe and to most of those in Northern Africa. -Not in the least a refined young woman, however, and her many -accomplishments not of the drawing-room. Staunch, courageous, -infinitely loving, utterly honest, loyal, reliable, and very -self-reliant, she was, upon occasion, it is to be feared, more emphatic -than delicate in speech, and more uncompromising than ladylike in -conduct. She was not _une maitresse vierge_, and her standards and -ideals were not those of the Best Suburbs. You see, Carmelita had begun -to earn her own living at the unusually early age of three, and earned -it in coppers on a dirty rug, on a dirtier Naples quay, for a decade or -so, until at the age of fourteen, or fifteen, she, together with her -Mamma, her reputed Papa, her sister and her brother, performed painful -acrobatic feats on the edge of the said quay for the delectation of the -passengers of the big North German Lloyd and other steamers that tied up -thereat for purposes of embarkation and debarkation, and for the -reception of coal and the discharge of cargo. - -At the age of fifteen, Carmelita, most beautiful of form and coarsely -beautiful of face, of perfect health, grace, poise, and carriage, fell -desperately in love with the great Signor Carlo Scopinaro, born Luigi -Rivoli, a star of her own firmament but of far greater magnitude. - -Luigi Rivoli, one of a troupe of acrobats who performed at the Naples -Scala, Vesuvie, and Varietes, meditating setting up on his own account -as Strong Man, Acrobat, Juggler, Wrestler, Dancer, and Professor of -Physical Culture, was, to the humble "tumbler" of the quay, as the -be-Knighted Actor-Manager of a West End Theatre to the last joined -chorus girl, or walking-lady on his boards. And yet the great Signor -Carlo Scopinaro, born Luigi Rivoli, meditating desertion from his troupe -and needing an "assistant," deigned to accept the services and -whole-souled adoration of the girl who was as much more skilful as she -was less powerful than he. - -When, in her perfect, ardent, and beautiful love, her reckless and -uncounting adoration, she gave herself, mind, body and soul, to her hero -and her god, he accepted the little gift "without prejudice"--as the -lawyers say. "Without prejudice" to Luigi's future, that is. - -During their short engagement at the Scala--terminated by the Troupe's -earnest endeavour to assassinate the defaulting and defalcating Luigi, -and her family's endeavour to maim Carmelita for setting up on her own -account, and deserting her loving "parents"--it was rather the girl whom -the public applauded for her wonderful back-somersaults, contortions, -hand-walking, Catherine-wheels, trapeze-work, and dancing, than the man -for his feats with dumb-bells of doubtful solidity, his stereotyped -ball-juggling, his chain-breaking, and weight-lifting, his -muscle-slapping and _Ha!_ shouting, his posturing and grimacing, and his -issuing of challenges to wrestle any man in the world for any sum he -liked to name, and in any style known to science. And, when engagements -at the lower-class halls and cafes of Barcelona, Marseilles, Toulon, -Genoa, Rome, Brindisi, Venice, Trieste, Corinth, Athens, Constantinople, -Port Said, Alexandria, Messina, Valetta, Algiers, Oran, Tangiers, or -Casa Blanca were obtained, it was always, and obviously, the girl, -rather than the man, who decided the proprietor or manager to engage -them, and who won the applause of his patrons. - -When times were bad, as after Luigi's occasional wrestling defeats and -during the bad weeks of Luigi's typhoid, convalescence, and long -weakness at Marseilles, it was Carmelita, the humbler and lesser light, -who (the Halls being worked out) tried desperately to keep the wolf from -the door by returning to the quay-side business, and, for dirty coppers, -exhibiting to passengers, coal-trimmers, cargo-workers, porters and -loafers, the performances that had been subject of signed contracts and -given on fine stages in beautiful music-halls and _cafes_, to refined -and appreciative audiences. Incidentally the girl learned much French -(little knowing how useful it was to prove), as well as smatterings of -Spanish, Greek, Turkish, English and Arabic. - -So Carmelita had "assisted" the great Luigi in the times of his -prosperity and had striven to maintain him in eclipse, by quay-side, -public-house, workmen's dinner-hour, low _cafe_, back-yard, -gambling-den, and wine-shop exhibitions of her youthful skill, grace, -agility, and beauty--and had failed to make enough by that means. To -the end of her life poor Carmelita could never, never forget that -terrible time at Marseilles, try as she might to thrust it into the -background of her thoughts. For there, ever there, in the background it -remained, save when called to cruel prominence by some mischance, or at -rare intervals by the noble Luigi himself, when displeased by some -failure on the part of Carmelita. A terrible, terrible memory, for -Carmelita's nature was essentially virginal, delicate, and of crystal -purity. Where she loved she gave all--and Luigi was to Carmelita as -much her husband as if they had been married in every church they had -passed, in every cathedral they had seen, and by every _padre_ they had -met.... - -A terrible, terrible memory.... But Luigi's life was at stake and what -true woman, asked Carmelita, would not have taken the last step of all -(when every other failed) to raise the money necessary for doctors, -medicine, delicacies, food, fuel, and lodging? If, by thrusting her -right hand into the fire, Carmelita could have burnt away those haunting -and corroding Marseilles memories, then into the fire her right hand -would have been thrust. Yet, side by side with the self-horror and -self-disgust was no remorse nor repentance. If, to-morrow, Luigi's life -could only thus again be saved, thus saved should it be, as when at -Marseilles he lay convalescent but dying for lack of the money wherewith -to buy the delicacies that would save him.... Luigi's life always, and -at any time, before Carmelita's scruples and shrinkings. - -In return, Luigi had been kind to her and had often spoken of -matrimony--some day--in spite of what she had done at Marseilles when he -was too ill to look after her, and provide her with all she needed. -Once even, when they were on the crest of a great wave of prosperity, -Luigi had gone so far as to mention her seventeenth birthday as a -possibly suitable date for their wedding. That had been a great and -glorious time, though all too short, alas! and the sequel to a brilliant -scheme devised by that poor dear Guiseppe Longigotto in the interests of -his beloved and adored friend Carmelita. Poor Guiseppe! He had -deserved as Carmelita was the first to admit, something better, than a -stab in the back from Luigi Rivoli, for the idea had been wholly and -solely his, until the great Roman sporting Impresario had taken it up -and developed it. First there was a tremendous syndicate-engineered -campaign of advertisement, which let all Europe know that _Il Famoso e -Piu Grande Professors Carlo Scopinaro_, Champion Wrestler of Europe, -America and Australia, would shortly meet the Egregious Egyptian, or -Conquering Copt, Champion Wrestler of Africa and Asia, in Rome, and -wrestle him in the Graeco-Roman style, for the World's Championship and -ten thousand pounds a side. (Yes actually and authoritatively -_diecimila lire sterline_.) From every hoarding in Rome, Venice, Milan, -Turin, Genoa, Florence, Naples, Brindisi, and every other town in Italy, -huge posters called your attention to the beauties and marvels of the -smiling face and mighty form of the great Carlo Scopinaro; to the -horrors and terrors of the scowling face and enormous carcase of the -dreadful Conquering Copt. (To positively none but Luigi, Guiseppe, and -the renowned Roman Impresario was it known that the Conquering Copt was -none other than Luigi's old pal, Abdul Hamid, chucker-out at a Port Said -music-hall, and most modest and retiring of gentlemen--until this -greatness of Champion Wrestler of Africa and Asia was suddenly thrust -upon him, and he was summoned from Port Said to Rome to be coached by -Luigi in the arts and graces of realistic stage-wrestling, and -particularly in those of life-like and convincing defeat after a long -and obviously terrible struggle.) ... Excitement was splendidly -engineered, the newspapers of every civilised country and of Germany -advertised the epoch-making event, speculated upon its result, and -produced interesting articles on such questions as, "_Should a -Colour-Line be drawn in Wrestling?_" and, "_Is Scopinaro the White -Hope?_" A self-advertising reverend Nonconformist announced his -intention in the English press of proceeding to Rome to create a -disturbance at the Match. He got himself frequently interviewed by -specimens of the genus, "Our representative," and the important fact -that he was a Conscientious Objector to all forms of sport was brought -to the notice of the Great British Public. - -The struggle was magnificently staged and magnificently acted. Every -spectator in the vast theatre, no matter whether he had paid one hundred -lire or a paltry fifty centesimi for his seat, felt that he had had his -money's worth. In incredibly realistic manner the White Hope of Europe -and the Champion of Africa and Asia struck attitudes, cried "_Ha!_", -snatched at each other, stamped, straddled, pushed, pulled, embraced, -slapped, jerked, hugged, tugged, lugged, and lifted each other with -every appearance of fearful exertion, dauntless courage, fierce -determination and unparalleled skill for one crowded hour of glorious -life, during which the house went mad, rose at them to a man, and, with -tears and imprecations, called upon the Italian to be worthy of his -country and upon the Conquering Copt to be damned. - -Few scenes in all the troubled history of Rome can have equalled, for -excitement, that which ensued when the White Hope finally triumphed, the -honour of Europe in general was saved, and that of Italy in particular -illuminated with a blaze of glory. - -Anyhow, what was solid fact, with no humbug about it, was that Luigi -received the renowned Roman Impresario's fervid blessing and five -hundred pounds, while the complacent Abdul received blessings equally -fervid, though a less enthusiastic cheque. Both gentlemen were then -provided by the kind Impresario with single tickets to the most distant -spot he could induce them to name. - -For Carmelita, the days following that on which her Luigi won the great -World's Championship match, were a glorious time of expensive dinners, -fine apartments, and beautiful clothes; a time of being _cafe_ and -music-hall patrons instead of performers; of being entertained instead -of entertaining. The joy of Carmelita's life while the five hundred -pounds lasted was to sit in a stage-box, proud and happy, beside her -noble Luigi, and criticise the various "turns" upon the stage. Never an -evening performance, nor a matinee did they miss, and Luigi drank a -quart of champagne at lunch, and another at dinner. Luigi must keep his -strength up, of course, and the soothing influence of innumerable Havana -cigars was not denied to his nerves. - -And then, just as the five hundred pounds was finished, a wretched -Russian (quickly followed by an American, two Russians, a Turk, a -Frenchman, and an Englishman) publicly challenged Luigi in the press of -Europe, to wrestle for the Championship of the World in any style he -liked, for any amount he liked, when and where he liked--and that branch -of his profession was closed to Luigi--for these men were giants and -terrors, arranging no "crosses," stern fighters, and out for fame, -money, genuine sport, and the real Championship. - -Then had come a time of poverty, straits, mean shifts and misery, -followed by Luigi's job as a "tamer" of tame lions. This post of -lion-tamer to a cageful of mangy, weary lions, captive-born, -pessimistic, timid and depressed, had been secured by Guiseppe -Longigotto, and handed over to Luigi (on its proving safe and -satisfactory), in the interests of Giuseppe's adored and hungry -Carmelita. Arrayed in the costume worn by all the Best Lion-tamers, -Luigi looked a truly noble figure, as, with flashing eyes and gleaming -teeth, he cracked the whip and fired the revolver that induced the bored -and disgusted lions to amble round the cage, crouching and cringing in -humility and fear. That insignificant little rat, Guiseppe, was far more -in the picture, of course, as fiddler to the show, than he was in his -original role of tamer of the lions. Followed a bad time along the -African coast, culminating, at Algiers, in poor Guiseppe's impassioned -pleadings that Carmelita would marry him (and, leaving this dreadful -life of the road, live with him and his beautiful violin on the banked -proceeds of his great Wrestling Championship scheme), Luigi's jealousy, -his overbearing airs of proprietorship, his drunken cruelty, his -presuming on her love and obedience to him until she sought to give him -a fright and teach him a lesson, his killing of the poor, pretty -musician, and his flight to Sidi-bel-Abbes.... - -To Sidi-bel-Abbes also fled Carmelita, and, with the proceeds of -Guiseppe's dying gift to her, eked out by promises of many things to -many people, such as Jew and Arab lessors and landlords, French dealers, -Spanish-Jew jobbers and contractors, and Negro labourers, contrived to -open La Cafe de la Legion, to run it with herself as proprietress, -manageress, barmaid, musician, singer, actress, and _danseuse_, and to -make it pay to the extent of a daily franc, bottle of Chianti, and a -macaroni, polenta, or spaghetti meal for Luigi, and a very meagre living -for herself. When in need of something more, Carmelita performed at -matinees at the music-hall and at private stances in Arab and other -houses, in the intervals of business. When professional dress would have -rendered her automatic pistol conspicuous and uncomfortable, Carmelita -carried a most serviceable little dagger in her hair. Also she let it -be known among her patrons of the Legion that she was going to a certain -house, garden, or _cafe_ at a certain time, and might be there enquired -for if unduly delayed. Carmelita knew the seamy side of life in -Mediterranean ports, and African littoral and hinterland towns, and took -no chances.... - -And by-and-by her splendid and noble Luigi would marry her, and they -would go to America--where that little matter of manslaughter would -never crop up and cause trouble--and live happily ever after. - -So, faithful, loyal, devoted, Carmelita might be; generous, chaste, and -brave, Carmelita might be--but alas! not refined, not genteel, not above -telling a Chasseur d'Afrique what she thought of him and his insults; -not above spitting at a leering, gesture-making Spahi. No lady.... - -"_Ben venuti, Signori!_" cried Carmelita on catching sight of Il Signor -Jean Boule and the Bucking Bronco. "_Soyez le bien venu, Monsieur Jean -Boule et Monsieur Bronco. Che cosa posso offrirvi?_" and, as they -seated themselves at a small round table near the bar, hastened to bring -the wine favoured by these favoured customers--the so gentle English -Signor, _gentilhomme_, (doubtless once a _milord_, a _nobile_), and the -so gentle, foolish Americano, so slow and strong, who looked at her with -eyes of love, kind eyes, with a good true love. No _milordino_ he, no -_piccol Signor_ (but nevertheless a good man, a _uomo dabbene_, most -certainly...) - -Reginald Rupert was duly presented as Legionnaire Rupert, with all -formality and ceremony, to the Madamigella Carmelita, who ran her -bright, black eye over him, summed him up as another _gentiluomo_, an -obvious _gentilhomme_, pitied him, and wondered what he had "done." - -Carmelita loved a "gentleman" in the abstract, although she loved Luigi -Rivoli in the concrete; adored aristocrats in general, in spite of the -fact that she adored Luigi Rivoli in particular. To her experienced and -observant young eye, Legionnaire Jean Boule and this young _bleu_ were -of the same class, the _aristocratico_ class of _Inghilterra_; birds of -a feather, if not of a nest. They might be father and son, so alike -were they in their difference from the rest. So different even from the -English-speaking Americano, so different from her Luigi. But then, her -Luigi was no mere broken aristocrat; he was the World's Champion -Wrestler and Strong Man, a great and famous Wild Beast Tamer, and--her -Luigi. - -"_Buona sera, Signor_," said Carmelita to Rupert. "_Siete venuto per la -via di Francie?_" and then, in Legion-French and Italian, proceeded to -comment upon the new recruit's appearance, his _capetti riccioluti_ and -to enquire whether he used the _calamistro_ and _ferro da ricci_ to -obtain the fine crisp wave in his hair. - -Not at all a refined and ladylike maiden, and very, very far from the -standards of Surbiton, not to mention Balham. - -Reginald Rupert (to whom love and war were the two things worth living -for), on understanding the drift of the lady's remarks, proposed -forthwith "to cross the bar" and "put out to see" whether he could not -give her a personal demonstration of the art of hair-curling, but-- - -"_Non vi pigliate fastidio_," said Carmelita. "Don't trouble yourself -Signor Azzurro--Monsieur Bleu. And if Signor Luigi Rivoli should enter -and see the young Signor on my side of the bar--Luigi's side of the -bar--why, one look of his eye would so make the young Signor's hair curl -that, for the rest of his life, the _calamistro_, the curling-tongs, -would be superfluous." - -"Yep," chimed in the Bucking Bronco. "I guess as haow it's about time -yure Loojey's bright eyes got closed, my dear, an' I'm goin' ter bung -'em both up one o' these fine days, when I got the cafard. Yure -Loojey's a great lady-killer an' recruit-killer, we know, an' he can -talk a tin ear on a donkey. I say _Il parlerait une oreille d'etain sur -un ane_. Yure Loojey'd make a hen-rabbit git mad an' bark. I say -_Votre Loojey causer ait une lapine devenir fou et ecorcer_. I got it -in fer yure Loojey. I say _Je l'ai dans pour votre Loojey_.... -Comprenny? _Intendete quel che dico?_" and the Bucking Bronco drank off -a pint of wine, drew his tiny, well-thumbed French dictionary from one -pocket and his "Travellers' Italian Phrase-book" from another, cursed -the Tower of Babel, and all foreign tongues, and sought words wherewith -to say that it was high time for Luigi Rivoli "to quit beefin' aroun' -Madam lar Canteenair, to wipe off his chin considerable, to cease being -a sticker, a sucker, and a skinamalink girl-sponging meal-and-money -cadger; and to quit tellin' stories made out o' whole cloth,[#] that cut -no ice with nobody except Carmelita." - - -[#] Untrue. - - -This young lady gathered that, as usual, the poor, silly jealous -Americano was belittling and insulting her Luigi, if not actually -threatening him. _Him_, who could break any Americano across his knee. -With a toss of her head and a contemptuous "Invidioso! Scioccone!" for -the Bronco, a flick on the nose with the _krenfell_ flower from her ear -for Rupert, a blown kiss for _Babbo_ Jean Boule, Carmelita flitted away, -going from table to table to minister to the mental, moral, and physical -needs of her other devoted Legionnaires as they arrived--men of strange -and dreadful lives who loved her then and there, who remembered her -thereafter and elsewhere, and who sent her letters, curios, pressed -flowers and strange presents from the ends of the earth where flies the -_tricouleur_, and the Flag of the Legion--in Tonkin, Madagascar, -Senegal, Morocco, the Sahara--in every Southern Algerian station -wherever the men of the Legion tramped to their death to the strains of -the regimental march of "_Tiens, voila du boudin_." - -"Advise me, Mam'zelle," said a young Frenchman of the Midi, rising to -his feet with a flourish of his kepi and a sweeping bow, as Carmelita -approached the table at which he and three companions sat, "Advise me as -to the investment of this wealth, fifty centimes, all at once. Shall it -be five glorious green absinthes or five _chopes_ of the wine of -Algiers?--or shall I warm my soul with burning bapedi...?" - -"Four bottles of wine is what you want for Andre, Raoul, Leon, and -yourself," was the reply. "Absinthe is the mamma and the papa and all -the ancestors of _le cafard_ and you are far too young and tender for -bapedi. It mingles not well with mother's milk, that...." - -In the extreme corner of the big, badly-lit room, a Legionary sat alone, -his back to the company, his head upon his folded arms. Passing near, -on her tour of ministration, Carmelita's quick eye and ear perceived -that the man was sobbing and weeping bitterly. It might be the poor -Grasshopper passing through one of his terrible dark hours, and -Carmelita's kind heart melted with pity for the poor soul, smartest of -soldiers, and maddest of madmen. - -Going over to where he sat apart, Carmelita bent over him, placed her -arm around his neck, and stroked his glossy dark hair. - -"_Pourquoi faites-vous Suisse, mon pauvre?_" she murmured with a -motherly caress. "What is it? Tell Carmelita." The man raised his face -from his arms, smiled through his tears and kissed the hand that rested -on his shoulder. The handsome and delicate face, the small, well-kept -hands, the voice, were those of a man of culture and refinement. - -"_I ja nai ka!_--How delightful!" he said. "You will make things right. -I am to be made _machi-bugiyo_, governor of the city to-morrow, and I -wish to remain a Japanese lady. I do not want to lay aside the -_suma-goto_ and _samisen_ for the _wakizashi_ and the _katana_--the lute -for the dagger and sword. I don't want to sit on a _tokonoma_ in a -_yashiki_ surrounded by _karo_...." - -"No, no, no, mon cher, you shall not indeed. See le bon Dieu and le bon -Jean Boule will look after you," said Carmelita, gently stroking his hot -forehead and soothing him with little crooning sounds and caresses as -though he had really been the child that, in mind and understanding, he -was. - -John Bull, followed by Rupert, unobtrusively joined Carmelita. Seating -himself beside the unhappy man, he took his hands and gazed steadily -into his suffused eyes. - -"Tell me all about it, Cigale," said he. "You know we can put it right. -When has Jean Boule failed to explain and arrange things for you?" - -The madman repeated that he dreaded to have to sit on the raised dais of -the Palace of a Governor of a City surrounded by officials and advisers. - -"I know I should soon be involved in a _kataki-uchi_ with a neighbouring -clan, and have to commit hara-kiri if I failed to keep the Mikado's -peace. It is terrible. You don't know how I long to remain a lady. I -want silk and music and cherry-blossom instead of steel and blood," and -again he laid his head upon his arms and continued his low, hopeless -sobbing. - -Reginald Rupert's face expressed blank astonishment at the sight of the -weeping soldier. - -"What's up?" he said. - -Legionnaire John Bull tapped his forehead. - -"Poor chap will behave _more Japonico_ for the rest of the day now. I -fancy he's been an attache in Japan. You don't know Japanese by any -chance? I have forgotten the little I knew." - -Rupert shook his head. - -"Look here, Cigale," said John Bull, raising the afflicted man and again -fixing the steady, benign gaze upon his eyes, "why are you making all -this trouble for yourself? You know I am the Mikado and All-powerful! -You have only to appeal to me and the Shogun must release you. Of -course you can remain a Japanese lady--and I'll tell you what, ma chere, -ma petite fille Japonaise, not only shall you remain a lady, but a lady -of the old school and of the days before the accursed Foreign Devils -came in to break down ancient customs. I promise it. To-morrow you -shall shave off your eyebrows and paint them in two inches above your -eyes. I promise it. More. Your teeth shall be lacquered black. Now -cease these ungrateful repinings, and be a happy maiden once again. By -order of the Mikado!" - -Once again the voice and eye, and the gentle wise sympathy and -comprehension of ce bon Jean Boule had succeeded and triumphed. The -madman, falling at his feet, knelt and bowed three times, his forehead -touching the ground, in approved geisha fashion. - -"And now you've got to come and lie down, or you won't be fit for the -eyebrow-shaving ceremony to-morrow," said Carmelita, and led him to a -broad, low divan, which made a cosy, if dirty, corner remote from the -bar. - -"That's as extraordinary a case as ever I came across," remarked John -Bull to Rupert as they rejoined the Bucking Bronco, who was talking to -the Cockney and the Russian twins, "as mad as any lunatic in any asylum -in the world, and yet as absolutely competent and correct in every -detail of soldiering as any soldier in the Legion. He is the Perfect -Private Soldier--and a perfect lunatic. Most of the time, off parade -that is, he thinks he's a grasshopper, and the rest of the time he -thinks he's of some remarkably foreign nationality, such as a Zulu, an -Eskimo, or a Chinaman. I should very much like to know his story. He -must have travelled pretty widely. He has certainly been an officer in -the Belgian Guides (their Officers' Mess is one of the most exclusive -and aristocratic in the world, as you know) and he has certainly been a -Military Attache in the East. He is perfectly harmless and a most -thorough gentleman, poor soul.... Yes, I should greatly like to know -his story," and added as he poured out a glass of wine, "but we don't -ask men their 'stories' in the Legion...." - -Carmelita returned to her high seat by the door of her little room -behind the bar--the door upon the outside of which many curious regards -had oftentimes been fixed. - -Carmelita was troubled. Why did not Luigi come? Were his duties so -numerous and onerous nowadays that he had but a bare hour for his late -dinner and his bottle of Chianti? Time was, when he arrived as soon -after five o'clock as a wash and change of uniform permitted. Time was, -when he could spend from early evening to late night in the Cafe de la -Legion, outstaying the latest visitors. And that time was also the time -when Madame la Cantiniere was not a widow--the days before Madame's -husband had been sliced, sawn, snapped, torn, and generally mangled by -certain other widows--of certain Arabs--away to the South. This might be -coincidence of course, and yet--and yet--several Legionnaires who had no -axe to grind and who were not jealous of Luigi's fortune, had -undoubtedly coupled his name with that of Madame.... - -"An' haow did yew find yure little way to our dope-joint hyar?" the -Bucking Bronco enquired of Mikhail Kyrilovitch, as he did the honours of -Carmelita's "joint" to the three _bleus_ who had entered while John Bull -was talking to the Grasshopper. - -"Well, since you arx, we jest ups an' follers you, old bloke, when yer -goes aht wiv these two uvver Henglish coves," replied the Cockney. - -The American regarded him with the eye of large and patient tolerance. -He preferred the Russians, particularly Mikhail, and rejoiced that they -spoke English. It would have been too much to have attempted to add a -working knowledge of Russian to his other linguistic stores. -Nevertheless, he would, out of compliment to their nationality, produce -such words of their strange tongue as he could command. It might serve -to make them feel more at home like. - -"I'm afraid I can't ask yew moojiks ter hev a little caviare an' wodky, -becos' Carmelita is out of it.... But there's cawfy in the sammy-var I -hev no doubt," he said graciously. - -The Russians thanked him, and Feodor pledging him in a glass of -absinthe, promised to teach him the art of concocting _lompopo_, while -Mikhail quietly sipped his glass of sticky, sweet Algerian wine. - -Restless Carmelita joined the group, and her friend Jean Boule -introduced the three new patrons. - -"Prahd an' honoured, Miss, I'm shore," said the Cockney. "'Ave a -port-an'-lemon or thereabahts?" - -But Carmelita was too interested in the startling similarity of the -twins to pay attention to the civilities and blandishments of the -Cockney, albeit he surreptitiously wetted his fingers with wine and -smoothed his smooth and shining "cowlick" or "quiff" (the highly -ornamental fringe which, having descended to his eyebrows, turned -aspiringly upward). - -"_Gemello_," she murmured, turning from Feodor and his cheery greeting -to Mikhail, who responded with a graceful little bow, suddenly -terminated and changed to a curt nod, like that given by Feodor. As -Carmelita continued her direct gaze, a dull flush grew and mantled over -his face. - -"_Cielo_! But how the boy blushes! Now is it for his own sins, or -mine, I wonder?" laughed Carmelita, pointing accusingly at poor -Mikhail's suffused face. - -"Gawdstreuth! Can't 'e blush," remarked Mr. Higgins. - -The dull flush became a vivid, burning blush under Carmelita's pointing -finger, and the regard of the amused Legionaries. - -"Corpo di Bacco!" laughed the teasing girl. "A blushing Legionary! The -dear, sweet, good boy. If only _I_ could blush like that. And he -brings his blushes to Madame la Republique's Legion. Well, it is not -_porta vasi a Samo!_"[#] - - -[#] Lit., "to carry coals to Newcastle." - - -"Never mind, Sonny," said the American soothingly, "there's many a worse -stunt than blushin'. I uster use blushes considerable meself--when I -was a looker 'bout yure age." He translated. - -Carmelita's laughter pealed out again at the idea of the blushing -American. Feodor's laughter mingled with Carmelita's, but sounded -forced. - -"Isn't it funny?" he remarked. "My brother has always been like that, -but believe me, Padrona, I could not blush to save my life." - -"Si, si," laughed Carmelita. "You have sinned and he has blushed--all -your lives, is it not so--le pauvre petit?" and saucily rubbed the side -of Mikhail's crimson face with the backs of her fingers--and looked -unwontedly thoughtful as he jerked his head away with a look of -annoyance. - -"La, la, la!" said Carmelita. "Musn't he be teased then?..." - -"Come, Signora," broke in Feodor again, "you're making him blush worse -than ever. Such kindness is absolutely wasted. Now I..." - -"No, _you_ wouldn't blush with shame and fright, no, nor yet with -innocence, would you, Signor Feodor? _E un peccato!_" replied the girl, -and lightly brushed his cheek as she spoke. - -The good Feodor did not blush, but the look of thoughtfulness deepened -on Carmelita's face. - -To the finer perceptions of John Bull there seemed to be something -strained and discomfortable in the atmosphere. Carmelita had fallen -silent, Feodor seemed annoyed and anxious, Mikhail frightened and -anxious, and Mr. 'Erb 'Iggins of too gibing a humour. - -"You are making me positively jealous, Signora Carmelita, and leaving me -thirsty," he said, and with a small repentant squeal Carmelita flitted -to the bar. - -"Would you like a biscuit too, Signor Jean Boule?" she called, and -tossed one across to him as she spoke. John Bull neatly caught the -biscuit as it flew somewhat wide. Carmelita, like most women, could not -throw straight. - -"_Tiro maestro,_" she applauded, and launched another at the unprepared -Mikhail with a cry of "Catch, _goffo_." Instinctively, he "made a lap" -and spread out his hands. - -"_Esattamente!_" commented Carmelita beneath her breath and apparently -lost interest in the little group.... - -A quartet of Legionaries swaggered into the _cafe_ and approached the -bar--Messieurs Malvin, Borges, Bauer and Hirsch, henchmen and satellites -of Luigi Rivoli--and saluted to Carmelita's greeting of "Buona sera, -Signori...." - -"Bonsoir, M. Malvin," added she to the dapper, low-bowing Austrian, -whose evil face, with its close-set ugly eyes, sharp crooked nose, waxed -moustache, and heavy jowl, were familiar to her as those of one of -Luigi's more intimate followers. "Where is Signor Luigi Rivoli -to-night? He has no guard duty?" - -"No, mia signora--er--that is--yes," replied Malvin in affected -discomfort. "He is--ah--on duty." - -"On duty in the Canteen?" asked Carmelita, flushing. - -"What do I know of the comings and goings of the great Luigi Rivoli?" -answered Malvin. "Doubtless he will fortify himself with a litre of -wine at Madame's bar in the Canteen before walking down here." - -"Luigi Rivoli drinks no sticky Algerian wine," said Carmelita angrily -and her eyes and teeth flashed dangerously. "He drinks Chianti from -Home. He never enters her Canteen." - -"Ah! So?" murmured Malvin in a non-committal manner. And then -Carmelita's anxiety grew a little greater--greater even than her dislike -and distrust of M. Edouard Malvin, and she did what she had never done -before. She voiced it to him. - -"Look you, Monsieur Malvin, tell me the truth. I will not tell my Luigi -that you have accused him to me, or say that you have spoken ill of him -behind his back. Tell me the truth. _Is_ he in the Canteen? Tell me, -cher Monsieur Malvin." - -"Have I the double sight, bella Carmelita? How should I know where le -Legionnaire Rivoli may be?" fenced the soi-disant Belgian, who desired -nothing better than to win the woman from the man--and toward himself. -Failing Madame la Cantiniere and the Legion's Canteen, what better than -Carmelita and the Cafe de la Legion for a poor hungry and thirsty -soldier? If the great Luigi must win the greater prize let the little -Malvin win the lesser. To which end let him curry favour with La Belle -Carmelita--just as far as such a course of action did not become -premature, and lead to a painful interview with an incensed Luigi -Rivoli. - -"Tell me the truth, cher Monsieur Malvin. Where is my Luigi?" again -asked Carmelita pleadingly. - -"_Donna e Madonna_," replied the good M. Malvin, with piteous eyes, -broken voice, and protecting hand placed gently over that of Carmelita -which lay clenched upon the zinc-covered bar. "What shall I say? Luigi -Rivoli is a giant among men--I, a little fat _deboletto_, a _sparutello_ -whom the great Luigi could kill with one hand. Though I love Carmelita, -I fear Luigi. How shall I tell of his doings with that husband-seeking -_puttana_ of the Canteen; of his serving behind the bar, helping her, -taking her money, drinking her wine (wine of Algiers); of his passionate -and burning prayers that she will marry him? How can I, his friend, -tell of those things? But oh! Carmelita, my poor honest heart is -wrung..." and le bon Monsieur Malvin paused to hope that his neck also -would not be wrung as the result of this moving eloquence. - -For a moment Carmelita's eyes blazed and her hands and her little white -teeth clenched. Mother of God! if Luigi played her false after all she -had done for him, after all she had given him--given _for_ him!... But -no, it was unthinkable.... This Malvin was an utter knave and liar, and -would fool her for his own ends--the very man _fare un pesce d'Aprile a -qualcuno_. He should see how far his tricks succeeded with Carmelita of -the Legion, the chosen of Carlo Scopinaro! And yet ... and yet... She -would ask Il Signor Jean Boule again. He would never lie. He would -neither backbite Luigi Rivoli, nor stand by and see Carmelita deceived. -Yes, she would ask Jean Boule, and then if he _too_ accused Luigi she -would find some means to see and hear for herself.... Trust her woman's -wit for that. And meantime this serpent of a Malvin... - -"_Se ne vada!_" she hissed, whirling upon him suddenly, and pointed to -the door. Malvin slunk away, by no means anxious to be present at the -scene which would certainly follow should Luigi enter before Carmelita's -mood had changed. He would endeavour to meet and delay him.... - -"What do yew say to acontinuin' o' this hyar gin-crawl?" asked the -Bucking Bronco of Rupert. "Come and see our other pisen-joint and Madame -lar Cantenair." - -"Anything you like," replied Rupert. - -"Let's go out when they do," said Mikhail quickly, in Russian, to -Feodor. - -"All right, silly Olka," was the whispered reply. - -"Silly Fedka, to call me Olka," was the whispered retort. "You're a -pretty _budotchnik_,[#] aren't you?" - - -[#] Guardian, watchman. - - -"Yus," agreed Mr. 'Erb Higgins, nodding cordially to Rupert, and -bursting into appropriate and tuneful song-- - - "Come where the booze is cheaper, - Come where the pots 'old more, - Come where the boss is a bit of a joss, - Ho! come to the pub next door." - - -Evidently a sociable and expansive person, easily thawed by a _chope_ of -cheap wine withal; neither standoffish nor haughty, for he thrust one -friendly arm through that of Jean Boule, and another round the waist of -Reginald Rupert. Let it not be supposed that it was under the influence -of liquor rather than of sheer, expansive geniality that 'Erb proposed -to walk _a braccetto_, as Carmelita observed, with his new-found -friends.... - -As the party filed out of the _cafe_, Mikhail Kyrilovitch, who was -walking last of the party, felt a hand slip within his arm to detain -him. Turning, he beheld Carmelita's earnest little face near his own. -In his ear she whispered in French-- - -"I have your secret, little one--but have no fear. Should anyone else -discover it, come to Carmelita," and before the astonished Mikhail could -reply she was clearing empty glasses and bottles from their table. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - THE CANTEEN OF THE LEGION - - -From the Canteen, a building in the corner of the barrack-square, -proceeded sounds of revelry by night. - -"Blimey! Them furriners are singin' 'Gawd save the Queen' like bloomin' -Christians," remarked 'Erb as the little party approached the modest -Temple of Bacchus. - -"No, they are Germans singing '_Heil dir im Sieges-Kranz_,' replied -Feodor Kyrilovitch in English. - -"And singing it most uncommonly well," added Legionary John Bull. - -"Fancy them 'eathens pinchin' the toon like that," commented 'Erb. -"They oughtn't to be allowed... Do they 'old concerts 'ere? I dessay -they'd like to 'ear some good Henglish songs...." - -Reginald Rupert never forgot his first glimpse of the Canteen of the -Legion, though he entered it hundreds of times and spent hundreds of -hours beneath its corrugated iron roof. Scores of Legionaries, -variously clad in blue and red or white sat on benches at long tables, -or lounged at the long zinc-covered bar, behind which were Madame and -hundreds of bottles and large wine-glasses. - -Madame la Vivandiere de la Legion was not of the school of "Cigarette." -Rupert failed to visualise her with any clearness as leading a cavalry -charge (the _Drapeau_ of La France in one hand, a pistol in the other, -and her reins in her mouth), inspiring Regiments, advising Generals, -softening the cruel hearts of Arabs, or "saving the day" for La Patrie, -in the manner of the vivandiere of fiction. Madame had a beady eye, a -perceptible moustache, a frankly downy chin, two other chins, a more -than ample figure, and looked, what she was, a female camp-sutler. -Perhaps Madame appeared more Ouidaesque on the march, wearing her -official blue uniform as duly constituted and appointed _fille du -regiment_. At present she looked... However, the bow of Reginald -Rupert, together with his smile and honeyed words, were those of -Mayfair, as he was introduced by Madame's admired friend ce bon Jean -Boule, and he stepped straight into Madame's experienced but capacious -heart. Nor was the brightness of the image dulled by the ten-franc -piece which he tendered with the request that Madame would supply the -party with her most blushful Hippocrene. 'Erb, being introduced, struck -an attitude, his hand upon his heart. Madame coughed affectedly. - -"Makes a noise like a 'igh-class parlour-maid bein' jilted, don' she?" -he observed critically. - -Having handed a couple of bottles and a large glass to each member of -the party, by way of commencement in liquidating the coin, she returned -to her confidential whispering with Monsieur le Legionnaire Luigi Rivoli -(who lolled, somewhat drunk, in a corner of the bar) as the group seated -itself at the end of a long table near the window. - -It being "holiday," that is, pay-day, the Canteen was full, and most of -its patrons had contrived to emulate it. A very large number had laid -out the whole of their _decompte_--every farthing of two-pence -halfpenny--on wine. Others, wiser and more continent, had reserved a -halfpenny for tobacco. In one corner of the room an impromptu German -glee party was singing with such excellence that the majority of the -drinkers were listening to them with obvious appreciation. With hardly -a break, and with the greatest impartiality they proceeded from -part-song to hymn, from hymn to drinking-song, from drinking-song to -sentimental love-ditty. Finally _Ein feste burg ist unser Gott_ being -succeeded by _Die Wacht am Rhein_ and _Deutschland ueber Alles_, the -French element in the room thought that a little French music would be a -pleasing corrective, and with one accord, if not in one key, gave a -spirited rendering of the Marseillaise, followed by-- - - "Tiens, voila du boudin - Tiens, voila du boudin - Tiens, voia du boudin - Pour les Alsaciens, les Suisses, et les Lorraines, - Four les Belges il n'y en a plus - Car ce sont des tireurs du flanc..." etc., - -immediately succeeded by-- - - "As-tu vu la casquette - La casquette - Du Pere Bougeaud," etc. - - -As the ditty came to a close a blue-jowled little Parisian--quick, -nervous, and alert--sprang on to a table, and with a bottle in one hand, -and a glass in the other, burst into the familiar and favourite-- - - "C'est l'empereur de Danemark - Qui a dit a sa moitie - Depuis quelqu' temps je remarque - Que tu sens b'en fort les pieds..." etc. - - "C'est la reine Pomare - Qui a pour tout tenue - Au milieu de l'ete..." - -the song being brought to an untimely end by reason of the parties on -either side of the singer's table entering into a friendly tug-of-war -with his feet as rope-ends. As he fell, amid howls of glee and the -crashing of glass, the Bucking Bronco remarked to Rupert-- - -"Gwine ter be some rough-housin' ter-night ef we're lucky," but ere the -melee could become general, Madame la Cantiniere, descending from her -throne behind the bar, bore down upon the rioters and rated them -soundly--imbeciles, fools, children, vauriens, and _sales cochons_ that -they were. Madame was well aware of the fact that a conflagration -should be dealt with in its earliest stages and before it became -general. - -"This is really extraordinarily good wine," remarked Rupert to John -Bull. - -"Yes," replied the latter. "It's every bit as good at three-halfpence a -bottle as it is at three-and-six in England, and I'd advise you to stick -to it and let absinthe alone. It does one no harm, in reason, and is a -great comfort. It's our greatest blessing and our greatest curse. -Absinthe is pure curse--and inevitably means 'cafard.'" - -"What is this same 'cafard' of which one hears so much?" asked Rupert. - -"Well, the word itself means 'beetle,' I believe, and sooner or later -the man who drinks absinthe in this climate feels the beetle crawling -round and round in his brain. He then does the maddest things and -ascribes the impulse to the beetle. He finally goes mad and generally -commits murder or suicide, or both. That is one form of _cafard_, and -the other is mere fed-upness, a combination of liverish temper, boredom -and utter hatred and loathing of the terrible ennui of the life." - -"Have you had it?" asked the other. - -"Everyone has it at times," was the reply, "especially in the tiny -desert-stations where the awful heat, monotony, and lack of employment -leave one the choice of drink or madness. If you drink you're certain -to go mad, and if you don't drink you're sure to. Of course, men like -ourselves--educated, intelligent, and all that--have more chance than -the average 'Tommy' type, but it's very dangerous for the highly strung -excitable sort. He's apt to go mad and stay mad. We only get fits of -it." - -"Don't the authorities do anything to amuse and employ the men in desert -stations, like we do in India?" enquired the younger man. - -"Absolutely nothing. They prohibit the _Village Negre_ in every -station, compel men to lie on their cots from eleven till four, and do -nothing at all to relieve the maddening monotony of drill, sentry-go and -punishment. On the other hand, _cafard_ is so recognised an institution -that punishments for offences committed under its influence are -comparatively light. It takes different people differently, and is -sometimes comic--though generally tragic." - -"I should think you're bound to get something of the sort wherever men -lead a very hard and very monotonous life, in great heat," said Rupert. - -"Oh yes," agreed John Bull. "After all _le cafard_ is not the private -and peculiar speciality of the Legion. We get a very great deal of -madness of course, but I think it's nearly as much due to predisposition -as it is to the hard monotonous life.... You see we are a unique -collection, and a considerable minority of us must be more or less queer -in some way, or they wouldn't be here." - -Rupert wondered why the speaker was "here" but refrained from asking. - -"Can you classify the recruits at all clearly?" he asked. - -"Oh yes," was the reply. "The bulk of them are here simply and solely -for a living; hungry men who came here for board and lodging. Thousands -of foreigners in France have found themselves down on their uppers, with -their last sou gone, fairly on their beam-ends and their room-rent -overdue. To such men the Foreign Legion offers a home. Then, again, -thousands of soldiers commit some heinous military 'crime' and desert to -the Foreign Legion to start afresh. We get most of our Germans and -Austrians that way, and not a few French who pretend to be Belgians to -avoid awkward questions as to their papers. We get Alsatians by the -hundred of course, too. It is their only chance of avoiding service -under the hated German. They fight for France, and by their five years' -Legion-service earn the right to naturalisation also. There are a good -many French, too, who are 'rehabilitating' themselves. Men who have -come to grief at home and prefer the Legion to prison. Then there is -undoubtedly a wanted-by-the-police class of men who have bolted from all -parts of Europe and taken sanctuary here. Yes, I should say the -out-of-works, deserters, runaways and Alsatians make up three parts of -the Legion." - -"And what is the other part?" - -"Oh, keen soldiers who have deliberately chosen the Legion for its -splendid military training and constant fighting experience--romantics -who have read vain imaginings and figments of the female mind like -'Under Two Flags'; and the queerest of Queer Fish, oddments and remnants -from the ends of the earth...." A shout of "Ohe, Grasshopper!" caused -him to turn. - -In the doorway, crouching on his heels, was the man they had left lying -on the settee at Carmelita's. Emitting strange chirruping squeaks, -turning his head slowly from left to right, and occasionally brushing it -from back to front with the sides of his "forelegs," the Grasshopper -approached with long, hopping bounds. - -"And that was once an ornament of Chancelleries and Courts," said John -Bull, as he rose to his feet. "Poor devil! Got his _cafard_ once and -for all at Ain Sefra. There was a big grasshopper or locust in his -_gamelle_ of soup one day.... I suppose he was on the verge at the -moment. Anyhow, he burst into tears and has been a grasshopper ever -since, except when he's a Jap or something of that sort.... He's a -grasshopper when he's 'normal' you might say." - -Going over to where the man squatted, the old Legionary took him by the -arm. "Come and sit on my blade of grass and drink some dew, Cigale," -said he. - -Smiling up brightly at the face which he always recognised as that of a -sympathetic friend, the Grasshopper arose and accompanied John Bull to -the end of the long table at which sat the Englishmen, the Russians, and -the American.... - -Yet more wine had made 'Erb yet more expansive, and he kindly filled his -glass and placed it before the Grasshopper. - -"'Ere drink that hup, Looney, an' I'll sing yer a song as'll warm the -cockles o' yer pore ol' 'eart," he remarked, and suiting the action to -the word, rose to his feet and, lifting up his voice, delivered himself -mightily of that song not unknown to British barrack-rooms-- - - "A German orficer crossin' the Rhine - 'E come to a pub, an' this was the sign - Skibooo, skibooo, - Skibooo, skiana, skibooo." - - -The raucous voice and unwonted British accents (for Englishmen are rare -in the Legion) attracted some attention, and by the time 'Erb had -finished with the German officer and commenced upon "'Oo's that -aknockin' on the dawer," he was well across the footlights and had the -ear and eye of the assembly. Finding himself the cynosure of not only -neighbouring but distant eyes, 'Erb mounted the table and "obliged" with -a clog-dance and "double-shuffle-breakdown" to the huge delight of an -audience ever desiring a new thing. Stimulated by rounds of applause, -and by the cheers and laughter which followed the little Parisian's cry -of "Vive le goddam biftek Anglais," 'Erb burst into further Barrack-room -Ballads unchronicled by, and probably quite unknown to, Mr. Kipling, and -did not admit the superior claims of private thirst until he had dealt -faithfully with "The Old Monk," "The Doctor's Boy," and the indiscreet -adventure of Abraham the Sailor with the Beautiful Miss Taylor.... - -"Some boy, that _com_patriot o' yourn, John," remarked the Bucking -Bronco, "got a reg'lar drorin' room repertory, ain't 'e?" and the soul -of 'Erb was proud within him, and he drank another pint of wine. - -"Nutthink like a little--_hic_--'armony," he admitted modestly, "fer -making a _swarry_ sociable an' 'appy. Wot I ses is--_hic_--wot I ses -is--_hic_--wot I ses is--_hic_...." - -"It is so, sonny, and that's almighty solemn truth," agreed the Bucking -Bronco. - -"Wot I ses is--_hic_--" doggedly repeated 'Erb. - -"Right again, sonny.... He knows what 'e's sayin' all right," observed -the American, turning to the Russians. - -"Wot I ses is--_hic_--" repeated 'Erb dogmatically.... - -"'_Hic jacet!_' Monsieur would say, perhaps?" suggested Feodor. - -'Erb turned upon the last speaker with an entirely kindly contempt. - -"Don't yer igspose yer _hic_-norance," he advised. "You're a foreiller. -You're a neathen. You're a pore _hic_-norant foreiller. Wot I was -goin' ter say was..." But 'Erb lost the thread of his discourse. "Wisht -me donah wos 'ere," he confided sadly to Mikhail Kyrilovitch, wept with -his arm about Mikhail's waist, his head upon Mikhail's shoulder, and -anon lapsed into dreams. Feodor roused the somnolent 'Erb with the -offer of another bottle of wine, and changed places with Mikhail. 'Erb -accepted this tribute to the attractiveness of his personality with -modesty, and with murmured words, the purport of which appeared to be -that Feodor was a discriminating heathen. - -As the evening wore on, the heady wine took effect. The fun, which had -been fast and furious, grew uproarious. Dozens of different men were -singing as many different songs, several were merely howling in sheer -joyless glee, many were dancing singly, others in pairs, or in fours; -one, endeavouring to clamber on to the bar and execute a _pas seul_, was -bodily lifted and thrown half-way down the room by the fighting-drunk -Luigi Rivoli. It was noticeable that, as excitement waxed, the use of -French waned, as men reverted to their native tongues. It crossed the -mind of Rupert that a blindfolded stranger, entering the room, might -well imagine himself to be assisting at the building of the Tower of -Babel. A neighbouring party of Spaniards dropping their guttural, -sibilant Legion-French (with their _ze_ for _je_, _zamais_ for _jamais_, -and _zour_ for _jour_) with one accord broke into their liquid Spanish -and _Nombre de Dios_ took the place of _Nom de Dieu_, as their saturnine -faces creased into leathery smiles. Evidently the new recruit who sat -in their midst was paying his footing with the few francs that he had -brought with him, or obtained for his clothes, for each of the party had -four bottles in solemn row before him, and it was not with the clearest -of utterance that the recruit solemnly and portentously remarked, as he -drained his last bottle-- - -"Santissima Maria! Wine is the tomb of memory, but he who sows in sand -does not reap fish," the hearing of which moved his neighbour to drop -his empty bottles upon the ground with a tear, and a farewell to them-- - -"Vaya usted con Dios. Adios." He then turned with truculent ferocity -and a terrific scowl upon the provider of the feast and -growled--"_Sangre de Cristo!_ thou peseta-less burro, give me a -cigarillo or with the blessing and aid of el Eterno Padre I will cut thy -throat with my thumb-nail. Hasten, perro!" - -With a grunt of "Cosas d'Espafia," the recruit removed his kepi, took a -cigarette therefrom and placed it in the steel-trap mouth of his -_amigo_, to be rewarded with an incredibly sweet and sunny smile and a -"Bueno! Gracias, Senor Jose...." - -Letting his eye roam from this queer band of ex-muleteers, brigands and -smugglers to another party who were wading in the wassail, it needed not -the loud "Donnerwetters!" and rambling reminiscent monologue of a fat -brush-haired youth (on the unspeakable villainies of der Herr -Wacht-meister whose wicked _schadenfreude_ had sent good men to this -_schweinerei_ of a Legion, and who was only fit for the military-train -or to be decapitated with his own _pallasch_) to label them Germans -enjoying a _kommers_. Their stolid, heavy bearing, their business-like -and somewhat brutish way of drinking in great gulps and draughts--as -though a distended stomach rather than a tickled palate was the serious -business of the evening, if not the end and object of life--together -with their upturned moustaches, piggish little eyes, and tow-coloured -bristles, proclaimed them sons of Kultur. - -Rupert could not forbear a smile at the heavy, philosophical gravity -with which the speaker, ceasing his monologue, heaved a deep, deep sigh -and delivered the weighty dictum that a _schoppen_ of the beer of Munich -was worth all the wine of Algiers, and the Hofbrauhaus worth all the -vineyards and canteens of Africa. - -It interested him to notice that among all the nationalities -represented, the French were by far the gayest (albeit with a humour -somewhat _macabre_) and the Germans the most morose and gloomy. He was -to learn later that they provided by far the greatest number of -deserters, that they were eternally grumbling, notably bitter and -resentful, and devoid of the faintest spark of humour. - -His attention was diverted from the Germans by a sudden and horrible -caterwauling which arose from a band of Frenchmen who suddenly commenced -at the tops of their voices to howl that doleful dirge the "Hymne des -Pacifiques." Until they had finished, conversation was impossible. - -"Not all foam neither, Miss, please," murmured the sleeping 'Erb in the -comparative silence which followed the ending of this devastating chant. - -"What's the penalty here for drunkenness?" asked Rupert of John Bull. - -"Depends on what you do," was the reply. "There's no penalty for -drunkenness, as such, so long as it leads to no sins of omission nor -commission.... The danger of getting drunk is that it gives such an -opportunity to any Non-com. who has a down on you. When he sees his man -drunk, he'll follow him and give him some order, or find him some -_corvee_, in the hope that the man will disobey or abuse him--possibly -strike him. Then it's Biribi for the man, and a good mark, as well as -private vengeance, for the zealous Sergeant, who is again noted as a -strong disciplinarian.... I'm afraid it's undeniably true that nothing -helps promotion in the non-commissioned ranks so much as a reputation -for savage ferocity and a brutal insatiable love of punishing. A -knowledge of German helps too, as more than half the Legion speaks -German, but harsh domineering cruelty is the first requisite, and a -Non-commissioned Officer's merit is in direct proportion to the number -of punishments he inflicts. Our Sergeant-Major, for example, is known as -the 'Suicide-maker,' and is said to be very proud of the title. The -number of men he has sent to their graves direct, or _via_ the Penal -Battalions, must be enormous, and, so far as I can see, he has attained -his high and exceedingly influential position simply and solely by -excelling in the art of inventing crimes and punishing them -severely--for he is a dull uneducated peasant without brains or ability. -It is this type of Non-com., the monotony, and the poverty, that make -the Legion such a hell for anyone who is not dead keen on soldiering for -its own sake...." - -"I'm very glad you're keen," he added. - -"Oh, rather. I'm as keen as mustard," replied Rupert, "and I was -utterly fed up with peace-soldiering and poodle-faking. I have done -Sandhurst and had a turn as a trooper in a crack cavalry corps. I wanted -to have a look-in at the North-west Frontier Police in Canada after -this, and then the Cape Mounted Rifles. I shan't mind the hardships and -monotony here if I can get some active service, and feel I am learning -something. I have a few thousand francs, too, at the _Credit Lyonnais_, -so I shan't have to bear the poverty cross." - -"A few thousand francs, my dear chap!" observed John Bull, smiling. -"Croesus I A few thousand francs will give you a few hundred -fair-weather friends, relief from a few hundred disagreeable corvees, -and duties; give you wine, tobacco, food, medicine, books, -distractions--almost anything but escape from the Legion's military -duties as distinguished from the menial. There is nowhere in the world -where money makes so much difference as in the Legion--simply because -nowhere is it so rare. If among the blind the one-eyed is king, among -Legionaries he who has a franc is a bloated plutocrat. Where else in -the world is tenpence the equivalent of the daily wages of twenty -men--twenty soldier-labourers? Yes, a few thousand francs will greatly -alleviate your lot in the Legion, or expedite your departure when you've -had enough--for it's quite hopeless to desert without mufti and money." - -"I'll leave some in the bank then, against the time I feel I've had -enough.... By the way, if you or your friend--er--Mr. Bronco at any -time.... If I could be of service ... financially..." and he coloured -uncomfortably. - -To offer money to this grave, handsome gentleman of refined speech and -manners was like tipping an Ambassador, or offering the "price of a pot" -to your Colonel, or your Grandfather. - -"What do you mean by _corvee_ and the Legion's menial duties, and -soldier-labourers?" he continued hurriedly to change the subject. - -"Yesterday," replied Sir Montague Merline coolly, "I was told off as one -of a fatigue-party to clean the congested open sewers of the native gaol -of Sidi-bel-Abbes. While I and my brothers-in-arms (some of whom had -fought for France, like myself, in Tonkin, Senegal, Madagascar, and the -Sahara) did the foulest work conceivable, manacled Negro and Arab -criminals jeered at us, and bade us strive to give them satisfaction. -Having been in India, you'll appreciate the situation. Natives watching -white 'sweepers' labouring on their behalf." - -"One can hardly believe it," ejaculated Rupert, and his face froze with -horror and indignation. - -"Yes," continued the other. "I reflected on the dignity of labour, and -remembered the beautiful words of John Bright, or John Bunyan, or some -other Johnnie about, 'Who sweeps a room as unto God, makes himself and -the action fine.' I certainly made myself very dirty.... The -Legionaries are the labourers, scavengers, gardeners, builders, -road-makers, street-cleaners, and general coolies of any place in which -they are stationed. They are drafted to the barracks of the Spahis and -Turcos--the Native Cavalry and Infantry--to do jobs that the Spahis and -Turcos would rather die than touch; and, of course, they're employed for -every kind of work to which Government would never dream of setting -French regulars. I have myself worked (for a ha'penny a day) at -wheeling clay, breaking stones, sawing logs, digging, carrying bricks, -hauling trucks, shovelling sand, felling trees, weeding gardens, -sweeping streets, grave-digging, and every kind of unskilled manual -corvee you can think of--in addition, of course, to the daily -routine-work and military training of a soldier of the Legion--which is -three times as arduous as that of any other soldier in the world." - -"Sa--a--ay, John," drawled the Bucking Bronco, rousing himself at last -from the deep brooding reverie into which he had plunged in search of -mental images and memories of Carmelita, "give yure noo soul-affinity -the other side o' the medal likewise, or yew'll push him off the -water-waggon into the absinthe-barrel." - -"Well," continued John Bull, "you can honestly say you belong to the -most famous, most reckless, most courageous regiment in the world; to -the regiment that has fought more battles, won more battles, lost more -men and gained more honours, than any in the whole history of war. You -belong to the Legion that never retreats, that dies--and of whose deaths -no record is kept.... It is the last of the real Mercenaries, the -Soldiers of Fortune, and if France sent it to-morrow to such a task that -five thousand men were wastefully and vainly killed, not a question -would be asked in the Chamber, nor the Press: nothing would be said, -nothing known outside the War Department. We exist to die for France in -the desert, the swamp, or the jungle, by bullet or disease--in Algeria, -Morocco, Sahara, the Soudan, West Africa, Madagascar, and Cochin -China--in doing what her regular French and Native troops neither could -nor would do. We are here to die, and it's the duty of our officers to -kill us--more or less usefully. To kill us for France, working or -fighting...." - -"'Ear, 'ear, John!" applauded the Bucking Bronco. "Some orator, ain't -he?" he observed with pride, turning to Mikhail who had been following -the old Legionary with parted lips and shining eyes. "Guess ol' John's -some stump-speecher as well as a looker.... Go it, ol' section-boss, git -on a char," and he smote his beloved John resoundingly upon the back. - -John Bull, despite his years and grey hairs, blushed painfully. - -"Sorry," he grunted. - -"But indeed, Monsieur speaks most interestingly and with eloquence. -Pray continue," said Mikhail with diffident earnestness. - -John Bull looked still more uncomfortable. - -"Do go on," said Rupert. - -"Oh, that's all," replied John Bull.... "But we are the cheapest -labourers, the finest soldiers, the most dangerous, reckless devils ever -gathered together.... The incredible army--and there's anything from -eight to twelve thousand of us in Africa and China, and nobody but the -War Minister knows the real number. You're a ha'penny hero now, my boy, -and a ha'penny day-labourer, and you're not expected to wear out in less -than five years--unless you're killed by the enemy, disease, or the -Non-coms." - -"Have you ever regretted coming here?" asked Rupert, and could have -bitten his tongue as he realised he had asked a personal and prying -question. - -"Well, I have re-enlisted twice," parried the other, "and that is a -pretty good testimonial to La Legion. I have had unlimited experience of -active service of all kinds, against enemies of all sorts except -Europeans, and I hope to have that--against Germany[#]--before I've -done." - - -[#] Written in 1913.--AUTHOR. - - -"But what about all the Germans in the Legion, in that case?" enquired -Rupert. - -"Oh, they wouldn't be sent," was the reply. "They'd all go to the -Southern Stations, and the Moroccan border, or to Madagascar and Tonkin. -Of course, the Alsatians and Lorraines would jump for joy at the -chance." - -Conversation at this point again became more and more difficult in the -increasing din, which was not diminished as 'Erb awoke, yawned, stated -that he had a mouth like the bottom of a parrot's cage, that he was -thoroughly blighted, and indeed blasted, produced a large mouth-organ, -and rendered "Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road," with enthusiastic soul -and vigorous lungs. - -Roused to a pinnacle of joyous enthusiasm and yearning for emulation, -not only the little Parisian, but the whole party of Frenchmen leapt -upon their table with wild whoops, and commenced to dance, some the -_carmagnole_, some the _can-can_, some the cake-walk, and others the -_bamboula_, the _chachuqua_, or the "_singe-sur-poele_." Glasses and -bottles crashed to the ground, and Legionaries with them. A form broke. - -Above the stamping, howling, smashing, and crashing, Madame's shrill -screams rang clear, as she mingled imprecations and commands with -lamentations that Luigi Rivoli had departed. Pandemonium increased to -"_tohuwabohu_." Louder wailed the mouth-organ, louder bawled the -Frenchmen, louder screamed Madame, loudest of all shrilled the "Lights -Out" bugle in the barrack-square--and peace reigned. In a minute the -room was empty, silent and dark, as the clock struck nine. - - - Sec.2 - -"You'll be awakened by yells of '_Au jus_' from the garde-chambre at -about five to-morrow," said John Pull to Rupert as they undressed. "As -soon as you have swallowed the coffee he'll pour into your mug from his -jug, hop out and sweep under your bed. The room-orderly has got to sweep -out the room and be on parade as soon as the rest, and it's impossible -unless everybody sweeps under his own bed and leaves the orderly to do -the rest." - -"What about food?" asked the other, who had the healthy appetite of his -years and health. - -"Oh--plain and sufficient," was the answer. "Good soup and bread; hard -biscuit twice a week; and wine every other day--monotonous of course. -Meals at eleven o'clock and five o'clock only.... By the way unless -your feet are fairly tough, you'd better wear _chaussettes russes_ until -they harden--strips of greasy linen bound round, you know. The skin -will soon toughen if you pour _bapedi_, or any other strong spirit into -your boots, and you can tallow your feet before a long march. Having no -socks will seem funny at first, but in time you come to hate the idea of -them. Much less cleanly really, and the cause of all blisters." - -Rupert looked doubtful, and thought of his silk-sock bills. Even as a -trooper he had always kept one silk pair to put on after the bath which -followed a long march. (There are few things so refreshing as the -vigorous brushing of one's hair and the putting of silk socks on to -bathed feet after a heavy day.) - -"Good night, and Good Luck in the Legion," added John Bull as he lay -down. - -"Good night--and thanks awfully, sir, for your kindness," replied -Rupert, and vainly endeavoured to compose himself to sleep on his bed -which consisted of a straw-stuffed mattress, a straw-stuffed pillow, and -two thin raspy blankets.... - -Mikhail Kyrilovitch sat on his bed whispering with his brother, about -the medical examination of recruits which would take place on the -morrow. - -"Well, we can only hope for the best," said Feodor at last, "and they -all say the same thing--that it is generally the merest formality. The -Medecin-Major looks at your face and teeth and asks if you are healthy. -It's not like what Ivan and I went through in Paris.... They wouldn't -have two searching medical examinations unless there appeared to be -signs of weakness, I should think." - -When the room was wrapped in silence and darkness the latter arose. - -"Good night, _golubtchik_," he whispered, "and when your heart fails -you, remember Marie Spiridinoff--and be thankful you are here rather -than There." - -Mikhail shuddered. - -Anon, every soul in the room was awakened by the uproarious entrance of -the great Luigi Rivoli supported by Messieurs Malvin, Borges and Bauer, -all very drunk and roaring "_Brigadier vous avez raison_," a song which -tailed off into an inane repetition of-- - - "Si le Caporal savait ca - Il dirait 'nom de Dieu,'" - -in the midst of which the great man collapsed upon his bed, while, with -much hiccupping laughter and foul jokes, his faithful satellites -contrived to remove his boots and leave him to sleep the sleep of the -just and the drunken.... - -Anon the Dutch youth, Hans Djoolte, sat up and looked around. All was -quiet and apparently everyone was asleep. The conscience of Hans was -pricking him--he had said his prayers lying in bed, and that was not the -way in which he had been taught to say them by his good Dutch mother, -whose very last words, as she died, had been, "Say your prayers each -night, my son, wherever you may be." - -Hans got out of bed, knelt him down, and said his prayers again. -Thenceforward, he always did so as soon as he had undressed, regardless -of consequences--which at first were serious. But even the good Luigi -Rivoli, in time, grew tired of beating him, particularly when the four -English-speaking occupants of the _chambree_ intimated their united -disapproval of Luigi's interference. The most startling novelty, by -repetition, becomes the most familiar commonplace, and the day, or -rather the night, arrived when Hans Djoolte could pray unmolested.... -Occupants of less favoured _chambrees_ came to see the sight. The -_escouade_ indeed became rather proud of having two authentic -lunatics.... - - - - - CHAPTER V - - THE TRIVIAL ROUND - - -As he had done almost every night for the last twenty-five years, Sir -Montague Merline lay awake for some time, thinking of his wife. - -Was she happy? Of course she was. Any woman is happy with the man she -really loves. - -Did she ever think of him? Of course she did. Any woman thinks, at -times, of the man in whose arms she has lain. No doubt his photo stood -in a silver frame on her desk or piano. Huntingten would not mind that. -Nothing petty about Lord Huntingten--and he had been very fond of "good -old Merline," "dear old stick-in-the-mud," as he had so often called -him. - -Of course she was happy. Why shouldn't she be? Although Huntingten was -poor as English peers go, there was enough for decent quiet comfort--and -Marguerite had never been keen on making a splash. She had not minded -poverty as Lady Merline.... She was certainly as happy as the day was -long, and it would have been the damnedest cruelty and caddishness to -have turned up and spoilt things. It would have wrecked her life and -Huntingten's too.... - -Splendid chap, Huntingten--so jolly clever and original, so full of -ideas and unconventionality.... "How to be Happy though Titled." ... -"How to be a Man though a Peer." ... "Efforts for the Effete," and Sir -Montague smiled as he thought of the eccentric peer's pleasantries. - -Yes, she'd be happy enough with that fine brave big sportsman with his -sunny face and merry laugh, his gentle and kindly ways, his love of -open-air life, games, sport, and all clean strenuous things. Of course -she was happy.... Did she ever think of him? ... Were there any more -children? ... (And, as always, at this point, Sir Montague frowned and -sighed.) - -How he would love a little girl of hers, if she were very, very like -her--and how he would hate a boy if he were like Huntingten. No--not -hate the boy--hate the idea of her having a boy who was like Huntingten. -But how she would love the boy.... - -What would he not give to see her! Unseen himself, of course. He hoped -he would not get _cafard_ again, when next stationed in the desert. It -had been terrible, unspeakably terrible, to feel that resolution was -weakening, and that when it failed altogether, he would desert and go in -search of her.... Suppose that, with madman's cunning, and with -madman's strength, he should be successful in an attempt to reach -Tunis--the only possible way for a deserter without money--and should -live to reach her, or to be recognised and proclaimed as the lost Sir -Montague Merline. Her life in ruins and her children -illegitimate--nameless bastards.... It was a horribly disturbing -thought, that under the influence of _cafard_ his mind might lose all -ideas and memories and wishes except the one great longing to see her -again, to clasp her in his arms again, to have and to hold.... Well--he -had a lot to be thankful for. So long as Cyrus Hiram Milton was his -bunk-mate it was not likely to happen. Cyrus would see that he did not -desert, penniless and mad, into the desert. And now this English boy -had come--a man with the same training, tastes, habits, haunts and -_cliches_ as himself. Doubtless they had numbers of common -acquaintances. But he must be wary when on that ground. Possibly the -boy knew Lord and Lady Huntingten.... After all it's a very small -world, and especially the world of English Society, clubs, Services, and -sport.... This boy would be a real _companion_, such as dear old Cyrus -could never be, best of friends as he was. He would make a hobby of the -boy, look after him, live his happy past again in talking of London, -Sandhurst, Paris, racing, golf, theatres, clubs, and all the lost things -whose memories they had in common. The boy might perhaps have been at -Winchester too.... Thank Heaven he had come! It would make all the -difference when _cafard_ conditions arose again. Of course he'd get -promoted _Soldat premiere classe_ before long though, and then -_Caporal_. Corporals may not walk and talk with private soldiers. -Yes--the boy would rise and leave him behind. Just his luck.... Might -he not venture to accept promotion now--after all these years, and rise -step by step with him? No, better not. Thin end of the wedge. Once he -allowed himself to be _Soldat premiere classe_ he'd be accepting -promotion to _Caporal_ and _Sergent_ before he knew it. The temptation -to go on to _Chef_ and _Adjudant_ would be overwhelming, and when -offered a commission (and the return to the life of an officer and -gentleman) would be utterly irresistible. Then would come the very -thing to prevent which he had buried himself alive in this hell of a -Legion--recognition and then the public scandal of his wife's innocent -bigamy, and her children's illegitimacy. As an officer he would meet -foreign officers and visitors to Algeria. His portrait might get into -the papers. He might have to go to Paris, or Marseilles, and run risks -of being recognised. No--better to put away temptation and take no -chance of the evil thing. Poor little Marguerite! Think of the cruel -shattering blow to her. It would kill her to give up Huntingten in -addition to knowing her children to be nameless, unable to inherit title -or estates.... No--unthinkable! Do the thing properly or not at -all.... But it was hell to be a second-class soldier all the time, and -never be exempt from liability to sentry-duty, guards, fatigues, filthy -corvees and punishment at the hands of Non-coms. seeking to acquire -merit by discovering demerit.... And he could have had a commission -straight away, when he got his bit of _ferblanterie_[#] in Tonkin and -again in Dahomey. They knew he could speak German and had been an -officer.... It had been a sore temptation--but, thank God, he had -conquered it and not run the greatly enhanced risk of discovery. He -ought really to have committed suicide directly he learned that she was -married. No business to be alive--let alone grumbling about promotion. -Moreover, if any living soul on this earth discovered that he was alive -he must not only die, but let his wife have proof that he really was -dead, this time. Then she and Huntingten could re-marry as the first -ceremony was null and void, and the children be legitimatised.... Of -course there would be more children--they loved each other so.... - - -[#] lit., tin-ware (medals and decorations). - - -As things were, his being alive did the Huntingtens no harm. It was the -_knowledge_ of his existence that would do the injury--both legal and -personal.... No harm, so long as it wasn't known. They were quite -innocent in the sight of le bon Dieu, and so long as neither they, nor -anyone else, knew--nothing mattered so far as they were concerned.... - -But fourteen years as a second-class soldier of the Legion! ... And what -was he to do at the end of the fifteenth? They would not re-enlist him. -He would get a pension of five hundred francs a year--twenty pounds a -year--and he had got the cash "bonus" given him when he won the -_medaille militaire_. Where could he hide again? Perhaps he could get -a job as employed-pensioner of the Legion--such as sexton at the -graveyard or assistant-cook, or Officers'-Mess servant? ... Otherwise -he'd find himself one fine morning at the barracks-gates, dressed in a -suit of blue sacking from the Quartermaster's store, fitting him where -it touched him; a big flat tam-o'-shanter sort of cap; a rough shirt, -and a blue cravat "to wind twice round the neck"; a pair of socks (for -the first time in fifteen years), and a decent pair of boots. He'd have -his papers, a free pass to any part of France he liked to name, a franc -a day for the journey thereto, and his week's pay. - -And what good would the papers and pass be to him--who dared not leave -the shelter of the all-concealing Legion? ... Surely it would be safe -for him to return to England, or at any rate to go to France or some -other part of Europe? Why not to America or the Colonies? No, nowhere -was safe, and nothing was certain. Besides, how was he to get there? -His pass would take him to any part of France, and nowhere else. A fine -thing--to hide in the Legion for fifteen years, actually to survive -fifteen years of a second-class soldier's life in the Legion, and then -to risk rendering it all useless! One breath of rumour--and -Marguerite's life was spoilt.... Discovery--and it was ruined, just -when her children (if she had any more) were on the threshold of their -careers.... Well, life in the Legion was remarkably uncertain, and there -still remained a year in which all problems might be finally solved by -bullet, disease, or death in some other of the many forms in which it -visited the step-sons of France.... Where was old Strong now? ... - -Legionary John Bull fell asleep. - -Meanwhile, a few inches from him, Reginald Rupert had found himself -unusually and unpleasantly wakeful. It had been a remarkably full and -tiring day, and as crowded with new experiences as the keenest -experience-seeker could desire.... He was very glad he had come. This -was going to be a good toughening man's life, and real soldiering. He -would not have missed it for anything. It would hold a worthy place in -the list of things which he had done and been, the list that, by the end -of his life, he hoped would be a long and very varied one. By the time -"the governor" died (and he trusted that might not happen for another -forty years) he hoped to have been in many armies and Frontier Police -forces, to have been a sailor, a cowboy, a big-game hunter, a trapper, -an explorer and prospector, a gold-miner, a war correspondent, a -gumdigger, and many other things in many parts of the world, in addition -to his present record of Public-school, Sandhurst, 'Varsity man, British -officer, trooper, and French Legionnaire. He hoped to continue to turn -up in any part of the world where there was a war. - -What Reginald, like his father, loathed and feared was Modern Society -life, and in fact all modern civilised life as it had presented itself -to his eyes--with its incredibly false standards, values and ideals, its -shoddy shams and vulgar pretences, its fat indulgences, slothfulness and -folly. - -To him, as to his father (whose curious mental kink he had inherited), -the world seemed a dreadful place in which drab, dull folk followed -drab, dull pursuits for drab, dull ends. People who lived for pleasure -were so occupied and exhausted in its pursuit that they got no pleasure. -People who worked were so closely occupied in earning their living that -they never lived. He did not know which class he disliked more--the men -who lived their weary lives at clubs, grand-stands, country-house -parties, Ranelagh and Hurlingham, the Riviera, the moors, and the Yacht -Squadron; or those who lived dull laborious days in offices, growing -flabby and grey in pursuit of the slippery shekel. - -The human animal seemed to him to have become as adventurous, gallant, -picturesque and gay as the mole, the toad, and the slug. An old tomcat -on a backyard fence seemed to him to be a more independent, care-free, -self-respecting and gentlemanly person than his owner, a man who, all -God's wide world before him, was, for a few monthly metal discs, content -to sit in a stuffy hole and copy hieroglyphics from nine till six--that -another man might the quicker amass many dirty metal discs and a double -chin. To Reginald, the men of even his own class seemed travesties and -parodies of a noble original, in that they were content to lead the -dreadful lives they did--killing tame birds, knocking little balls about -the place, watching other people ride races, rushing around in motors, -sailing sunny seas in luxury and safety, seeing foreign lands only from -their best hotels, poodle-faking and philandering, doing everything but -anything--pampered, soft, useless; each a most exact and careful copy of -his neighbour. Reginald loved, and excelled at, every form of sport, -and had been prominent in the playing-fields at Winchester, Sandhurst -and Oxford, but he could not live by sport alone, and to him it had -always been a means and not an end, a means to health, strength, skill -and hardihood--the which were to be applied--not to _more_ games--but to -the fuller living of life. The seeds of his father's teaching had -fallen on most receptive and fertile soil, and their fruit ripened not -the slower by reason of the fact that his father was his friend, -confidant, hero and model.... He could see him now as he straddled -mightily on the rug before the library fire, in his pink and cords, his -spurred tops splashed with mud, and grey on the inner sides with the -sweat of his horse.... - -"Brown-paper prisons for poor men, and pink-silk cages for rich--that's -Life nowadays, my boy, unless you're careful.... Get hold of Life, -don't let Life get hold of you. Take the family motto for your guidance -in actual fact. '_Be all, see all_.' Try to carry it out as far as -humanly possible. _Live_ Life and live it in the World. Don't live a -thousandth part of Life in a millionth part of the World, as all our -neighbours do. When you succeed me here and marry and settle down, be -able to say you've seen everything, done everything, been everything.... -Be a gentleman, of course, but one can be a man as well as being a -gentleman--gentility is of the heart and conduct and manners--not of -position and wealth and rank. What's the good of seeing one little -glimpse of life out of one little window--whether it's a soldier's -window (which is the best of windows), or a sailor's, or a lawyer's, -parson's, merchant's, scholar's, sportsman's, landowner's, politician's, -or any other.... And go upwards and downwards too, my boy. Tramps, -ostlers, costermongers and soldiers are a dam' sight more interestin' -than kings--and a heap more human. A chap who's only moved in one plane -of society isn't educated--not worth listening to..." and much more to -the same effect--and Rupert smiled to himself as he thought of how his -father had advised him not to "waste" more than a year at Sandhurst, -another at Oxford, and another in an Officers' Mess, before setting -forth to see real life, and real men living it hard and to the full, in -the capitals and the corners of the earth. - -"How the dear old boy must have worshipped mother--to have married and -settled down, at forty," he reflected, "and what a beauty she must have -been. She's lovely now," and again his rather hard face softened into a -smile as he thought of the interview in which he told her of his -intention to "chuck" his commission and go and do things and see things. -Little had he known that she had fully anticipated and daily expected -the declaration which he feared would be a "terrible blow" to her.... -Did she expect him to be anything else than the son of his father and -his eccentric and adventurous House? - -"I wouldn't have you be anything but a chip of the old block, my darling -boy. You're of age and your old mother isn't going to be a millstone -round your neck, like she's been round your father's. Only one woman -can have the right to be that, and you will give her the right when you -marry her.... Your family really ought not to marry." - -"Mother, Mother!" he had protested, "and 'bring up our children to do -the same,' I suppose?" - -She had been bravely gay when he went, albeit a little damp of eye and -red of nose.... Really he was a lucky chap to have such a mother. She -was one in a thousand and he must faithfully do his utmost to keep his -promise and go home once a year or thereabouts--also "to take care of -his nails, not crop his hair, change damp socks, and wear wool next his -skin...." Want a bit of doin' in the Legion, what! Good job the poor -darling couldn't see Luigi Rivoli breaking up recruits, or Sergeant -Legros superintending the ablutions of her Reginald. What would she -think of this galley and his fellow galley-slaves--of 'Erb, the -_Apache_, Carmelita, the Grasshopper, and the drunkards of the Canteen? -The Bucking Bronco would amuse her, and she'd certainly be interested in -John Bull, poor old chap.... What could his story be, and why was he -here? Was there a woman in it? ... Probably. He didn't look the sort -of chap who'd "done something." Poor devil! ... Yes, her big warm heart -would certainly have a corner for John Bull. Had she not been well -brought up by her husband and son in the matter of seeing a swan in -every goose they brought home? Yes, he'd repay John Bull's kindness to -the full when he left the Legion. He should come straight to Elham Old -Hall and his mother should have the chance, which she would love, of -thanking and, in some measure, repaying the good chap. He wouldn't tell -him exactly who they were and what they were, lest he should pretend -that fifteen years of Legion life had spoilt him for _la vie de -chateau_, and refuse to visit them.... He'd like to know his story. -What _could_ be the cause of a man like him leading this ha'penny-a-day -life for fourteen years? Talk of paper prisons and silken cages--this -was a prison of red-hot stone. Fancy this the setting for the best -years of your life, and he sat up and looked round the moonlit room. - -Next to him lay the Bucking Bronco, snoring heavily, his moustache -looking huge and black in the moonlight that made his face appear pale -and fine.... A strong and not unkindly face, with its great jutting chin -and square heavy jaw. - -'Erb lay on the neighbouring cot, his hands clasped above his head as he -slept the sleep of the just and innocent, for whom a night of peaceful -slumber is the meet reward of a well-spent day. His pinched and cunning -little face was transfigured by the moonlight, and the sleeping Herbert -Higgins looked less the vulgar, street-bred guttersnipe than did the -waking "'Erbiggins" of the day. - -Beyond him lay the mighty bulk of Luigi Rivoli, breathing stertorously -in drunken slumber as he sprawled, limb-scattered, on his face, fully -dressed, save for his boots.... - -What an utter swine and cad--reflected Reginald--and what would happen -when he selected him for his attentions? Of course, the Neapolitan had -ten times his strength and twice his weight--but there would have to be -a fight--or a moral victory for the recruit. He would obey no behests of -Luigi Rivoli, nor accept any insults nor injuries tamely. He would land -the cad one of the best, and take the consequences, however humiliating -or painful. And he'd do it every time too, until he were finally -incapacitated, or Luigi Rivoli weary of the game. Evidently the brute -had some sort of respect for the big American and for John Bull. He -should learn to have some for "Reginald Rupert," too, or the latter -would die in the attempt to teach it. The prospect was not alluring -though, and the Austrian and the _Apache_ had received sharp and painful -lessons on the folly of defying or attacking Luigi Rivoli. -Still--experiences, dangers, difficulties and real, raw, primitive life -were what his family sought--and here were some of them. Yes, he was -ready for Il Signor Luigi Rivoli.... - -In the next bed lay the Russian, Mikhail. Queer, shy chap. What a -voice, and what a complexion for a recruit of the Foreign Legion! How -extraordinarily alike he and his brother were, and yet there was a great -difference between their respective voices and facial expressions.... -Another queer story there. They looked like students.... Probably -involved in some silly Nihilist games and had to bolt for their lives -from the Russian police or from Nihilist confederates, or both. It was -nice to see how the manlier brother looked after the other. He seemed -to be in a perpetual state of concern and anxiety about him. - -Beyond the Russian recruit lay the mad Legionary known as the -Grasshopper. What a pathetic creature--an ex-officer of one of the most -aristocratic corps in Europe. In fact he must be a nobleman or he could -not have been in the Guides. Must be of an ancient family moreover. -Besides, he was so very obviously of _ceux qui ont pris la peine de -naitre_. What could his story be? Fancy the man being a really -first-class soldier on parade, manoeuvres, march, or battlefield, and an -obvious lunatic at the same time.... Poor devil!... - -Next to him was the other Russian, and then Edouard Malvin, the -nasty-looking cad who appeared to be Rivoli's chief toady. His -neighbour was the fat and dull-looking Dutch lad (who was to display -such unusual and enviable moral courage).... - -Footsteps resounded without, and the Room-Corporal entered with a -clatter. Turning down his blanket, as though expecting to find -something beneath it, he disclosed some bottles, a few packets of -tobacco and cigarettes, and a little heap of coins. - -"Bonheur de Dieu vrai!" he ejaculated. "'Y'a de bon!" and examined the -packets for any indication of their orientation. "'Les deux Russes,'" -he read, and broke into a guinguette song. Monsieur le Caporal loved -wine and was _un ramasseur de sous_. These Russians were really worthy -and sensible recruits, and, though they should escape none of their -duties, they should be regarded with a tolerant and non-malicious eye by -Monsieur le Caporal. No undue share of corvees should be theirs.... No -harm in their complimenting their good Caporal and winning his -approval--but, on the other hand, no bribery and corruption. Mais -non--c'est tout autre chose! - -As the Corporal disrobed, the Grasshopper rose from his cot, crouched, -and hopped towards him. - -The Corporal evinced no surprise. - -"Monsieur le Caporal," quoth the Grasshopper. "How can a Cigale steer a -gunboat? ... I ask you.... How can I possibly dip the ensign from peak -to taffrail, cat the anchor or shoot the sun, by the pale glimmer of the -binnacle light? ... And I have, for cargo, the Cestus of Aphrodite...." - -"And _I_ have, for cargo, seven bottles of good red wine--beneath my -Cestus of Corporal--so I can't tell you, Grasshopper," was the reply.... -"Va t'en! ... You go and ask Monsieur le bon Diable--and tell him his -old _ami_ Caporal Achille Martel sent you.... Go on--_allez schteb' -los_--and let me sleep...." - -The Grasshopper hopped to the door and out into the corridor.... - -Rupert fell asleep.... - -As John Bull had prophesied, he was awakened by yells of "_Au jus! Au -jus! Au jus!_" from the garde-chambre, the room-orderly on duty, as he -went from cot to cot with a huge jug. - -Each sleepy soul roused himself sufficiently to hold out the tin mug -which hung at the head of his bed, and to receive a half-pint or so of -the "gravy"--which proved to be really excellent coffee. For his own -part, Rupert would have been glad of the addition of a little milk and -sugar, but he had swallowed too much milkless and sugarless tea (from a -basin) in the British Army, to be concerned about such a trifle.... - -"Good morning. Put on the white trousers and come downstairs with me," -said John Bull, as he also swallowed his coffee. "Be quick, or you -won't get a chance at the lavatory. There's washing accommodation for -six men when sixty want it.... Come on." - -As he hurried from the room, Rupert noticed that Corporal Martel lay -comfortably in bed while the rest hurriedly dressed. From time to time -he mechanically shouted: "Levez-vous, mes enfants...." "Levez-vous, -assassins...." "Levez-vous, scelerats...." - -After each of his shouts came, in antistrophe, the anxious yell of the -garde-chambre (who had to sweep the room before parade) of "Balayez -au-dessous vos lits!" - -Returning from his hasty and primitive wash, Rupert noticed that the -Austrian recruit was lacing Rivoli's boots, while the _Apache_, -grimacing horribly behind his back, brushed the Neapolitan down, Malvin -superintending their labours. - -"Shove on the white tunic and blue sash," said John Bull to his -protege--"and you'll want knapsack, cartridge-belt, bayonet and -rifle.... Bye-bye! I must be off. You'll have recruit-drills separate -from us for some time.... See you later...." - - - Sec.3 - -Legionnaire Reginald Rupert soon found that French drill methods of -training differed but little from English, though perhaps more thorough -and systematically progressive, and undoubtedly better calculated to -develop initiative. - -It did not take the Corporal-Instructor long to single him out as an -unusually keen and intelligent recruit, and Rupert was himself surprised -at the pleasure he derived from being placed as Number One of the -_escouade_ of recruits, after a few days. His knowledge of French -helped him considerably, of course, and on that first morning he had -obeyed the Corporal's roar of "_Sac a terre_," "_A gauche_," "_A -droit_," "_En avant, marche_," "_Pas gymnastique_," or "_Formez les -faisceaux_," before the majority of the others had translated them. He -also excelled in the eating of the "Breakfast of the Legion," which is -nothing more nor less than a terribly punishing run, in quick time, -round and round the parade-ground. By the time the Corporal called a -halt, Rupert, who was a fine runner, in the pink of condition, was -beginning to feel that he had about shot his bolt, while, with one or -two exceptions, the rest of the squad were in a state of real distress, -gasping, groaning, and coughing, with protruding eyeballs and faces -white, green, or blue. During the brief "cigarette halt," he gazed -round with some amusement at the prostrate forms of his exhausted -comrades. - -The Russian, Feodor, seemed to be in pretty well as good condition as -himself--in striking contrast to Mikhail, whose state was pitiable, as -he knelt doubled up, drawing his breath in terrible gasps, and holding -his side as though suffering agonies from "stitch." - -'Erb was in better case, but he lay panting as though his little chest -would burst. - -"Gawdstrewth, matey," he grunted to M. Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat, "I ain't -run so much since I last see a copper." - -The _Apache_, green-faced and blue-lipped, showed his teeth in a vicious -snarl, by way of reply. Absinthe and black cigarettes are a poor -training-diet. - -The fat Dutch lad, Hans Djoolte, appeared to be in extremis and likely -to disappear in a pool of perspiration. The gnarled-looking Spaniard -drew his breath with noisy whoops, and stout Germans, Alsatians, -Belgians and Frenchmen gave the impression of persons just rescued from -drowning or suffocation by smoke. Having finished his cigarette, the -Corporal ran to the far side of the parade-ground, raised his hand with -a shout, and cried, "_A moi_." - -"Well run, _bleu_," he observed to Rupert, who arrived first. - -Before the "breakfast" half-hour was over, he was thoroughly tired, and -more than a little sorry for some of the others. M. Tou-tou -Boil-the-Cat was violently sick; the plump Dutchman was soaked from head -to foot; many a good, stout Hans, Fritz and Carl wished he had never -been born; and Mikhail Kyrilovitch distinguished himself by falling flat -in a dead faint, to the contemptuous and outspoken disgust of the -Corporal. - -It was indeed a kill-or-cure training, and, in some cases, bade fair to -kill before it cured. One drill-manoeuvre interested Rupert by its -novelty and yet by its suggestion of the old Roman _testudo_. On the -order "_A genoux_," all had to fall on their knees and every man of the -squad, not in the front rank, to thrust his head well under the knapsack -of the man in front of him. Since, under service conditions, knapsacks -would be stuffed with spare uniforms and underclothing, and covered with -tent-canvas, blanket, spare boots, fuel or a cooking-pot, excellent -head-cover was thus provided against shrapnel and shell-fragments, and -from bullets from some of such rifles as are used by the Chinese, -African, Madagascan, and Arab foes of the Legion. Interested or not, it -was with unfeigned thankfulness that, at about eleven o'clock, Rupert -found himself marching back to barracks and heard the "_Rompez_" command -of dismissal outside the _caserne_ of his Company. Hurrying up to the -_chambree_ he put his Lebel in the rack, his knapsack and belts on the -shelf above his bed, and lay down to get that amount of rest without -which he felt he could not face breakfast. - -"Hallo, Rupert! Had a gruelling?" enquired John Bull, entering and -throwing off his accoutrements. "They make you earn your little bit of -corn, don't they? You feel it less day by day though, and soon find you -can do it without turning a hair. Not much chance of a chap with weak -lungs or heart surviving the 'Breakfast of the Legion,' for long. You -see the point of the training when you begin the desert marches." - -"Quite looking forward to it," said Rupert. - -"It's better looking back on it, on the whole," rejoined the other -grimly.... "Feel like breakfast?" he added in French, remembering that -the more his young friend spoke in that tongue the better. - -"Oh, I'm all right. What'll it be?" - -"Well, not _bec-fins_ and _peche Melba_ exactly. Say a mug of -bread-soup, containing potato and vegetables and a scrap of meat. Sort -of Irish stew." - -"_Arlequins_ at two sous the plate, first, for me, please," put in M. -Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat, whose small compact frame seemed to have recovered -its normal elasticity and vigour. - -As he spoke, the voice of a kitchen-orderly was raised below in a -long-drawn howl of "_Soupe! A la Soupe!_" Turning with one accord to -the garde-chambre the Legionaries bawled "_Soupe!_" as one man, and like -an arrow from a bow, the room-orderly sped forth, to return a minute -later bearing the soup-kettle and a basket of loaves of grey bread. Tin -plates and utensils were snatched from the hanging-cupboards, and mugs -from their hooks on the wall and the Legionaries seated themselves on -the benches that ran down either side of the long table. - -"'Fraid you'll have to stand out, Rupert, being a recruit," said John -Bull. "There's only room for twenty at this table." - -"Of course. Thanks," was the reply, and the speaker betook himself to -his bed, and sat him down with his mug and crust. - -With cheerful sociability, 'Erb had already seated himself at table, and -was beating a loud tattoo with mug and plate as he awaited the -administrations of the soup-laden Ganymede. - -Suddenly the expansive and genial smile faded on 'Erb's happy face, as -he felt himself seized by the scruff of his neck and the seat of his -trousers, and raised four feet in the air.... For a second he hovered, -descended a foot and was then shot through the air with appalling -violence to some distant corner of the earth. Fortunately for 'Erb, -that corner contained a bed and he landed fairly on it.... The -Legionary Herbert Higgins in the innocence of his ignorance had occupied -the Seats of the Mighty, had sat him down in the place of Luigi -Rivoli--and Luigi had removed the insect. - -"Gawd love us!" said 'Erb. "'Oo'd a' thought it?" as he realised that -he was still in barracks and had only travelled from the table to a cot, -a distance of some six feet.... - -Mikhail Kyrilovitch lay stretched on his bed, too exhausted to eat. It -interested and rather touched Rupert to see how tenderly the other -Russian half raised him from the bed, coaxed him with soup and, failing, -produced a bottle of wine from behind the _paquetage_ on his shelf, and -induced him to drink a little.... - -"Potato fatigue after this, Rupert," said John Bull as he came over to -the recruit, and offered him a cigarette. "Ghastly stuff you'll find -this black Algerian tobacco, but one gets used to it. It's funny, but -when I get a taste of any of the tobaccos from Home, I find my palate so -ruined that I don't enjoy it. Seems acrid and strong though it's -infinitely milder...." - -The Kitchen-Corporal thrust his head in at the door of the _chambree_, -roared "_Aux palates_" and vanished. Trooping down to the kitchen, the -whole Company stood in a ring and solemnly peeled potatoes. Here, at -any rate, Mikhail Kyrilovitch distinguished himself among the recruits, -for not only was his the first potato to fall peeled into the bucket, -but his peel was the thinnest, his output the greatest. Standing next -to him, Rupert noticed how tiny were his hands and wrists, and how -delicate his nails. - -"Apparently this is part of regular routine and not a corvee," he -remarked. - -"Mais oui, Monsieur," replied Mikhail primly. - -"Great tip to get cunning at dodging extra fatigues when you're a -soldier," continued Rupert. - -"Mais oui, Monsieur," replied Mikhail primly. - -"Expect they'll catch us wretched recruits on that lay until we get -artful." - -"Mais oui, Monsieur," replied Mikhail primly. - -What a funny shy lad he was, with his eternal "Mais oui, Monsieur" ... -Perhaps that was all the French he knew!... - -"Do you think the medical-examination will be very--er--searching, -Monsieur?" asked Mikhail. - -So he did know French after all. What was he trembling about now? - -"Shouldn't think so. Why? You're all right, aren't you? You wouldn't -have passed the doctor when you enlisted, otherwise." - -"Non, Monsieur." - -"Where did you enlist?" - -"At Paris, Monsieur." - -"So did I; Rue St. Dominique. LIttle fat cove in red breeches and a -white tunic. I suppose you had the same chap?" - -"Er--oui, Monsieur." - -"I suppose he overhauled you very thoroughly? ... Wasn't it infernally -cold standing stark naked in that beastly room while he punched you -about?" - -"Oh!--er--oui, Monsieur. Oh, please let us ... Er--wasn't that running -dreadful this morning?" ... - -"I say, Monsieur Rupaire, do you think we shall have the same -'breakfast' every morning?" put in Feodor Kyrilovitch. "It'll be the -death of my brother here, if we do. He never was a runner." - -"'Fraid so, during recruits' course," replied Rupert, and added: "I -noticed a great difference between you and your brother." - -"Oh, it's only just in that respect," was the reply. "I've always been -better winded than he.... Illness when he was a kid.... Lungs not over -strong...." - -Even as he had prophesied, an Orderly-Sergeant swooped down upon them as -the potato-fatigue finished, and, while the old Legionaries somehow -melted into thin air and vanished like the baseless fabric of a vision, -the recruits were captured and commandeered for a barrack-scavenging -corvee which kept them hard at work until it was time to fall in for -"theory." - -This Rupert discovered to be instruction in recognition of badges of -rank, and, later, in every sort and kind of rule and regulation; in -musketry, tactics, training and the principles and theory of drill, -entrenchment, scouting, skirmishing, and every other branch of military -education. - -At two o'clock, drill began again, and lasted until four, at which hour -Monsieur le Medicin-Major held the medical examination, the idea of -which seemed so disturbing to Mikhail Kyrilovitch. It proved to be the -merest formality--a glance, a question, a caution against excess, and -the recruits were passed and certified as _bon pour le service_ at the -rate of twenty to the quarter-hour. They were, moreover, free for the -remainder of the day (provided they escaped all victim-hunting -Non-coms., in search of corvee-parties) with the exception of such hours -as might be necessary for labours of _astiquage_ and the _lavabo_. - -On returning to the _chambree_, Rupert found his friend John Bull -awaiting him. - -"Well, Rupert," he cried cheerily, "what sort of a day have you had? -Tired? We'll get 'soupe' again shortly. I'll take you to the _lavabo_ -afterwards, and show you the ropes. Got to have your white kit, arms -and accoutrements all _klim-bim_, as the Germans say, before you dress -and go out, or else you'll have to do it in the dark." - -"Yes, thanks," replied Rupert. "I'll get straight first. I hate 'spit -and polish' after Lights Out. What'll the next meal be?" - -"Same as this morning--the eternal 'soupe.' The only variety in food is -when dog-biscuit replaces bread.... Nothing to grumble at really, -except the infernal monotony. Quantity is all right--in fact some -fellows save up a lot of bread and biscuit and sell it in the town. -(Eight days _salle de police_ if you're caught.) But sometimes you feel -you could eat anything in the wide world except Legion 'soupe,' bread -and biscuit...." - -After the second and last meal of the day, at about five o'clock, Rupert -was introduced to the _lavabo_ and its ways--particularly its ways in -the matter of disappearing soap and vanishing "washing"--and, his first -essay in laundry-work concluded, returned with Legionary John Bull and -the Bucking Bronco for an hour or two of leather-polishing, -accoutrement-cleaning and "Ironing" without an iron. - -The room began to fill and was soon a scene of more or less silent -industry. On his bed, the great Luigi Rivoli lay magnificently asleep, -while, on neighbouring cots and benches, his weapons, accoutrements, -boots and uniform received the attentions of Messieurs Malvin, Meyer, -Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat, Dimitropoulos, Borges, Bauer, Hirsch, and others, -his henchmen. - -Anon the great man awoke, yawned cavernously, ejaculated "_Dannazione_" -and sat up. One gathered that the condition of his mouth was not all -that it might be, and that his head ached. Even he was not exempt from -the penalties incurred by lesser men, and even he had to recognise the -fact that a next-morning follows an evening-before. Certain denizens of -the _chambree_ felt, and looked, uneasy, but were reassured by the -reflection that there was still a stock of _bleus_ unchastened, and -available for the great man's needs and diversion. Rising, he roared -"_Oho!_", smacked and flexed his muscles according to his evening -ritual, and announced that a recruit might be permitted to fetch him -water. - -Feodor Kyrilovitch unobtrusively changed places with his brother -Mikhail, whose bed was next to that of the bully. - -"Here, dog," roared the Neapolitan, and brought his "quart" down with a -right resounding blow upon the bare head of Feodor. Without a word the -Russian took the mug and hurried to the nearest lavatory. Returning he -handed it respectfully to Rivoli, and pointing into it said in broken -Italian-- - -"There would appear to be a mark on the bottom of the Signor's cup." - -The great man looked--and smiled graciously as he recognised a gold -twenty-franc piece. "A thoroughly intelligent recruit," he added, -turning to Malvin who nodded and smiled drily. It entered the mind of -le bon Legionnaire Malvin that this recruit should also give an -exhibition of his intelligence to le bon Legionnaire Malvin. - -"Where's that fat pig from Olanda who can only whine '_Verstaan nie_' -when he is spoken to?" enquired Rivoli, looking round. "Let me see if I -can 'Verstaan' him how to put my boots on smartly." - -But, fortunately for himself, the Dutch recruit, Hans Djoolte, was not -present. - -"Not there?" thundered the great man, on being informed. "How dare the -fat calf be not there? Let it be known that I desire all the recruits of -this room to be on duty from 'Soupe' till six, or later, in case I -should want them. Let them all parade before me now." - -Some sheepishly grinning, some with looks of alarm, some under strong -protest, all the recruits with one exception, "fell in" at the foot of -the Italian's bed. Some were dismissed as they came up; the two -Russians, as having paid their footing very handsomely; the _Apache_, -and Franz Josef Meyer, as having been properly broken to bit and curb; -the Greek, as a declared admirer and slave; and one or two others who -had already wisely propitiated, or, to their sorrow, encountered less -pleasantly, the uncrowned king of the Seventh Company. The remainder -received tasks, admonitions and warnings, the which were received -variously, but without open defiance. - -"The attitude of le Legionnaire 'Erbiggins was characteristic. -Realising that he had not a ghost of a chance of success against a man -of twice his weight and thrice his strength, he took the leggings which -were given him to clean and returned a stream of nervous English, of -which the pungent insults and vile language accorded but ill with the -bland innocence of his face, and the deferential acquiescence of his -manner. - -"Ain't yew goin' ter jine the merry throng?" asked the Bucking Bronco of -Reginald Rupert, upon hearing that recruit reply to Malvin's order to -join the line, with a recommendation that Malvin should go to the devil. - -"I am not," replied Rupert. - -"Wal, I guess we'll back yew up, sonny," said the American with an -approving smile. - -"I shall be glad if you will in no way interfere," returned the -Englishman. - -"Gee-whillikins!" commented the Bucking Bronco. - -John Bull looked anxious. "He's the strongest man I have ever seen," he -remarked, "besides being a professional wrestler and acrobat." - -Malvin again approached, grinning maliciously. - -"Il Signor Luigi Rivoli would be sorry to have to come and fetch you, -English pig," said he. "Sorry for you, that is. Do you wish to find -yourself _au grabat_,[#] you scurvy, mangy, lousy cur of a recruit? ... -What reply shall I take Il Signor Luigi Rivoli?" - - -[#] On a sick bed. - - -"_That!_" replied the Englishman, and therewith smote the fat Austrian a -most tremendous smack across his heavy blue jowl with the open hand, -sending him staggering several yards. Without paying further attention -to the great man's ambassador, he strode in the direction of the great -man himself, with blazing eyes and clenched jaw. - -"You want me, do you?" he shouted at the astonished Luigi, who was -rising open-mouthed from his bed; and, putting the whole weight of his -body behind the blow, drove most skilfully and scientifically straight -at the point of his jaw. - -It must be confessed that the Italian was taken unawares, and in the -very act of getting up, so that his hands were down, and he was neither -standing nor sitting. - -He was down and out, and lay across his bed stunned and motionless. - -Into the perfect silence of the _chambree_ fell the voice of the Bucking -Bronco. Solemnly he counted from one to ten, and then with a shout of -"OUT!" threw his kepi to the roof and roared "_Hurrah!_" repeatedly. - -"Il ira loin," remarked Monsieur Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat, viewing Rupert's -handiwork with experienced, professional eye. - -Exclamatory oaths went up in all the languages of Europe. - -"Il a fait de bon boulet," remarked a grinning greybeard known as -"Tant-de-Soif" to the astounded and almost awe-stricken crowd. - -But le Legionnaire Jean Boule looked ahead. - -"You've made two bad enemies, my boy, I'm afraid.... What about when he -comes round?" - -"I'll give him some more, if I can," replied Rupert. "Don't interfere, -anyhow." - -"Shake, sonny," said the Bucking Bronco solemnly. "An' look at hyar. -Let's interfere, to the extent o' makin' thet cunning coyote fight down -in the squar'.... Yew won't hev no chance--so don't opine yew will--but -yew'll hev' more chance than yew will right hyar.... Yew want space -when you roughhouses with Loojey. Once he gits a holt on yew--yure -monica's up. Savvy?" - -"Thanks," replied the Englishman. "Right-ho! If he won't fight -downstairs, tell him he can take the three of us." - -"Fower, matey. Us fower Henglishmen agin' 'im an' 'is 'ole bleedin' -gang," put in 'Erb. "'E's a bloke as wants takin' dahn a peg.... Too -free wiv' hisself.... Chucks 'is weight abaht too much.... An' I'll -tell yer wot, Cocky. Keep a heye on that cove as you giv' a smack in -the chops." - -"Sure thing," agreed the Bucking Bronco, and turned to the Belgian who -stood ruefully holding his face and looking as venomous as a -broken-backed cobra, added: "Yew look at hyar, Mounseer Malvin, my lad. -Don't yew git handlin' yure Rosalie[#] any dark night. Yew try ter -_zigouiller_[#] my pal Rupert, an' I'll draw yure innards up through -yure mouth till yew look like half a pound of dumplin' on the end of -half a yard of macaroni. Twiggez vous? _Je tirerai vos gueutes a -travers votre bouche jusqu'a vous resemblez un demi-livre de ponding au -bout d'un demi-yard de macaroni_.... Got it? ..." - - -[#] Bayonet. - -[#] To bayonet. - - -Rivoli twitched, stirred, and groaned. It was interesting to note that -none of his clients and henchmen offered any assistance. The sceptre of -the great man swayed in his hand. Were he beaten, those whom he ruled -by fear, rather than by bribery, would fall upon him like a pack of -wolves. The hands of Monsieur Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat twitched and he -licked his lips. - -"_Je m'en souviendrai_," he murmured. - -Rivoli sat up. - -"Donna e Madonna!" he said. "Corpo di Bacco!" and gazed around. "What -has happened?..." and then he remembered. "A minute," he said. "Wait -but a minute--and then bring him to me." - -Obedience and acquiescence awoke in the bosoms of his supporters. The -great Luigi was alive and on his throne again. The Greek passed him a -mug of water. - -"Yes, wait but a moment, and then just hand him to me.... One of you -might go over to the hospital and say a bed will be wanted shortly," he -added. "And another of you might look up old Jules Latour down at the -cemetery and tell him to start another grave." - -"You're coming to me, for a change, Rivoli," cut in Rupert -contemptuously. "You're going to fight me down below. There's going to -be a ring, and fair play. Will you come now, or will you wait till -to-morrow? I can wait if you feel shaken." - -"Plug the ugly skunk while he's rattled, Bub," advised the American, and -turning to the Italian added, "Sure thing, Loojey. Ef yew ain't hed -enuff yew kin tote downstairs and hev' a five-bunch frame-up with the -b'y. Ef yew start rough-housin' up hyar, I'll take a hand too. I would -anyhaow, only the b'y wants yew all to himself.... Greedy young punk." - -"I will kill him and eat him _now_," said the Italian rising -magnificently. Apparently his splendid constitution and physique had -triumphed completely, and it was as though the blow had not been struck. - -"Come on, b'ys," yelped the American, "an' ef thet Dago don't fight as -square as he knows haow, I'll pull his lower jaw off his face." - -In a moment the room was empty, except for Mikhail Kyrilovitch, who sat -on the edge of his brother's bed and shuddered. - -Clattering down the stairs and gathering numbers as it went, the party -made for the broad space, or passage, between high walls near the back -entrance of the Company's _caserne_, a safe and secluded spot for -fights. As they went along, John Bull gave good advice to his young -friend. - -"Remember he's a wrestler and a savate man," he said, "and that public -opinion here recognises the use of both in a fight--so you can expect -him to clinch and kick as well as butt." - -"Right-o!" said Rupert. - -A large ring was formed by the rapidly growing crowd of spectators, a -ring, into the middle of which the Bucking Bronco stepped to declare -that he would rearrange the features, as well as the ideas, of any -supporter of Luigi Rivoli who in any way interfered with the fight. - -The two combatants stripped to the waist and faced each other. It was a -pleasant surprise to John Bull to notice that his friend looked bigger -"peeled," than he did when dressed. (It is a good test of muscular -development.) Obviously the youth was in the pink of condition and had -systematically developed his muscles. But for the presence of Rivoli, -the arms and torso of the Englishman would have evoked admiring -comments. As it was, the gigantic figure of the Italian dwarfed him, -for he looked what he was--a professional Strong Man whose -stock-in-trade was his enormous muscles and their mighty strength.... -It was not so much a contrast between David and Goliath as between -Apollo and Hercules. - -The Italian assumed his favourite wrestling attitude with open hands -advanced; the Englishman, the position of boxing. - -The two faced each other amidst the perfect silence of the large throng. - -As, to the credit of human nature, is always the case, the sentiment of -the crowd was in favour of the weaker party. No one supposed for a -moment that the recruit would win, but he was a "dark horse," and -English--of a nation proverbially dogged and addicted to _la boxe_.... -He might perhaps be merely maimed and not killed.... For a full minute -the antagonists hung motionless, eyeing each other warily. Suddenly the -Italian swiftly advanced his left foot and made a lightning grab with -his left hand at the Englishman's neck. The latter ducked; the great -arm swung, harmless, above his head, and two sharp smacks rang out like -pistol-shots as the Englishman planted a left and right with terrific -force upon the Italian's ribs. Rivoli's gasp was almost as audible as -the blows. He sprang back, breathing heavily. - -John Bull moistened his Lips and thanked God. Rupert circled round his -opponent, sparring for an opening. Slowly ... slowly ... almost -imperceptibly, the Italian's head and shoulders bent further and further -back. What the devil was he doing?--wondered the Englishman--getting -his head out of danger? Certainly his jaw was handsomely swollen.... -Anyhow he was exposing his mark, the spot where the ribs divide. If he -could get a "right" in there, with all his weight and strength, Il -Signor Luigi Rivoli would have to look to himself in the ensuing -seconds. Rupert made a spring. As he did so, the Italian's body turned -sideways and leant over until almost parallel with the ground, as his -right knee drew up to his chest and his right foot shot out with the -force of a horse's kick. It caught the advancing Englishman squarely on -the mouth, and sent him flying head over heels like a shot rabbit. The -Italian darted forward--and so did the Bucking Bronco. - -"Assez!" he shouted. "Let him get up." At this point his Legion French -failed him, and he added in his own vernacular, "Ef yew think yu're -gwine ter kick him while he's down, yew've got another think comin', -Loojey Rivoli," and barred his path. - -John Bull raised Rupert's head on to his knee. He was senseless and -bleeding from mouth and nose. - -Pushing his way through the ring, came 'Erb, a mug of water in one hand, -a towel in the other. Filling his mouth with water, he ejected a fine -spray over Rupert's face and chest, and then, taking the towel by two -corners of a long side, flapped it mightily over the prostrate man. - -The latter opened his eyes, sat up, and spat out a tooth. - -"Damned kicking cad," he remarked, on collecting his scattered wits and -faculties. - -"No Queensberry rules here, old chap," said John Bull. - -"You do the sime fer 'im, matey. Kick 'is bleedin' faice in.... W'y -carn't 'e fight like a man, the dirty furriner?" and turning from his -ministrations to where the great Luigi received the congratulations of -his admiring supporters, he bawled with the full strength of his lungs: -"Yah! you dirty furriner!" and crowned the taunt by putting his fingers -to his nose and emitting a bellowing _Boo-oo-oo!_ of incredibly -bull-like realism. "If I wasn't yer second, matey, I'd go an' kick 'im -in the stummick naow, I would," he muttered, resuming his labour of -love. - -Rupert struggled to his feet. - -"Give me the mug," he said to 'Erb, and washed out his mouth. "How long -'time' is observed on these occasions?" he asked of John Bull. - -"Oh, nothing's regular," was the reply. "'Rounds' end when you fall -apart, and 'time' ends when both are ready.... You aren't going for him -again, are you?" - -"I'm going for him as long as I can stand and see," was the answer. -'Erb patted him on the back. - -"Blimey! You're a White Man, matey," he commended. "S'welp me, you -are!" - -"Seconds out of the ring," bawled the Bucking Bronco, and -unceremoniously shoved back all who delayed. - -A look of incredulity spread over the face of the Italian. Could it be -possible that the fool did not know that he was utterly beaten and -abolished? ... He tenderly felt his jaw and aching ribs.... - -It was true. The Englishman advanced upon him, the light of battle in -his eyes, and fierce determination expressed in the frown upon his white -face. His mouth bore no expression--it was merely a mess. - -A cheer went up from the spectators. - -A recruit asking for it _twice_, from Luigi Rivoli! - -That famous man, though by no means anxious, was slightly perplexed. -There was something here to which he was not accustomed. It was the -first time in his experience that this had happened. Few men had defied -and faced him once--none had done it twice. This, in itself was bad, -and in the nature of a faint blow to his prestige.... He had tried a -grapple--with unfortunate results; he had tried a kick--most -successfully, and he would try another in a moment. Lest his opponent -should be warily expecting it, he would now administer a battering-ram -butt. He crouched forward, extending his open hands as though to -grapple, and, suddenly ducking his head, flung himself forward, -intending to drive the breath from his enemy's body and seize him by the -throat ere he recovered. - -Lightly and swiftly the Englishman side-stepped and, as he did so, smote -the Italian with all his strength full upon the ear--a blow which caused -that organ to swell hugely, and to "sing" for hours. Rivoli staggered -sideways and fell. The Englishman stood back and waited. Rivoli arose -as quickly as he fell, and, with a roar of rage, charged straight at the -Englishman, who drove straight at his face, left and right, cutting his -knuckles to the bone. Heavy and true as were the blows, they could not -avail to stop that twenty-stone projectile, and, in a second, the -Italian's arms were round him. One mighty hug and heave, and his whole -body, clasped as in a vice to that of the Italian, was bent over -backward in a bow. - -"Thet's torn it," groaned the American, and dashed his kepi upon the -ground. "Fer two damns I'd..." - -John Bull laid a restraining hand upon his arm. - -"Go it, Rupert," bawled 'Erb, dancing in a frenzy of excitement. "Git -'is froat.... Swing up yer knee.... Kick 'im." - -"Shut up," snapped John Bull. "He's not a hooligan...." - -One of Rupert's arms was imprisoned in those of the Italian. True to -his training and standards, he played the game as he had learnt it, and -kept his free right hand from his opponent's throat. With his failing -strength he rained short-arm blows on the Italian's face, until it was -turned sideways and crushed against his neck and shoulder. - -John Bull mistook the bully's action. - -"If you bite his throat, I'll shoot you, Rivoli," he shouted, and -applauding cheers followed the threat. - -The muscles of Rivoli's back and arms tightened and bunched as he -strained with all his strength. Slowly but surely he bent further over, -drawing the Englishman's body closer and closer in his embrace. - -To John Bull, the seconds seemed years. Complete silence reigned. -Rupert's blows weakened and became feeble. They ceased. Rivoli bent -over further. As Rupert's right arm fell to his side, the Italian -seized it from behind. His victim was now absolutely powerless and -motionless. John Bull was reminded of a boa-constrictor which he had -once seen crush a deer. Suddenly the Italian's left arm was withdrawn, -his right arm continuing to imprison Rupert's left while his right hand -retained his grip of the other. Thrusting his left hand beneath the -Englishman's chin he put all his colossal strength into one great -effort--pushing the head back until it seemed that the neck must break, -and at the same time contracting his great right arm and bending himself -almost double. He then raised his opponent and dashed him to the -ground.... - -Reginald Rupert recovered consciousness in the Legion's Hospital. - -A skilful, if somewhat brutal, surgeon soon decided that his back was -not broken but only badly sprained. On leaving hospital, a fortnight -later, he did eight days _salle de police_ by way of convalescence. - -On return to duty, he found himself something of a hero in the Seventh -Company, and decidedly the hero of the recruits of his _chambree_. - -Disregarding the earnest entreaties of John Bull and the reiterated -advice of the Bucking Bronco, and of the almost worshipping 'Erb--he -awaited Luigi Rivoli on the evening after his release and challenged him -to fight. - -The great man burst into explosive laughter--laughter almost too -explosive to be wholly genuine. - -"Fight you, whelp! Fight you, _whelp_!" he scoffed. "_Why_ should I -fight you? Pah! Out of my sight--I have something else to do." - -"Oh have you? Well, don't forget that I have nothing else to do, any -time you feel like fighting. See?" replied the Englishman. - -The Italian again roared with laughter, and Rupert with beating heart -and well-concealed sense of mighty relief, returned to his cot to work. - -It was noticeable that Il Signor Luigi Rivoli invariably had something -else to do, so far as Rupert was concerned, and molested him no more. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - LE CAFARD AND OTHER THINGS - - -For Legionnaire Reginald Rupert the days slipped past with incredible -rapidity, and, at the end of six months, this adaptable and exceedingly -keen young man felt himself to be an old and seasoned Legionary, for -whom the Depot held little more in the way of instruction and -experience. - -His thoughts began to turn to Foreign Service. When would he be able to -volunteer for a draft going to Tonkin, Madagascar, Senegal, or some -other place of scenes and experiences entirely different from those of -Algeria? When would he see some active service--that which he had come -so far to see, and for which he had undergone these hardships and -privations? - -Deeply interested as he was in all things military, and anxious as he -was to learn and become the Compleat Soldier, he found himself beginning -to grow very weary of the trivial round, the common task, of Life in the -Depot. Once he knew his drill as an Infantryman, he began to feel that -the proportion of training and instruction to that of corvee and -fatigues was small. He had not travelled all the way to Algiers to -handle broom and wheelbarrow, and perform non-military labours at a wage -of a halfpenny per day. Of course, one took the rough with the smooth -and shrugged one's shoulders with the inevitable "Que voulez-vous? -C'est la Legion," but, none the less, he had had enough, and more than -enough, of Depot life. - -He sometimes thought of going to the _Adjudant-Major_, offering to -provide proofs that he had been a British officer, and claiming to be -placed in the class of _angehende corporale_ (as he called the _eleves -Caporaux_ or probationary Corporals) with a view to promotion and a -wider and different sphere of action. - -There were reasons against this course, however. It would, very -probably, only result in his being stuck in the Depot permanently, as a -Corporal-Instructor--the more so as he spoke German. Also, it was -neither quite worth while, nor quite playing the game, as he did not -intend to spend more than a year in the Legion and was looking forward -to his attempt at desertion as his first real Great Adventure. - -He had heard horrible stories of the fate of most of those who go "on -pump," as, for no discoverable reason, the Legionary calls desertion. -In every barrack-room there hung unspeakably ghastly photographs of the -mangled bodies of Legionaries who had fallen into the hands of the Arabs -and been tortured by their women. He had himself seen wretched -deserters dragged back by Goums,[#] a mass of rags, filth, blood and -bruises; their manacled hands fastened to the end of a rope attached to -an Arab's saddle. Inasmuch as the captor got twenty-five francs for -returning a deserter, alive or dead, he merely tied the wounded, or -starved and half-dead wretch to the end of a rope and galloped with him -to the nearest outpost or barracks. When the Roumi[#] could no longer -run, he was quite welcome to fall and be dragged. - - -[#] Arab gens d'armes. - -[#] White man. - - -Rupert had also gathered a fairly accurate idea of the conditions of -life--if "life" it can be called--in the Penal Battalions. - -Yes, on the whole, desertion from the Legion would be something in the -nature of an adventure, when one considered the difficulties, risks, and -dangers, which militated against success, and the nature of the -punishment which attended upon failure. No wonder that desertion was -regarded by all and sundry as being a feat of courage, skill and -endurance to which attached no slightest stigma of disgrace! One -gathered that most men "made the promenade" at some time or -other--generally under the influence of _le cafard_ in some terrible -Southern desert-station, and were dealt with more or less leniently -(provided they lost no articles of their kit) in view of the fact that -successful desertion from such places was utterly impossible, and only -attempted by them "while of unsound mind." Only once or twice, in the -whole history of the Legion, had a man got clear away, obtained a camel, -and, by some miracle of luck, courage and endurance, escaped death at -the hands of the Arabs, thirst, hunger, and sunstroke, to reach the -Moroccan border and take service with the Moors--who are the natural and -hereditary enemies of the Touaregs and Bedouins. - -Yes, he had begun to feel that he had certainly come to the end of a -period of instruction and experience, and was in need of change to fresh -fields and pastures new. Vegetating formed no part of his programme of -life, which was far too short, in any case, for all there was to see and -to do.... - -Sitting one night on his cot, and talking to the man for whom he now had -a very genuine and warm affection, he remarked-- - -"Don't you get fed up with Depot life, Bull?" - -"I have been fed up with life, Depot and otherwise, for over twenty -years," was the reply.... "Don't forget that life here in Sidi is a -great deal better than life in a desert station in the South. It is -supportable anyhow; there--it simply isn't; and those who don't desert -and die, go mad and die. The exceptions, who do neither, deteriorate -horribly, and come away very different men.... Make the most of Sidi, -my boy, while you are here, and remember that foreign service, when in -Tonkin, Madagascar, or Western Africa, inevitably means fever and -dysentery, and generally broken health for life.... Moreover, Algeria -is the only part of the French colonial possessions in which the climate -lets one enjoy one's pipe." - -That very night, shortly after the _caserne_ had fallen silent and -still, its inmates wrapped in the heavy sleep of the thoroughly weary, -an alarm-bugle sounded in the barrack-square, and, a minute later, -non-commissioned officers hurried from room to room, bawling, "_Aux -armes! Aux armes! Aux armes!_" at the top of their voices. - -Rupert sat up in his bed, as Corporal Achille Martel began to shout, -"_Levez-vous donc. Levez-vous! Faites le sac! Faites le sac! En tenue -de Campagne d'Afrique_." - -"'Ooray!" shrilled 'Erb. "Oo-bloomin'-ray." - -"Buck up, Rupert," said John Bull. "We've got to be on the -barrack-square in full 'African field equipment' in ten minutes." - -The _chambree_ became the scene of feverish activity, as well as of -delirious excitement and joy. In spite of it being the small hours of -the morning, every man howled or whistled his own favourite song, -without a sign of that liverish grumpiness which generally accompanies -early-morning effort. The great Luigi's slaves worked at double -pressure since they had to equip their lord and master as well as -themselves. Feodor Kyrilovitch appeared to pack his own knapsack with -one hand and that of Mikhail with the other, while he whispered words of -cheer and encouragement. The Dutch boy, Hans Djoolte, having finished -his work, knelt down beside his bed and engaged in prayer. Speculation -was rife as to whether France had declared war on Morocco, or whether -the Arabs were in rebellion, for the hundredth time, and lighting the -torch of destruction all along the Algerian border. - -In ten minutes from the blowing of the alarm-bugle, the Battalion was on -parade in the barrack-square, every man fully equipped and laden like a -beast of burden. One thought filled every mind as the ammunition boxes -were brought from the magazine and prised open. _What would the -cardboard packets contain_? A few seconds after the first packet had -been torn open by the first man to whom one was tossed, the news had -spread throughout the Battalion. - -_Ball-Cartridge!_ - -The Deity in that moment received the heartfelt fervid thanks of almost -every man in the barrack-square, for ball-cartridge meant active -service--in any case, a blessed thing, whatever might result--the -blessing of death, of promotion, of decorations, of wounds and discharge -from the Legion. The blessing of change, to begin with. - -There was one exception however. When Caporal Achille Martel "told off" -Legionnaire Mikhail Kyrilovitch for orderly-duty to the _Adjudant -Vaguemestre_,[#] duty which would keep him behind in barracks, that -Legionary certainly contrived to conceal any disappointment that he may -have felt. - - -[#] The postmaster. - - -A few minutes later the Legion's magnificent band struck up the Legion's -march of "_Tiens, voila du boudin_," and the Battalion swung out of the -gate, past the barracks of the Spahis, through the quiet sleeping -streets into the main road, and so out of the town to which many of them -never returned. - -In the third row of fours of the Seventh Company marched the Bucking -Bronco, John Bull, Reginald Rupert, and Herbert Higgins. In the row in -front of them, Luigi Rivoli, Edouard Malvin, the Grass hopper, and -Feodor Kyrilovitch. In the front row old Tant-de-Soif, Franz Josef -Meyer, Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat, and Hans Djoolte. In front of them marched -the four drummers. At the head of the Company rode Captain -d'Armentieres, beside whom walked Lieutenant Roberte. - -Marching "at ease," the men discussed the probabilities and -possibilities of the expedition. All the signs and tokens to be read by -experienced soldier-eyes, were those of a long march and active service. - -"It'll be a case of 'best foot foremost' a few hours hence, Rupert, I -fancy," remarked John Bull. "I shouldn't be surprised if we put up -thirty miles on end, with no halt but the 'cigarette spaces.'" - -"Sure thing," agreed the Bucking Bronco. "I got a hunch we're gwine ter -throw our feet some, to-day. We wouldn't hev' hiked off like this with -sharp ammunition and made out get-away in quarter of an hour ef little -Johnnie hadn't wanted the doctor. Well, I'm sorry fer the b'ys as ain't -good mushers... Guess we shan't pound our ears[#] before we wants tew, -this trip." - - -[#] Sleep. - - -Marching along the excellent sandy road through the cool of the night, -under a glorious moon, with the blood of youth, and health, and strength -coursing like fire through his veins, it was difficult for Rupert to -realise that, within a few hours, he would be wearily dragging one foot -after the other, his rifle weighing a hundredweight, his pack weighing a -ton, his mouth a lime-kiln, his body one awful ache. He had had some -pretty gruelling marches before, but this was the first time that the -Battalion had gone out on a night alarm with ball-cartridge, and every -indication of it being the "real thing." - -On tramped the Legion. - -Anon there was a whistle, a cry of _Halt!_ and there was a few minutes' -rest. Men lit cigarettes; some sat down; several fumbled at straps and -endeavoured to ease packs by shifting them. Malvin made his master lie -down after removing his pack altogether. It is a pack well worth -removing--that of the Legion--save when seconds are too precious to be -thus spent, and you consider it the wiser plan to fall flat and lie from -the word "_Halt!_" to the word "_Fall in!_" The knapsack of black canvas -is heavy with two full uniforms, underclothing, cleaning materials and -sundries. Weighty tent-canvas and blankets are rolled round it, -tent-supports are fastened at the side, firewood, a cooking-pot, -drinking-mug and spare boots go on top. - -Attached to his belt the Legionary carries a sword-bayonet with a steel -scabbard, four hundred rounds of ammunition in his cartridge-pouches, an -entrenching tool, and his "sac." Add his rifle and water-bottle, and -you have the most heavily laden soldier in the world. He does not carry -his overcoat--he wears it, and is perhaps unique in considering a heavy -overcoat to be correct desert wear. Under his overcoat he has only a -canvas shirt and white linen trousers (when _en tenue de campagne -d'Afrique_), tucked into leather gaiters. Round his waist, his blue -sash--four yards of woollen cloth--acts as an excellent cholera-belt and -body-support. The linen neckcloth, or couvre-nuque, buttoned on to the -white cover of his kepi, protects his neck and ears, and, to some -extent, his face, and prevents sunstroke.... - -The Battalion marched on through the glorious dawn, gaily singing "_Le -sac, ma foi, toujours au dos_," and the old favourite marching songs -"_Brigadier_," "_L'Empereur de Danmark_," "_Pere Bugeaud_," and "_Tiens, -voila du boudin_." Occasionally a German would lift up his splendid -voice and soon more than half the battalion would be singing-- - - "Trinken wir noch ein Troepfchen - Aus dem kleinen Henkeltoepfchen." - -or _Die Wacht am Rhein_ or the pathetic _Morgenlied_. - -At the second halt, when some eight miles had been covered, there were -few signs of fatigue, and more men remained standing than sat down. As -the long column waited by the side of the road, a small cavalcade from -the direction of Sidi-bel-Abbes overtook it. At the head rode a -white-haired, white-moustached officer on whose breast sparkled and -shone that rare and glorious decoration, the Grand Cross of the Legion -of Honour. - -"That's the Commander-in-Chief in Algeria," said John Bull to Rupert. -"That settles it: we're out for business this time, and I fancy you'll -see some Arab-fighting before you are much older.... Feet going to be -all right, do you think?" - -"Fine," replied Rupert. "My boots are half full of tallow, and I've got -a small bottle of bapedi in my sack...." - -On tramped the Legion. - -The day grew hot and packs grew heavy. The Battalion undeniably and -unashamedly slouched. Many men leant heavily forward against their -straps, while some bent almost double, like coal-heavers carrying sacks -of coal. Rifles changed frequently from right hand to left. There was -no singing now. The only sound that came from dry-lipped, sticky mouths -was an occasional bitter curse. Rupert began to wonder if his shoulder -straps had not turned to wires. His arms felt numb, and the heavy -weights, hung about his shoulders and waist, caused a feeling of -constriction about the heart and lungs. He realised that he quite -understood how people felt when they fainted.... - -By the seventh halt, some forty kilometres, or twenty-seven miles lay -behind the Battalion. At the word _Halt!_ every man had thrown himself -at full length on the sand, and very few wasted precious moments of the -inexorably exact five minutes of the rest-period in removing knapsacks. -Hardly a man spoke; none smoked. - -On tramped the Legion. - -Gone was all pretence of smartness and devil-may-care humour--that queer -_macabre_ and bitter humour of the Legion. Men slouched and staggered, -and dragged their feet in utter hopeless weariness. Backs rounded more -and more, heads sank lower, and those who limped almost outnumbered -those who did not. A light push would have sent any man stumbling to -the ground. - -As the whistle blew for the next halt, the Legion sank to the ground -with a groan, as though it would never rise again. As the whistle blew -for the advance the Legion staggered to its feet as one man.... Oh, the -Legion marches! Is not its motto, "_March or Die_"? The latter it may -do, the former it must. The Legion has its orders and its destination, -and it marches. If it did not reach its destination at the appointed -time, it would be because it had died in getting there. - -On tramped the Legion. - -With horrible pains in its blistered shoulders, its raw-rubbed backs, -its protesting, aching legs and blistered heels and toes, the Legion -staggered on, a silent pitiable mass of suffering. Up and down the -entire length of the Battalion rode its Colonel, "the Marching Pig." -Every few yards he bawled with brazen throat and leathern lungs: "March -or die, my children! March or die!" And the Legion clearly understood -that it must march or it must die. To stagger from the ranks and fall -was to die of thirst and starvation, or beneath the _flissa_ of the -Arab. - -Legionary Rupert blessed those "Breakfasts of the Legion" and the hard -training which achieved and maintained the hard condition of the -Legionary. Sick, giddy, and worn-out as he felt, he knew he could keep -going at least as long as the average, and by the time the average man -had reached the uttermost end of his tether, the end of their march must -be reached. After all, though they were Legionaries whose motto was -"March or Die," they were only human beings--and to all human effort and -endeavour there is a limit. He glanced at his comrades. The Bucking -Bronco swung along erect, his rifle held across his shoulder by the -muzzle, and his belt, with all its impedimenta, swinging from his right -hand. He stared straight ahead and, with vacant mind and tireless iron -body, "threw his feet." - -Beside him, John Bull looked very white and worn and old. He leant -heavily against the pull of his straps and marched with his chest bare. -On Rupert's left, 'Erb, having unbuttoned and unbuckled everything -unbuttonable and unbuckleable, slouched along, a picture of slack -unsoldierliness and of dauntless dogged endurance. Suddenly throwing up -his head he screamed from parched lips, "Aw we dahn'earted?" and, having -painfully swallowed, answered his own strident question with a -long-drawn, contemptuous "Ne--a--ow." Captain d'Armentieres, who knew -England and the English, looked round with a smile.... "Bon garcon," he -nodded. - -On the right of the second row of fours marched Luigi Rivoli, in better -case than most, as the bulk of his kit was now impartially distributed -among Malvin, Meyer, Tou-tou and Tant-de-Soif. (The power of money in -the Legion is utterly incredible.) Feodor Kyrilovitch was carrying the -Grasshopper's rifle--and that made a mighty difference toward the end of -a thirty-mile march. - -At the end of the next halt, the Grasshopper declared that he could not -get up.... At the command, "Fall in!" the unfortunate man did not stir. - -"Kind God! What _shall_ I do?" he groaned. It was his first failure as -a soldier. - -"Come on, my lad," said John Bull sharply. "Here, pull off his kit," he -added and unfastened the Belgian's belt. Between them they pulled him -to his feet and dragged him to his place in the ranks. John Bull took -his pack, the Bucking Bronco his belt and its appurtenances, and Feodor -his rifle. His eyes were closed and he sank to the ground. - -"Here," said Rupert to 'Erb. "Get in his place and let him march in -yours beside me. We'll hold him up." - -"Give us yer rifle, matey," replied 'Erb, and left Rupert with hands -free to assist the Grasshopper. - -With his right arm round the Belgian's waist, he helped him along, while -John Bull insisted on having the poor fellow's right hand on his left -shoulder. - -On tramped the Legion. - -Before long, almost the whole weight of the Grasshopper's body was on -Rupert's right arm and John Bull's left shoulder. - -"Stick to it, my son," said the latter from time to time, "we are sure -to stop at the fifty-kilometre stone." - -The Belgian seemed to be semiconscious, and did not reply. His feet -began to drag, and occasionally his two comrades bore his full weight -for a few paces. Every few yards Feodor looked anxiously round. These -four, in their anxiety for their weaker brother, forgot their own raw -thighs, labouring lungs, inflamed eyes, numbed arms and agonising feet. - -Just as the Colonel rode by, the Grasshopper's feet ceased to move, and -dragged lifeless along the ground. - -Rupert stumbled and the three fell in a heap, beneath the Colonel's eye. - -"Sacre Bapteme!" he swore--the oath he only used when a Legionary fell -out on the march--"March or die, accursed pigs." - -Rupert and John Bull staggered to their feet, but the Grasshopper lay -apparently lifeless. The Colonel swore again, and shouted an order. -The Grasshopper was dragged to the side of the road, and a baggage-cart -drove up. A tent-pole was thrust through its sides and tied securely. -To this pole the Belgian was lashed, the pole passing across the upper -part of his back and under his arms, which were pulled over it and tied -together. If he could keep his feet, well and good. If he could not, -he would hang from the pole by his arms (as an athlete hangs from a -parallel-bar in a gymnasium, before revolving round and round it). - -On tramped the Legion. - -Before long, the Grasshopper's feet dragged in the dust as he drooped -inanimate, and then hung in the rope which lashed him to the pole. - -At the fifty-fifth kilometre, thirty-five miles from Sidi-bel-Abbes, the -command to halt was followed by the thrice-blessed God-sent order: - -"_Campez!_" - -Almost before the words, "_Formez les faisceaux_" were out of the -Company-Commanders' mouths, the men had piled arms. Nor was the order -"_Sac a terre_" obeyed in any grudging spirit. In an incredibly short -space of time the jointed tent-poles and canvas had been removed from -the knapsacks. Corporals of sections had stepped forward, holding the -tent-poles above their heads, marking each Company's tent-line, and a -city of small white tents had come into being on the face of the desert. -A few minutes later, cooking-trenches had been dug, camp-fires lighted -and water, containing meat and macaroni, put on to boil. - -A busy and profitable hour followed for Madame la Cantiniere, who, even -as her cart stopped, had set out her folding tables, benches and bar for -the sale of her Algerian wine. Her first customer was the great Luigi, -who, thanks to Carmelita's money, could sit and drink while his -employees did his work. The fly in the worthy man's ointment was the -fact that his Italian dinner and Italian wine were thirty-five miles -behind him at Carmelita's cafe. Like ordinary men, he must, to-night -and for many a night to come, content himself with the monotonous and -meagre fare of common Legionaries. However--better half a sofa than no -bed; and he was easily prime favourite with Madame.... This would be an -excellent chance for consolidating his position with her, winning her -for his bride, and apprising Carmelita, from afar, of the fact that he -was now respectably settled in life. Thus would a disagreeable scene be -avoided and, on the return of the Battalion to Sidi-bel-Abbes, he would -give the Cafe de la Legion a wide berth.... Could he perhaps _sell_ his -rights and goodwill in the _cafe_ and Carmelita to some Legionary of -means? One or two of his own _chambree_ seemed to have money--the -Englishman; the Russians.... Better still, sell out to Malvin, Tou-tou, -Meyer, or some other penniless toady and _make him pay a weekly -percentage_ of what he screwed out of Carmelita. Excellent! And if the -scoundrel did not get him enough, he would supplant him with a more -competent lessee.... Meanwhile, to storm Madame's experienced and -undecided heart. Anyhow, if she wouldn't have Luigi she shouldn't have -anyone else.... - -There was, that evening, exceeding little noise and movement, and "the -stir and tread of armed camps." As soon as they had fed--and, in many -cases, before they had fed--the soldiers lay on their blankets, their -heads on their knapsacks and their overcoats over their bodies. - -Scarcely, as it seemed to Rupert, had they closed their eyes, when it -was time to rise and resume their weary march. At one o'clock in the -morning, the Battalion fell in, and each man got his two litres of water -and strict orders to keep one quarter of it for to-morrow's cooking -purposes. If he contributed no water to the cooking-cauldron he got no -cooked food. - -On tramped the Legion. - -Day after day, day after day, it marched, and, on the twelfth day from -Sidi-bel-Abbes, had covered nearly three hundred and fifty miles. Well -might the Legion be known in the Nineteenth Division as the _Cavalerie a -pied_. - - - Sec.2 - -Life for the Seventh Company of the First Battalion of the Legion in -Ainargoula was, as John Bull had promised Rupert, simply hell. Not even -the relief of desert warfare had broken the cruel monotony of desert -marches and life in desert stations--stations consisting of red-hot -barracks, and the inevitable filthy and sordid _Village Negre_. Men -lived--and sometimes died--in a state of unbearable irritation and -morose savageness. Fights were frequent, suicide not infrequent, and -murders not unknown. _Cafard_ reigned supreme. The punishment-cells -were overcrowded night and day, and abortive desertions occurred with -extraordinary frequency. - -The discontent and sense of wasted time, which had begun to oppress -Rupert at Sidi-bel-Abbes, increased tenfold. To him and to the Bucking -Bronco (who daily swore that he would desert that night, and tramp to -Sidi-bel-Abbes to see Carmelita) John Bull proved a friend in need. -Each afternoon, during that terrible time between eleven and three, when -the incredible heat of the barrack-room made it impossible for any work -to be done, and the men, by strict rule, were compelled to lie about on -their cots, it was John Bull who found his friends something else to -think about than their own sufferings and miseries. - -A faithful coadjutor was 'Erb, who, with his mouth-organ and Jew's-harp, -probably saved the reason, or the life, of more than one man. 'Erb -seemed to feel the heat less than bigger men, and he would sit -cross-legged upon his mattress, evoking tuneful strains from his beloved -instruments when far stronger men could only lie panting like distressed -dogs. Undoubtedly the three Englishmen and the American exercised a -restraining and beneficial influence, inasmuch as they interfered as one -man (following the lead of John Bull, the oldest soldier in the room) -whenever a quarrel reached the point of blows, in their presence.... -Under those conditions of life and temper a blow is commonly but the -prelude to swift homicide. - -One terrible afternoon, as the Legionaries lay on their beds, almost -naked, in that stinking oven, the suddenness of these tragedies was -manifested. It was too hot to play _bloquette_ or _foutrou_, too hot to -sing, too hot to smoke, too hot to do anything, and the hot bed -positively burnt one's bare back. The Bucking Bronco lay gasping, his -huge chest rising and falling with painful rapidity. John Bull was -showing Rupert a wonderfully and beautifully Japanese-tattooed serpent -which wound twice round his wrist and ran up the inner side of his white -forearm, its head and expanded hood filling the hollow of his elbow. -Rupert, who would have liked to copy it, was wondering how its brilliant -colours had been achieved and had remained undimmed for over thirty-five -years, as John Bull said was the case, it having been done at Nagasaki -when he was a midshipman on the _Narcissus_. It was too hot even for -'Erb to make music and he lay fanning himself with an ancient copy of -the _Echo d'Oran_. It was too hot to sleep, save in one or two cases, -and these men groaned, moaned and rolled their heads as they snored. It -was too hot to quarrel--almost. But not quite. Suddenly the swift -_zweeep_ of a bayonet being snatched from its steel scabbard hissed -through the room, and all eyes turned to where Legionary Franz Josef -Meyer flashed his bayonet from his sheath and, almost in the same -movement, drove it up through the throat of the Greek, Dimitropoulos, -and into his brain. - -"Take that, you scum of the Levant," he said, and then stared, wide-eyed -and open-mouthed, at his handiwork. There had been bad blood between -the men for some time, and for days the Austrian had accused the Greek -of stealing a piece of his wax. Some taunt of the dead man had completed -the work of _le cafard_.... - -That night Meyer escaped from the cells--and his body, three days later, -was delivered up in return for the twenty-five francs paid for a live or -dead deserter. It would perhaps be more accurate to say that parts of -his body were brought in--sufficient, at any rate, for identification. - -He had fallen into the hands of the Arabs. - -To give the Arabs their due, however, they saved the situation. Just -when Legionary John Bull had begun to give up hope, and nightly to dread -what the morrow might bring forth for his friends and himself, the Arabs -attacked the post. The strain on the over-stretched cord was released -and men who, in another day, would have been temporarily or permanently -raving madmen, were saved. - -The attack was easily beaten off and without loss to the Legionaries, -firing from loopholes and behind stone walls. - -On the morrow, a reconnaissance toward the nearest oasis discovered -their camp and, on the next day, a tiny punitive column set forth from -Ainargoula--the Legionaries as happy, to use Rupert's too appropriate -simile, as sand-boys. Like everybody else, he was in the highest -spirits. Gone was the dark shadow of _le cafard_ and the feeling that, -unless something happened, he would become a homicidal maniac and run -amuck. - -Here was the "real thing." Here was that for which he had been so long -and so drastically trained--desert warfare. He thrilled from head to -foot with excitement, and wondered whether the day would bring forth one -of the famous and terrible Arab cavalry charges, and whether he would -have his first experience of taking part in the mad and fearful joy of a -bayonet charge. Anyhow, there was a chance of either or both. - -The Company marched on at its quickest, alternating five minutes of -swift marching with five minutes of the _pas gymnastique_, the long, -loping stride which is the "double" of the Legion. - -Far ahead marched a small advance-guard; behind followed a rear-guard, -and, well out on either side, marched the flankers. Where a sandy ridge -ran parallel with the course of the Company, the flankers advanced along -the crest of it, that they might watch the country which lay beyond. -This did not avail them much, for, invariably, such a ridge was -paralleled by a similar one at no great distance. To have rendered the -little Company absolutely secure against sudden surprise-attack on -either flank, would have necessitated sending out the majority of the -force for miles on either side. Rupert, ever keen and deeply interested -in military matters, talked of this with John Bull, who agreed with him -that, considerable as the danger of such an attack was, it could not be -eliminated. - -"Anyhow," concluded he, "we generally get something like at least five -hundred yards' margin and if the Arabs can cut us up while we have -that--they deserve to. Still, it's tricky country I admit, with all -these _wadis_ and folds in the ground, as well as rocks and ridges." - -On marched the Company, and reached an area of rolling sand-hills, and -loose heavy sand under foot. - -The day grew terribly hot and the going terribly heavy. As usual, all -pretence and semblance of smart marching had been abandoned, and the men -marched in whatever posture, attitude or style seemed to them best.... - -... It came with the suddenness of a thunderclap on a fine day, at a -moment when practically everything but the miseries of marching through -loose sand in the hottest part of one of the hottest days of the year -had faded from the minds of the straining, labouring men. - -A sudden shout, followed by the firing of half a dozen shots, brought -the column automatically to a halt and drew all eyes to the right. - -From a wide shallow _wadi_, or a fold in the ground, among the -sand-hills a few hundred yards away, an avalanche of _haik_ and -_djellab_-clad men on swift horses suddenly materialised and swept down -like a whirlwind on the little force. Behind them, followed a far -bigger mass of camel-riders howling "_Ul-Ul-Ullah-Akbar!_" as they came. -Almost before the column had halted, a couple of barks from Lieutenant -Roberte turned the Company to the right in two ranks, the front rank -kneeling, the rear rank standing close up behind it, with bayonets fixed -and magazines charged... Having fired their warning shots, the flankers -were running for their lives to join the main body. The Company watched -and waited in grave silence. It was Lieutenant Roberte's intention -that, when the Arabs broke and fled before the Company's withering blast -of lead, they should leave the maximum number of "souvenirs" behind -them. His was the courage and nerve that is tempered and enhanced by -imperturbable coolness. He would let the charging foe gallop to the -very margin of safety for his Legionaries. To turn them back at fifty -yards would be much more profitable than to do it at five hundred. - -Trembling with excitement and the thrilling desire for violent action, -Rupert knelt between John Bull and the Bucking Bronco, scarcely able to -await the orders to fire and charge. Before any order came he saw a -sight that for a moment sickened and shook him, a sight which remained -before his eyes for many days. Corporal Auguste Gilles, who was -commanding the flankers, either too weary or too ill to continue his -sprint for comparative safety, turned and faced the thundering rush of -the oncoming Arab _harka_, close behind him. Kneeling by a prickly pear -or cactus bush he threw up his rifle and emptied his magazine into the -swiftly rushing ranks that were almost upon him. As he fired his last -shot, an Arab, riding ahead of the rest, lowered his lance and, with a -cry of "_Kelb ibn kelb_,"[#] bent over towards him. Springing to his -feet the Corporal gamely charged with his bayonet. There can be only -one end to such a combat when the horseman knows his weapon. The -Corporal was sent flying into the cactus, impaled upon the Arab's lance, -and, as it was withdrawn as the horseman swept by, the horrified Rupert -saw his comrade stagger to his feet and totter forward--tethered to the -cactus by his own entrails. Happily, a second later, the sweep of an -Arab _flissa_ almost severed his head from his shoulders.... - - -[#] Dog--and son of a dog. - - -The Company stood firm and silent as a rock, the shining bayonets still -and level. Just as it seemed to Rupert that it must be swept away and -every man share the fate of that mangled lump of clay in front (for -there is no more nerve-shaking spectacle than cavalry charging down upon -you like a living avalanche or flood) one word rang out from Lieutenant -Roberte. - -When the crashing rattle (like mingled, tearing thunder and the wild -hammer of hail upon a corrugated iron roof), ceased as magazines were -emptied almost simultaneously, the Arabs were in flight at top speed, -leaving two-thirds of their number on the plain; and upon the fleeing -_harka_ the Company made very pretty shooting--for the Legion shoots as -well as it marches. - -When the "Cease Fire" whistle had blown, Rupert remarked to John Bull-- - -"No chance for a bayonet charge, then?" to which the old soldier -replied-- - -"No, my son, that is a pleasure to which the Arab does not treat us, -unless we surprise his sleeping _douar_ at dawn...." - -The Arabs having disappeared beyond the horizon, the Company camped and -bivouacked on the battlefield, resuming its march at midnight. As -Lieutenant Roberte feared and expected, the oasis which was surrounded -and attacked at dawn, was found to be empty. - -The Company marched back to Ainargoula and, a few days later, returned -to Sidi-bel-Abbes. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - THE SHEEP IN WOLF'S CLOTHING - - -Legionnaire John Bull sat on the edge of his cot at the hour of -_astiquage_. Though his body was in the _chambree_ of the Seventh -Company, his mind, as usual, was in England, and his thoughts, as usual, -played around the woman whom he knew as Marguerite, and the world as -Lady Huntingten. - -What _could_ he do next year when his third and last period of Legion -service expired? Where could he possibly hide in such inviolable -anonymity that there was no possible chance of any rumour arising that -the dead Sir Montague Merline was in the land of the living? ... How had -it happened that he had survived the wounds and disease that he had -suffered in Tonkin, Madagascar, Dahomey, and the Sahara--the stake-trap -pit into which he had fallen at Nha-Nam--the bullet in his neck from the -Malagasy rifle--the hack from the _coupe-coupe_ which had split his -collar-bone in that ghastly West African jungle--the lance-thrust that -had torn his arm from elbow to shoulder at Elsefra? - -It was an absolute and undeniable fact that the man who desired to die -in battle could never do it; while he who had everything to live for, -was among the first to fall. If they went South again to-morrow and -were cut up in a sudden Arab _razzia_, he would be the sole survivor. -But if a letter arrived on the previous day, stating that Lord -Huntingten was dead leaving no children, and that Lady Huntingten had -just heard of his survival and longed for his return--would he survive -that fight? Most certainly not. - -What to do at the end of the fifteenth year of his service? His face -had been far too well known among the class of people who passed through -Marseilles to India and elsewhere--who winter on the Riviera, who golf -at Biarritz, who recuperate at Vichy or Aix, who go to Paris in the -Spring; and who, in short, are to be found in various parts of France at -various times of the year--for him to dream of using the Legion's free -pass to any part of France. The risk might be infinitesimal, but it -existed, and he would run no risk of ruining Marguerite's life, after -more than twenty-five years. - -She must be over forty-five now.... Had time dealt kindly with her? -Was she as beautiful as ever? Sure to be. Marguerite was of the type -that would ripen, mature, and improve until well on into middle life. -Who was the eminent man who said that a woman was not interesting until -she was forty?... - -What would he not give for a sight of Marguerite? It would be easy -enough, next year. Only next year--and it was a thousand to one, a -million to one, against anyone recognising him if he were well disguised -and thoroughly careful. Just one sight of Marguerite--after more than -twenty-five years! Had he not made sacrifices enough? Might he not -take _that_ much reward for half a lifetime of life in death--a lifetime -which his body dragged wretchedly and wearily along among the dregs of -the earth, while his mind haunted the home of his wife, a home in which -another man was lord and master. Was it much to ask--one glimpse of his -wife after twenty-seven years of renunciation? - -"Miserable, selfish cur!" he murmured aloud as he melted a piece of wax -in the flame of a match. "You would risk the happiness of your wife, -your old friend, and their children--all absolutely innocent of -wrong--for the sake of a minute's self-indulgence.... Be ashamed of -yourself, you whining weakling...." - -It had become a habit of Legionnaire John Bull to talk to himself aloud, -when alone--a habit he endeavoured to check as he had recently, on more -than one occasion, found himself talking aloud in the company of others. - -Having finished the polishing of his leather-work, he took his Lebel -rifle from the rack and commenced to clean it. As he threw open the -chamber, he paused, the bolt in his right hand, the rifle balanced in -his left. Someone was running with great speed along the corridor -toward the room. What was up? Was it a case of _Faites le sac_? Would -the head of an excited and delighted Legionary be thrust in at the door -with a yell of--"_Aux armes! Faites le sac_"? - -The door burst open and in rushed Mikhail Kyrilovitch, bare-headed, -coatless, with staring eyes and blanched cheeks. - -"Save me, save me, Monsieur," he shrieked, rushing towards the old -Legionary. "Save me--_I am a woman_...." - -"Good God!" ejaculated Legionary John Bull, involuntarily glancing from -the face to the flat chest of the speaker. - -"I am a girl," sobbed the _soi-disant_ Mikhail.... "I am a girl.... And -that loathsome beast Luigi Rivoli has found me out.... He's coming.... -He chased me.... What shall I do? What _shall_ I do? Poor Feodor...." - -As Legionnaire Luigi Rivoli entered the room, panting slightly with his -unwonted exertions, the girl crouched behind John Bull, her face in her -hands, her body shaken by deep sobs. It had all happened so quickly -that John Bull found himself standing with his gun balanced, still in -the attitude into which he had frozen on hearing the running feet -without. - -So it had come, had it--and he was to try conclusions with Luigi Rivoli -at last? Well, it should be no inconclusive rough-and-tumble. Perhaps -this was the solution of his problem, and might settle, once and for -all, the question of his future? - -"Ho-ho! Ho-ho!" roared the Neapolitan, "she's your girl, is she, you -_aristocratico Inglese_? Ho-ho! You are _faisant Suisse_ are you? -Ho-ho! Your own private girl in the very _chambree_! Corpo di Bacco! -You shall learn the penalty for breaking the Legion's first law of -share-and-share-alike. Get out of my way, _cane Inglese_." - -John Bull closed the breech of his rifle, and pointed the weapon at -Rivoli's broad breast. - -"Stand back," he said quietly. "Stand back, you foul-mouthed scum of -Naples, or I'll blow your dirty little soul out of your greasy carcase." -He raised his voice slightly. "Stand back, you dog, do you hear?" he -added, advancing slightly towards his opponent. - -Luigi Rivoli gave ground. The rifle might be loaded. You never knew -with these cursed, quiet Northerners, with their cold, pale eyes.... -The rifle might be loaded.... Rivoli was well aware that every -Legionary makes it his business to steal a cartridge sooner or later, -and keeps it by him for emergencies, be they of suicide, murder, -self-defence, or desertion.... The Englishman had been standing in the -attitude of one who loads a rifle at the moment of his entrance. -Perhaps his girl had told him of the discovery and assault, and he had -been loading the rifle to avenge her. - -"Listen to me, Luigi Rivoli," said John Bull, still holding the rifle -within a foot of the Italian's breast. "Listen, and I'll tell you what -you are. Then I will tell the Section what you are, when they come -in.... Then I will tell the whole Company.... Then I will stand on a -table in the Canteen and shout it, night after night.... This is what -you are. You are a coward. A _coward_, d'you hear?--a miserable, -shrinking, frightened coward, who dare not fight...." - -"Fight! _Iddio_! _Fight_! Put down that rifle and I'll tear you limb -from limb. Come down into the square and I will break your back. Come -down now--and fight for the girl." - -"... A trembling, frightened coward who dare not fight, and who calls -punching, and hugging and kicking 'fighting.' I challenge you to fight, -Luigi Rivoli, with rifles--at one hundred yards and no cover; or with -revolvers, at ten paces; or with swords of any sort or kind--if it's -only sword-bayonets. Will you fight, or will you be known as _Rivoli the -Coward_ throughout both Battalions of the Legion?" - -Rivoli half-crouched for a spring, and straightway the rifle sprang to -the Englishman's shoulder, as his eyes blazed and his fingers fell round -the trigger. Rivoli recoiled. - -"I don't want to shoot you, unarmed, Coward," he said quietly. "I am -going to shoot you, or stab you, or slash you, in fair fight--or else -you shall kneel and be christened _Rivoli the Coward_ on the barrack -square.... I've had enough of you, and so has everybody--unless it's -your gang of pimps.... Now go. Go on--get out.... Go on--before I -lose patience. Clear out--and make up your mind whether you will fight -or be christened." - -"Oh, I'll fight you--you mangy old cur. You are brave enough with a -loaded rifle, eh? Mother of Christ! I'll send you where the birds -won't trouble you.... Shoot me in the back as I go, Brave Man with a -Gun"--and Luigi Rivoli departed, in a state of horrid doubt and -perturbation.... This cursed Englishman meant what he said.... - -Legionary John Bull lowered his rifle with a laugh, and became aware of -the fact that the Russian girl was hugging his leg in a way which would -have effectually hampered him in the event of a struggle, and which made -him feel supremely ridiculous. - -"Get up, _petite_," he said bending over her, as she lay moaning and -weeping. "It's all right--he's gone. He won't trouble you again, for I -am going to kill him. Come and lie on your bed and tell me all about -it.... We must make up our minds as to what will be the best thing to -do.... Rivoli will tell everybody." - -He helped the girl to her feet, partly led and partly carried her to her -bed, and laid her on it. - -Holding his lean brown hand between her little ones, in a voice broken -and choked with sobs, she told him something of her story--a sad little -story all too common. - -The listener gathered that the two were children of a prominent -revolutionary who had disappeared into Siberia, after what they -considered a travesty of a trial. They had been students at the -University of Moscow, and had followed in their father's political -footsteps from the age of sixteen. Their youth and inexperience, their -fanatical enthusiasm, and their unselfish courage, had, in a few years, -brought them to a point at which they must choose between death or the -horrors of prison and Siberia on the one hand, and immediate flight, and -most complete and utter evanishment on the other. When his beloved twin -sister had been chosen by the Society as an "instrument," Feodor's heart -had failed him. He had disobeyed the orders of the Central Committee; -he had coerced the girl; he had made disclosures. - -They had escaped to Paris. Before long it had been a question as to -whether they were in more imminent and terrible danger from the secret -agents of the Russian police or from those of the Nihilists. The sight -of the notice, "_Bureau de recruitment. Engagements volontaires_," over -the door of a dirty little house in the Rue St. Dominique had suggested -the Legion Etrangere, and a possible means of escape and five years' -safety. - -But the Medical Examination? ... - -Accompanied by a fellow-fugitive who was on his way to America, Feodor -had gone to the Bureau and they had enlisted, passed the doctor, and -received railway-passes to Marseilles, made out in the names of Feodor -and Mikhail Kyrilovitch; sustenance money; and orders to proceed by the -night train from the Gare de Lyons and report at Fort St. Jean in the -morning, if not met at the station by a Sergeant of the Legion. Their -compatriot had handed his travelling warrant to the girl (dressed in a -suit of Feodor's) ind had seen the twins off at the Gare de Lyons with -his blessing.... - -Monsieur Jean Boule knew the rest, and but for this hateful, bestial -Luigi Rivoli, all might have been well, for she was very strong, and had -meant to be very brave. Now, what should she do; what _should_ she do? -... And what would poor Feodor say when he came in from corvee and found -that she had let herself get caught like this at last? ... What could -they do? - -And indeed, Sir Montague Merline did not know what a lady could do when -discovered in a _chambree_ of a _caserne_ of the French Foreign Legion -in Sidi-bel-Abbes. He did not know in the least. There was first the -attitude of the authorities to consider, and then that of the men. -Would a Court Martial hold that, having behaved as a man, she should be -treated as one, and kept to her bargain, or sent to join the Zephyrs? -Would they imprison her for fraud? Would they repatriate her? Would -they communicate with the Russian police? Or would they just fling her -out of the barrack-gate and let her go? There was probably no -precedent, whatever, to go upon. - -And supposing the matter were hushed up in the _chambree_, and the -authorities never knew--would life be livable for the girl? Could he, -and Rupert, the Bucking Bronco, Herbert Higgins, Feodor, and perhaps one -or two of the more decent foreigners, such as Hans Djoolte, and old -Tant-de-Soif, ensure her a decent life, free from molestation and -annoyance? No, it couldn't be done. Life would be rendered utterly -impossible for her by gross animals of the type of Rivoli, Malvin, the -_Apache_, Hirsch, Bauer, Borges, and the rest of Rivoli's sycophants. -It was sufficiently ghastly, and almost unthinkable, to imagine a woman -in that sink when nobody dreamed she was anything but what she seemed. -How could one contemplate a woman, who was _known_ to be a woman, living -her life, waking and sleeping, in such a situation? The more devotedly -her bodyguard shielded and protected her, the more venomously determined -would the others be to annoy, insult and injure her in a thousand -different ways. It would be insupportable, impossible.... But of -course it could not be kept from the authorities for a week. What was -to be done? - -As he did his utmost to soothe the weeping girl, clumsily patting her -back, stroking her hands, and murmuring words of comfort and promises of -protection, Merline longed for the arrival of Rupert. He wanted to take -counsel with another English gentleman as to the best thing to be done -for this unfortunate woman. He dared not leave her weeping there alone. -Anybody might enter at any moment. Rivoli might return with the choicest -scoundrels of his gang.... Why did not the Bucking Bronco turn up? -When he and Rupert arrived there would be an accession of brawn and of -brains that would be truly welcome. - -Curiously enough, Sir Montague Merline's insular Englishness had -survived fourteen years of life in a cosmopolitan society, speaking a -foreign tongue in a foreign land, with such indestructible sturdiness -that it was upon the Anglo-Saxon party that he mentally relied in this -strait. He had absolutely forgotten that it was the girl's own brother -who was her natural protector, and upon whom lay the onus of discovering -the solution of this insoluble problem and extricating the girl from her -terrible position. - -What could he do? It was all very well to say that the three Englishmen -and the American would protect her, that night, by forming a -sentry-group and watching in turn--but how long could that go on? It -would be all over the barracks to-morrow, and known to the authorities a -few hours later. Oh, if he could only do her up in a parcel and post -her to Marguerite with just a line, "_Please take care of this poor -girl.--Monty._" Marguerite would keep her safe enough.... But thinking -nonsense wasn't helping. He would load his rifle in earnest, and settle -scores with Luigi Rivoli, once and for all, if he returned with a gang -to back him. Incidentally, that would settle his own fate, for it would -mean a Court Martial at Oran followed by a firing-party, or penal -servitude in the Zephyrs, and, at his age, that would only be a slower -death. - -All very well for him and Rivoli, but what of the girl? ... What ghastly -danger it must have been that drove them to such a dreadful expedient. -Truly the Legion was a net for queer fish. Poor, plucky little soul, -what could he do for her? - -Never since he wore the two stars[#] of a British Captain had he longed, -as he did at that moment, for power and authority. If only he were a -Captain again, Captain of the Seventh Company, the girl should go -straight to his wife, or some other woman. Suddenly he rose to his -feet, his face illuminated by the brilliance of the idea which had -suddenly entered his mind. - - -[#] Since increased to three, of course. - - -"_Carmelita!_" he almost shouted to the empty room. He bent over the -crying girl again, and shook her gently by the shoulder. - -"I have it, little one," he said. "Thank God! Yes--it's a chance. I -believe I have a plan. Carmelita! Let's get out of this at once, -straight to the Cafe de la Legion. Carmelita has a heart of gold...." - -The girl half sat up. "She may be a kind girl--but she's Luigi Rivoli's -mistress," she said. "She would do anything he ordered." - -"Carmelita considers herself Rivoli's wife," replied the Englishman, -"and so she would be, if he were not the biggest blackguard unhung. -Very well, he can hardly go to the woman who is practically his wife and -say, 'Hand over the woman you are hiding.'" - -"When a woman loves a man she obeys him," said the girl, and added with -innocent naivete, "And I will obey you, Monsieur Jean Boule.... Anyhow, -it is a hope--in a position which is hopeless." - -"Get into walking-out kit quickly," urged the old soldier, "and see the -Sergeant of the Guard has no excuse for turning you back. The sooner -we're away the better.... I wish Rupert and the Bronco would roll -up.... If you can get to Carmelita's unseen, and change back into a -girl, you could either hide with Carmelita for a time, or simply desert -in feminine apparel." - -"And Feodor?" asked the Russian. "Will they shoot him? I can't -leave..." - -"Bother Feodor," was the quick reply. "One soldier is not responsible -because another deserts. Let's get you safe to Carmelita's, and then -I'll find Feodor and tell him all about it." - -Hiram Cyrus Milton, entering the room bare-footed and without noise, was -not a little surprised to behold a young soldier fling his arms about -the neck of the eminently staid and respectable Legionary John Bull, -with a cry of-- - -"Oh, may God reward you, kind good Monsieur." - -"Strike me blue and balmy," ejaculated the Bucking Bronco. "Ain't these -gosh-dinged furriners a bunch o' boobs? Say, John, air yew his -long-lost che-ild? It's a cinch. Where's that dod-gasted boy 'Erb fer -slow music on the jewzarp? ... Or is the lalapaloozer only a-smellin' -the roses on yure damask cheek?" - -"Change quickly, _petite_," said John Bull to the girl as he pushed her -from him, and turned to the American. - -"Come here, Buck," said he, taking the big man's arm and leading him to -the window. - -"Don't say as haow yure sins hev' come home to roost, John? Did yew -reckernise the puling infant by the di'mond coronite on the locket, or -by the strawberry-mark in the middle of its back? Or was his name wrote -on the tail of his little shirt? Put me next to it, John. Make me wise -to the secret mystery of this 'ere drarmer." - -The Bucking Bronco was getting more than a little jealous. - -"I will, if you will give me a chance," replied John Bull curtly. -"Buck, that boy's a girl. Rivoli has found her out and acted as you -might expect. I suppose he spotted her in the wash-house or somewhere. -She rushed to me for protection, and the game's up. I am going to take -her to Carmelita." - -The big American stared at his friend with open mouth. - -"Yew git me jingled, John," he said slowly. "Thet little looker a -_gal_? Is this a story made out of whole cloth,[#] John?" - - -[#] Untrue. - - -"Get hold of it, Buck, quickly," was the reply. "The two Russians are -political refugees. Their number was up, in Russia, and they bolted to -Paris. Same in Paris--and they made a dash for here. Out of the -frying-pan into the fire. This one's a girl. Luigi Rivoli knows, and it -will be all over the barracks before to-night. She rushed straight to -me, and I am going to see her through. If you can think of anything -better than taking her to Carmelita, say so." - -"I'll swipe the head off'n Mister Lousy Loojey Rivoli," growled the -American. "God smite me ef I don't. Thet's torn it, thet has.... The -damned yaller-dog Dago.... Thet puts the lid on Mister Loojey Rivoli, -thet does." - -"_I'm_ going to deal with Rivoli, Buck," said John Bull. - -"He'd crush yew with a b'ar's hug, sonny; he'd bust in yure ribs, an' -break yure back, an' then chuck yew down and dance on yew." - -"He won't get the chance, Buck; it's not going to be a gutter-scrap. -When he chased the girl in here I challenged him to fight with bullet or -steel, and told him I'd brand him all over the shop till he was known as -'Rivoli the Coward,' or fought a fair and square duel.... Let's get the -girl out of this, and then we'll put Master Luigi Rivoli in his place -once and for all." - -"Shake!" said the Bucking Bronco, extending a huge hand. - -"Seen Rupert lately?" asked the Englishman. - -"Yep," replied the other. "He's a-settin' on end a-rubberin' at his -pants in the lavabo." - -"Good! Go and fetch him quick, Buck." - -The American sped from the room without glancing at the girl, returning -a minute or two later with Rupert. The two men hurried to their -respective cots and swiftly changed from fatigue-dress into blue and -red. - -"If Carmelita turns us down, let's all three desert and take the girl -with us," said Rupert to John Bull. "I have plenty of money to buy -mufti, disguises, and railway tickets. She would go as a woman of -course. We could be a party of tourists. Yes, that's it, English -tourists. Old Mendoza would fit us out--at a price." - -"Thanks," was the reply. "We'll get her out somehow.... She'd stand a -far better chance alone though, probably. If suspicion fell on one of -us they'd arrest the lot." - -"Say," put in the American. "Ef she can do the boy stunt, I reckon as -haow her brother oughter be able ter do the gal stunt ekally well. Ef -Carmelita takes her in, and fits her out with two of everything, her -brother could skedaddle and jine her, and put on the remainder of the -two-of-everything; then they ups and goes on pump as the Twin Sisters -Golightly, a-tourin' of the Crowned Heads of Yurrup, otherwise, as The -Twin Roosian Bally-Gals Skiporfski...." - -"Smart idea," agreed Rupert. "I hope Carmelita takes her in. What the -devil shall we do with her if she won't? She can't very well spend the -night here after Luigi has put it about.... And what's her position -with regard to the authorities? Is it a case of Court Martial or toss -for her in the Officers' Mess, or what?" - -"Don't know, I'm sure. Haven't the faintest idea," replied John Bull. -"If only Carmelita turns up trumps...." - -"Seenyoreena Carmelita is the whitest little woman as ever lived," -growled the American. "She's a blowed-in-the-glass heart-o'-gold. Yew -can put yure shirt on Carmelita.... Yew know what I mean--yure bottom -dollar.... Ef it wasn't fer that filthy Eye-talian sarpint, she'd jump -at the chance of giving this Roosian gal her last crust.... I don't -care John whether you shoot him up or nit. I'm gwine ter slug him till -Hell pops. Let him fight his dirtiest an' damnedest--I'll see him and -raise him every time, the double-dealin' gorilla...." - -"I am ready, Monsieur," said the girl Olga to John Bull. "But I do not -want you, Monsieur, nor these other gentlemen, to make trouble for -yourselves on my account.... I have brought this on myself, and there -is no reason why you..." - -"Oh, shucks! Come on, little gal," broke in the Bucking Bronco. "We'll -see yew through. We ain't Loojeys...." - -"Of course, we will. We shall be only too delighted," agreed Rupert. -"Don't you worry." - -"Pull yourself together and swagger all you can," advised John Bull. -"It might ruin everything if the Sergeant of the Guard took it into his -head to turn you back. I wonder if we had better go through in a gang, -or let you go first? If we are all together there is less likelihood of -excessive scrutiny of any one of us, but on the other hand it may be -remembered that you were last seen with us three, and that might hamper -our future usefulness.... Just as well Feodor isn't here.... Tell you -what, you and I will go out together, and I'll use my wits to divert -attention from you if we are stopped. The others can come a few minutes -later, or as soon as someone else has passed." - -"That's it," agreed Rupert; "come on." - -With beating hearts, the old soldier and the young girl approached the -little side door by the huge barrack-gates. Close by it stood the -Sergeant of the Guard. Their anxiety increased as they realised that it -was none other than Sergeant Legros, one of the most officious, -domineering and brutal of the Legion's N.C.O.'s. Luck was against them. -He would take a positive delight in standing by that door the whole -evening and in turning back every single man whose appearance gave him -the slightest opportunity for fault-finding, as well as a good many -whose appearance did not. - -As they drew near and saluted smartly, the little piggish eyes of -Sergeant Legros took in every detail of their uniform. The girl felt -the blood draining from her cheeks. What if they had made a mistake? -What if red trousers and blue tunic should be wrong, and the _ordre du -jour_ should be white trousers and blue tunic or capote? What if she -had a button undone or her bayonet on the wrong side? What if Sergeant -Legros should see, or imagine a speck upon her tunic? ... Had she been -under his evil gaze for hours? Was the side of the Guard House miles in -length? ... Thank God, they were through the gate and free. Free for -the moment, and if the good God were merciful she was free for ever from -the horrors and fears of that terrible place. Could anything worse -befall her? Yes, there were worse places for a girl than a barrack-room -of the French Foreign Legion. There was a Russian prison--there was the -dark prison-van and warder--there was the journey to Siberia--there was -Siberia itself. Yes, there were worse places than that she had just -left--until her secret was discovered. A thousand times worse. And she -thought of her friend, that poor girl who had been less fortunate than -she. Poor, poor Marie! Would she herself be sent back to Russia to -share Marie's fate, if these brave Englishmen and Carmelita failed to -save her? What would become of Feodor? ... Did this noble Englishman, -with the gentle face, love this girl Carmelita? ... Might not -Carmelita's house be a very trap if the loathsome Italian brute owned -its owner?... - -"Let's stroll slowly now, my dear," said John Bull, "and let the others -overtake us. The more the merrier, if we should run into Rivoli and his -gang, or if he is already at Carmelita's. I don't think he will be. I -fancy he puts in the first part of his evening with Madame la -Cantiniere, and goes down to Carmelita's later for his dinner.... If he -should be there I don't quite see what line he can take in front of -Carmelita. He could hardly molest you in front of the woman whom he -pretends he is going to marry, and I don't see on what grounds he could -raise any objection to her befriending you.... It's a deuced awkward -position--for the fact that I intend to kill Rivoli, if I can, hardly -gives me a claim on Carmelita. She loves the very ground the brute -treads on, you know, and it would take me, or anybody else, a precious -long time to persuade her that the man who rid the world of Luigi Rivoli -would be her very best friend.... He's the most noxious and poisonous -reptile I have ever come across, and I believe she is one of the best of -good little women.... It is a hole we're in. We've got to see -Carmelita swindled and then jilted and broken-hearted; or we've got to -bring the blackest grief upon her by saving her from Rivoli." - -"Do _you_ love her too, Monsieur?" asked Olga. - -"Good Heavens, no!" laughed the Englishman. "But I have a very great -liking and regard for her, and so has my friend Rupert. It is poor old -Buck who loves her, and I am really sorry for him. It's bad enough to -love a woman and be unable to win her, but it must be awful to see her -in the power of a man whom you know to be an utter blackguard.... Queer -thing, Life.... I suppose there is some purpose in it.... Here they -come," he added, looking round. - -"Who's gwine ter intervoo Carmelita, and put her wise to the -sitooation?" asked the Bucking Bronco as he and Rupert joined the -others. "Guess yew'd better, John. Yew know more Eye-talian and French -than we do, an', what's more, Carmelita wouldn't think there was any -'_harry-air ponsey_'--or is it '_double-intender_'--ef the young woman -is interdooced, as sich, by yew." - -"All right," replied John Bull. "I'll do my best--and we must all weigh -in with our entreaties if I fail." - -"Yew'll do it, John. I puts my shirt on Carmelita every time...." - -Le Cafe de la Legion was swept and garnished, and Carmelita sat in her -_sedia pieghevole_[#] behind her bar, awaiting her evening guests. - - -[#] Deck-chair. - - -It was a sadder-looking, thinner, somewhat older-looking Carmelita than -she who had welcomed Rupert and his fellow _bleus_ on the occasion of -their first visit to her _cafe_. Carmelita's little doubt had grown, -and worry was bordering upon anxiety--for Luigi Rivoli was Carmelita's -life, and Carmelita was not only a woman, but an Italian woman, and a -Neapolitan at that. Far better than life she loved Luigi Rivoli, and -only next to him did she love her own self-respect and virtue. As has -been said before, Carmelita considered herself a married woman. Partly -owing to her equivocal position, partly to an innate purity of mind, -Carmelita had a present passion for "respectability" such as had never -troubled her before. - -And Luigi was causing her grief and anxiety, doubt and care, and fear. -For long she had fought it off, and had stoutly refused to confess it -even to herself, but day by day and night by night, the persistent -attack had worn down her defences of Hope and Faith until at length she -stood face to face with the relentless and insidious assailant and -recognised it for what it was--Fear. It had come to that, and Carmelita -now frankly admitted to herself that she had fears for the faith, -honesty and love of the man whom she regarded as her husband and knew to -be the father of the so hoped-for _bambino_.... - -Could it be possible that the man for whom she had lived, and for whom -she would at any time have died, her own Luigi, who, but for her, would -be in a Marseilles graveyard, her own husband--was laying siege to fat -and ugly Madame la Cantiniere, because her business was a more -profitable one than Carmelita's? It could not be. Men were not devils. -Men did not repay women like that. Not even ordinary men, far less her -Luigi. Of course not--and besides, there was the Great Secret. - -For the thousandth time Carmelita found reassurance, comfort and cheer -in the thought of the Great Secret, and its inevitable effect upon Luigi -when he knew it. What would he say when he realised that there might be -another Luigi Rivoli, for, of course, it would be a boy--a boy who would -grow up another giant among men, another Samson, another Hercules, -another winner of a World's Championship. - -What would he do in the transports of his joy? How his face would shine! -How heartily he would agree with her when she pointed out that it would -be as well for them to marry now before the _bambino_ came. No more -procrastination now. What a wedding it should be, and what a feast they -would give the brave _soldati_! Il Signor Jean Boule should have the -seat of honour, and the Signor Americano should come, and Signor Rupert, -and Signor 'Erbiggin, and the poor Grasshopper, and the two Russi (ah! -what of that Russian girl, what would be her fate? It was wonderful how -she kept up the deception. Poor, poor little soul, what a life--the -constant fear, the watchfulness and anxiety. Fancy eating and drinking, -walking, talking and working, dressing and undressing, waking and -sleeping among those men--some of them such dreadful men). Yes, it -should be a wedding to remember, without stint of food or drink--_un -pranzo di tre portate_ with _i maccheroni_ and _la frittate d'uova_ and -the best of _couscous_, and there should be _vino Italiano_--they would -welcome a change from the eternal _vino Algerino_.... - -Four Legionaries entered, and Carmelita rose with a smile to greet them. -There was no one she would sooner see than Il Signor Jean Boule and his -friends--since it was not Luigi who entered. - -"_Che cosa posso offrirve?_" she asked. (Although Carmelita spoke -Legion French fluently one noticed that she always welcomed one in -Italian, and always counted in that language.) - -"I want a quiet talk with you, carissima Carmelita," said John Bull. -"We are in great trouble, and we want your help." - -"I am glad," replied Carmelita. "Not glad that you are in trouble, but -glad you have come to me." - -"It is about Mikhail Kyrilovitch," said the Englishman. - -"I thought it was," said Carmelita. - -"Don't think me mad, Carmelita," continued John Bull, "but listen. -Mikhail Kyrilovitch is a _girl_." - -"Don't think me mad, Signor Jean Boule," mimicked Carmelita, "but -listen. I have known Mikhail Kyrilovitch was a girl from the first -evening that she came here." - -The Englishman's blue eyes opened widely in surprise, as he stared at -the girl. "How?" he asked. - -"Oh, in a dozen ways," laughed Carmelita. "Hands, voice, manner. I -stroked her cheek, it was as soft as my own, while her twin brother's -was like sand-paper. When she went to catch a biscuit she made a 'lap,' -as one does who wears a skirt, instead of bringing her knees together as -a man does.... And what can I do for Mademoiselle Mikhail?" - -"You can save her, Carmelita, from I don't know what dangers and -horrors. She has been found out, and what her fate would be at the -tender mercies of the authorities on the one hand, and of the men on the -other, one does not like to think. The very least that could happen to -her is to be turned into the streets of Sidi-bel-Abbes." - -"Do the officers know yet?" asked Carmelita. "Who does know? Who found -her out?" - -"Luigi Rivoli found her out," replied John Bull. - -"And sent her to me?" asked Carmelita. "I am glad he..." - -"He did not send her to you," interrupted the Englishman gravely. - -"What did he do?" asked Carmelita quickly. - -"I will tell you what he did, Carmelita, as kindly as I can.... He -forgot he was a soldier, Carmelita; he forgot he was an honest man; he -forgot he was your--er--_fidanzato_, your _sposo_, Carmelita...." - -Carmelita went very white. - -"Tell me, Signor," she said quickly. "Did you have to protect this -Russian wretch from Luigi?" - -"I did," was the reply. "Why do you speak contemptuously of the girl? -She is as innocent as--as innocent as you are, Carmelita." - -"I hate her," hissed Carmelita.... "Did Luigi kiss her? What happened? -Did he...?" - -The Englishman put his hand over Carmelita's little clenched fist as it -lay on the bar. - -"Listen, little one," he said. "You are one of the best, kindest and -bravest women I have known. I am certain you are going to be worthy of -yourself now. So is Rupert, so is Monsieur Bronco. He has been blaming -us bitterly when we have even for a moment wondered whether you would -save this girl. He is worth a thousand Rivolis, and loves you a thousand -times better than Rivoli ever could. Don't disappoint him and us, -Carmelita. Don't disappoint us _in yourself_, I mean.... What has the -girl done that you should hate her?" - -"Did Luigi kiss her?" again asked Carmelita. - -"He did not," was the reply. "He behaved..." - -"And he could not, of course, while she was with me, could he?" said -Carmelita. - -"Exactly," smiled the Englishman. "Take her in now, little woman, and -lend her some clothes until we can get some things bought or made for -her." - -"Clothes cost francs, Signor Jean," was the practical reply of the girl, -who had grown up in a hard school. "I can give her food and shelter, and -I can lend her my things, but I have no francs for clothes." - -"Rupert will find whatever is necessary for her clothes and board and -lodging, and for her ticket too. She shan't be with you long, cara -Carmelita, nor in Sidi-bel-Abbes." - -Carmelita passed from behind the bar and went over to the table at which -sat Rupert, the American, and the girl Olga. Putting her arm around the -neck of the last, Carmelita kissed her on the cheek. - -"Come, little one," she said. "Come to my bed and sleep. You shall be -as safe as if in the Chapel of the Mother of God," and, as the girl -burst into tears, led her away. - -John Bull joined his friends as the two women disappeared through the -door leading to Carmelita's room. - -"Well, thank God for that," he said as he sat down, and wiped his -forehead. "What's the next step?" - -"Find the other little Roosian guy, an' put him wise to what's happened -to sissy, I guess," replied the American. - -"Yes," agreed Rupert. "It's up to him to carry on now, with any sort or -kind of help that we can give him.... Where did he go after parade, I -wonder?" - -"The gal got copped for a wheel-barrer corvee--they was goin' scavengin' -round the officers' houses and gardens I think--an' he took her -place.... He'd be back by dark an' start washin' hisself," opined the -American. - -"Better get back at once then," said John Bull. - -"I feel a most awful cad," he added. - -"What on earth for?" asked Rupert. - -"About Carmelita," was the reply. "I've got her help under false -pretences. If I had told her that I was going to fight a serious duel -with her precious Luigi, she'd never have taken that girl in. If I -don't fight him now, he'll make my life utterly unlivable.... I wish to -God Carmelita could be brought to see him as he is and to understand -that the moment the Canteen will have him, he is done with the Cafe.... -I wish Madame la Cantiniere would take him and settle the matter. Since -it has got to come, the sooner the better. I should really enjoy my -fight with him if he had turned Carmelita down, and she regarded me as -her avenger instead of as the destroyer of her happiness." - -"One wouldn't worry about Madame la Cantiniere's feelings if one -destroyed her young man or her latest husband, I suppose?" queried -Rupert with a smile. - -"Nope," replied the American. "Nit. Not a damn. Nary a worry. You -could beat him up, or you could shoot him up, and lay your last red cent -that Madam lar Canteenair would jest say, '_Mong Jew! C'est la Legion_' -and look aroun' fer his doo and lorful successor.... Let's vamoose, -b'ys, an' rubber aroun' fer the other Roosian chechaquo." - -The three Legionaries quitted le Cafe de la Legion and made their way -back to their _caserne_. - -"I'll look in the _chambree_," said John Bull as they entered the -barrack-square. "You go to the lavabo, Rupert, and you see if he is in -the Canteen, Buck. Whoever finds him had better advise him to let Luigi -Rivoli alone, and make his plans for going on pump. Tell him I think his -best line would be to see Carmelita and arrange for him and his sister -to get dresses alike, and clear out boldly by train to Oran, as girls. -After that, they know their own business best, but I should recommend -England as about the safest place for them." - -"By Jove! I could give him a letter to my mother," put in Rupert. -"Good idea. My people would love to help them--especially as they could -tell them all about me." - -"Gee-whiz! Thet's a brainy notion," agreed the Bucking Bronco. "Let -'em skin out and make tracks for yure Old-Folk-at-Home. It's a cinch." - -Legionary John Bull found Legionary Feodor Kyrilovitch sitting on his -cot polishing "Rosalie," as the soldier of France terms his bayonet. -Several other Legionaries were engaged in _astiquage_ and accoutrement -cleaning. For the thousandth time, the English gentleman realised that -one of the most irksome and maddening of the hardships and disabilities -of the common soldier's life is its utter lack of privacy. - -"Bonsoir, cher Boule," remarked Feodor Kyrilovitch, looking up as the -English approached. "Have you seen my brother? He appears to have come -in and changed and gone out without me." - -Evidently the boy was anxious. - -"Your brother is at Carmelita's," replied John Bull, and added: "Come -over to my bed and sit beside me with your back to the room. I want to -speak to you." - -"Don't be alarmed," he continued as they seated themselves. "Your -brother is absolutely all right." - -The Russian gazed anxiously at the kindly face of the man whom he had -instinctively liked and trusted from the first. - -"Your brother is quite all right," continued the Englishman, "but I am -afraid you will have to change your plans." - -"Change our plans, Monsieur Boule?" - -"Yes," replied the older man, as he laid his hand on Feodor's knee with -a reassuring smile. "You will have to change your plans, for Mikhail -can be Mikhail no longer." - -The Russian bowed his head upon his hands with a groan. - -"My poor little Olusha," he whispered. - -"Courage, mon brave," said John Bull, patting him on the back. "We have -a plan for you. As soon as your sister was discovered, we took her to -Carmelita, with whom she will be quite safe for a while. Our idea is -that she and Carmelita make and buy women's clothes for both of you, and -that you escape as sisters. Since she made such a splendid boy, you -ought to be able to become a fairly convincing girl. Legionnaire -Mikhail Kyrilovitch will be looked for as a man--probably in uniform. -By the time the hue and cry is over, and he is forgotten, everything -will be ready for both of you, then one night you slip into Carmelita's -cafe and, next day, two cafe-chantant girls who have been visiting -Carmelita, walk coolly to the station and take train for Oran.... -Rivoli can't tell on them and still keep in with Carmelita. He'll have -to help--or pretend to." - -Feodor Kyrilovitch was himself again--a cool and level-headed -conspirator, accustomed to weighing chances, taking risks and facing -dangers. - -"Thanks, mon ami," he said. "I believe I owe you my sister's -salvation.... There will be difficulties, and there are risks--but it -is a plan." - -"Seems fairly hopeful," replied the other. "Anyhow, we could think of -nothing better." - -"We might get to Oran," mused Feodor; "but where we can go from there, -God knows. We daren't go to Paris again, and I doubt if we have a -hundred and fifty roubles between us.... And we dare not write to -friends in Russia." - -"We've thought of that too, my boy," interrupted the Englishman. "My -friend Rupert has money in the Credit Lyonnais, here in the town. He -says he will be only too delighted to lend you enough to get you to -England, and write a letter for you to take to his people. He says his -mother will welcome you with open arms as coming from him.... From what -he has said to me about her at different times, I imagine her to be one -of the best--and the best of Englishwomen are the best of women, let me -tell you." - -"And the best of Englishmen are the best of men," replied Feodor, -seizing the old Legionary's hand and kissing it fervently--to the latter -gentleman's consternation and utter discomfort. - -"Don't be an ass," he replied in English.... "Clear out now, and go and -have a talk with Carmelita. You can trust her absolutely. Give her what -money you've got, and she'll poke around in the ghetto for clothes. -She'll know lots of the Spanish Jew dealers and cheap _couturieres_, if -old Mendoza hasn't what she wants. Meanwhile, Rupert will draw some -money from the _banque_." - -The Russian rose to his feet. - -"But how can I thank you, Monsieur? How can I repay Monsieur Rupert for -his kindness?" - -"Don't thank me, and repay Rupert by visiting his mother and waxing -eloquent over his marvellous condition of health, happiness and -prosperity. Tell her he is having a lovely time in a lovely place with -lovely people." - -"You joke, Monsieur, how _can_ I repay you all?" - -"Well, I'll tell you, my son--by getting your sister clear of this hell -and safe into England." - -The Russian struck himself violently on the forehead and turned away. - -A minute later Rupert entered the _chambree_. - -"He's not in the lavabo," he announced. - -"No, it's all right. I found him here. He has just gone down to -Carmelita's.... Let's go over to the Canteen, I want to meet the gentle -Luigi Rivoli there." - -On the stairs they encountered the Bucking Bronco, who was told that -Feodor had been found and informed. - -"Our Loojey's in the road-house," he announced, "layin' off ter -Madam.... I wish she'd deliver the goods ef she's gwine ter. Then we -could git next our Loojey without raisin' hell with Carmelita." - -"Is the Canteen fairly full?" asked John Bull. - -"Some!" replied the Bucking Bronco. - -"Then I'm going over to seek sorrow," said the other. - -"Yure not goin' ter git fresh, an' slug the piker any, air yew, John?" -enquired the American anxiously. - -"No, Buck," was the reply. "I'm only going to make an interestin' -announcement," and, turning to Rupert, he advised him not to identify -himself with any proceedings which might ensue. - -"You are hardly complimentary, Bull," commented Rupert resentfully.... - -As the three entered the Canteen, which was rapidly filling up, they -caught sight of Rivoli lolling against the bar in his accustomed corner, -and whispering confidentially to Madame, during her intervals of -leisure. Pushing his way through the throng John Bull, closely followed -by his two friends, approached the Neapolitan. His back was towards -them. The American, whose face wore an ugly look, touched Rivoli with -his foot. - -"Makin' yure sweet self agreeable as usual, Loojey, my dear?" he -enquired, and proceeded with the difficult task of making himself both -sarcastic and intelligible in the French language. The Italian wheeled -round with a scowl at the sound of the voice he hated. - -John Bull stepped forward. - -"I have come for your answer, Rivoli," he said quietly. "I wish to know -when and with what weapons you would prefer to fight me. Personally, I -don't care in the least what they are, so long as they're fatal." - -A ring of interested listeners gathered round. The Neapolitan laughed -contemptuously. - -"Weapons!" he growled. "A _fico_ for weapons. I'll twist your neck and -break your back, if you trouble me again." - -"Very good," replied the Englishman. "Now listen, bully. We have had a -little more than enough of you. You take advantage of your strength to -terrorise men who are not street acrobats, and professional -weight-lifters. Now _I_ am going to take advantage of this, to -terrorise _you_," and he produced a small revolver from his pocket. -"Now choose. Try your blackguard-rush games and get a bullet through -your skull, or fight me like a man with any weapon you prefer." - -An approving cheer broke from the quickly increasing audience. The -Italian moistened his lips and glared round. - -"Mais oui," observed Madame with cool impartiality, "but that is a fair -offer." - -As though stung by her remark, the Italian threw himself into wrestling -attitude and extended his arms. John Bull moved only to extend his -pistol-arm, and Luigi Rivoli recoiled. Strangling men who could not -wrestle was one thing, being shot was quite another. The -thrice-accursed English dog had got him nicely cornered. To raise a -hand to him was to die--better to face his enemy, himself armed than -unarmed. Better still to catch him unarmed and stamp the life out of -him. He must temporise. - -"Ho-ho, Brave Little Man with a Pistol," he sneered. "Behold the -English hero who fears the bare hands of no man--while he has a revolver -in his own." - -"You miss the point, Rivoli," was the reply. "I want nothing to do with -you bare-handed. I want you to choose any weapon you like to name," and -turning to the deeply interested crowd he raised his voice a little: - -"Gentlemen of the Legion," he said, "I challenge le Legionnaire Luigi -Rivoli of the Seventh Company of the First Battalion of La Legion -Etrangere to fight me with whatever weapon he prefers. We can use our -rifles; he can have the choice of the revolvers belonging to me and my -friend le Legionnaire Bouckaing Bronceau; we can use our sword-bayonets; -we can get sabres from the Spahis; or it can be a rifle-and-bayonet -fight. He can choose time, place, and weapon--and, if he will not -fight, let him be known as _Rivoli the Coward_ as long as he pollutes -our glorious Regiment." - -Ringing and repeated cheers greeted the longest public speech that Sir -Montague Merline had ever made. - -A bitter sneer was frozen on Rivoli's white face. - -"_Galamatias!_" he laughed contemptuously, but the laugh rang a little -uncertain. - -Madame la Cantiniere was charmed. She felt she was falling in love with -ce brave Jean Boule _au grand galop_. This was a far finer man, and a -far more suitable husband for a hard-working Cantiniere than that lump -of a Rivoli, with his pockets always _pleine de vide_ and his mouth -always full of _langue vert_. A trifle on the elderly side perhaps, but -aristocrat _au bout des ongles_. Yes, decidedly grey as to the hair, -but then, how nice to be an old man's darling!--and Madame simpered, -bridled and tried to blush. - -"Speak up thou, Rivoli," she cried sharply. "Do not stand there like a -_blanc bec_ before a Sergeant-Major. Speak, _becasse_--or speak not -again to me." - -The Neapolitan darted a glance of hatred at her. - -"Peace, fat sow," he hissed, and added unwisely--"You wag your beard too -much." - -In that moment vanished for ever all possibility of Madame's trying an -Italian husband. "Sow" may be a term of endearment, but no gentleman -alludes to beards in the presence of a lady whose chin does not betray -her sex. - -Turning to his enemy, Rivoli struck an attitude and pointed to the door. - -"Go, dig your grave _ci-devant_," he said portentously, "and I will kill -you beside it, within the week." - -"Thanks," replied the Englishman, and invited his friends to join him in -a litre.... - -The barracks of the First Battalion of the Foreign Legion hummed and -buzzed that night, from end to end, in a ferment of excitement over the -two tremendous items of most thrilling and exciting news, to wit, that -there was among them a sheep in wolf's clothing--a girl in uniform--and, -secondly, that there was a duel toward, a duel in which no less a person -than the great Luigi Rivoli was involved. - -_Cherchez la femme_ was the game of the evening; and the catch-word of -the wits on encountering any bearded and grisled _ancien_ in corridor -_chambree_, canteen, or staircase, was-- - -"Art _thou_ the girl, petite?" - -The wrinkled old grey-beard, Tant-de-Soif, was christened Bebe -Fifinette, provided with a skirt improvised from a blanket, and -subjected to indignities. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - THE TEMPTATION OF SIR MONTAGUE MERLINE - - -Il Signor Luigi Rivoli strode forth from the Canteen in an unpleasant -frame of mind. - -"Curse the Englishman!" he growled. "Curse that hag behind the bar. -Curse that Russian _ragazza_. Curse that thrice-damned American...." - -In fact--curse everybody and everything. And among them, Il Signor -Luigi Rivoli cursed Carmelita for not making a bigger financial success -of her Cafe venture, and saving a Neapolitan gentlemen from the -undignified and humiliating position of having to lay siege to a cursed -fat French _bitche_, to get a decent living.... What a fool he'd been -that evening! He had lost ground badly with Madame, and he had lost -prestige badly with the Legionaries. He must regain both as quickly as -possible.... That accursed English devil must meet with an accident -within the week. It would not be the first time by hundreds that a -Legionnaire had been stabbed in the back for his sash and bayonet in the -_Village Negre_ and alleys of the Ghetto.... A little job for Edouard -Malvin, or Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat. Yes, a knife in the back would settle -the Englishman's hash quite effectually, and it would be the simplest -thing in the world to leave his body in one of those places to which -Legionaries are forbidden to go--for the very reason that they are -likely to remain in them for ever.... Curse that old cow of the -Canteen! Had he offended her beyond hope of reconciliation? The Holy -Saints forbid, for the woman was positively wealthy. Well, he must -bring the whole battery of his blandishments to bear and make one mighty -effort to win her fortune, hand and heart--in fact, he would give her an -ultimatum and settle things, one way or the other, for Carmelita was -beginning to show distinct signs of restiveness. Curse Carmelita! He -was getting very weary of her airs and jealousies--a franc a day did not -pay for it all. As soon as things were happily settled with Madame he -would be able to sell his rights and goodwill in Carmelita and her Cafe. -But one must not be precipitate. There must be no untimely killing of -geese that laid golden eggs. Carmelita must be kept quiet until -Madame's affair was settled. 'Twas but a clumsy fool that would lose -both the substance and the shadow--both the Canteen and the Cafe. If -Madame returned an emphatic and final No, to his ultimatum, the Cafe -must suffice until something better turned up. Luigi Rivoli and an -unaugmented halfpenny a day would be ill partners, and agree but -indifferently.... - -Revolving these things in his heart, the gentle Luigi became conscious -of a less exalted organ, and bethought him of dinner, Chianti, and his -cigar. He turned in the direction of the Cafe de la Legion, his usual -excellent appetite perhaps a trifle dulled and blunted by uncomfortable -thoughts as to what might happen should this grey English dog survive -the week, in spite of the attentions of Messieurs Malvin, Tou-tou, et -Cie. The choice between facing the rifle or revolver of the Company -marksman, or of being branded for ever as _Rivoli the Coward_ was an -unpleasant one.... Should he choose steel and have a dagger-fight with -sword-bayonets? No, he absolutely hated cold steel, and his mighty -strength would be almost as useless to him as in a shooting-duel. -Suppose he selected sword-bayonets, to be used as daggers--held his in -his left hand, seized his enemy's right wrist, broke his arm, and then -made a wrestle of it after all? He could strangle him or break his back -with ease. And suppose he missed his snatch at the Englishman's wrist? -The devil's bayonet would be through his throat in a second! ... But why -these vain and discomforting imaginings? Ten francs would buy a hundred -bravos in the _Village Negre_ and slums, if Malvin failed him.... - -He turned into Carmelita's alley and entered the Cafe. - -Carmelita, whose eyes had rarely left the door throughout the evening, -saw him as he entered, and her face lit up as does a lantern when the -wick is kindled. Here was her noble and beautiful Luigi. Away with all -wicked doubts and fears. Even the good Jean Boule was prejudiced -against her Luigi She would now hear his version of the discovery of the -Russian girl. How amused he would be to know that she had guessed -Mikhail's secret long ago. - -Rivoli passed behind the bar. Carmelita held open the door of her room, -and having closed it behind him, turned and flung her arms round his -neck. - -"Marito amato!" she murmured as she kissed him again and again. How -could she entertain these doubts of her Luigi in his absence? She was a -wicked, wicked girl, and undeserving of her fortune in having so -glorious a mate. She decided to utter no reproaches and ask no -questions concerning the discovery of the Russian girl. She would just -tell him that she had taken her in and that she counted on his help in -keeping the girl's secret and getting her away. - -"Beloved and beautiful Luigi of my heart," she said, as she placed a -steaming dish of macaroni before him, "I want your help once more. That -poor, foolish, little Mikhail Kyrilovitch has come and told me he is in -trouble, and begged my help. Fancy his thinking he could lead the life -that my Luigi leads--that of a soldier of France's fiercest Regiment. -Poor little fool.... Guess where he is at this moment, Luigi." - -With his mouth full, the noble Luigi intimated that he knew not, cared -not, and desired not to know. - -"I will tell my lord," murmured Carmelita, bending over his lordship's -huge and brawny shoulder, and kissing the tip of the ear into which she -whispered, "He is in my bed." - -Luigi had to think quickly. How much had the Russian girl told of what -had happened in the wash-house? Nothing, or Carmelita would not be in -this frame of mind. What did Carmelita know? Did she know that _he_ -knew? He sprang to his feet with an oath, and a well-assumed glare of -ferocity. He raised his fist above his head, and by holding his breath, -contrived to induce a dark flush and raise the veins upon his forehead. - -"In your bed, _puttana_?" he hissed. (Carmelita was overjoyed, Luigi -was angered and jealous. Where there is jealousy, there is love! Of -course, Luigi loved her as he had always done. How dared she doubt it? -Throwing her arms around his neck with a happy laugh, she reassured her -ruffled mate until he permitted himself to calm down and resume his -interrupted meal. Jean Boule had lied to her! Luigi knew nothing!...) -She went to the bar. - -Curse this Russian anarchist! But for her he would not have been in -danger of losing Madame, nor of finding a violent death. Curse -Carmelita, the stupid fool, for harbouring her. What should he do? -What could he say? If he thwarted Carmelita's plan, she would think he -desired the Russian wench for himself, and fly into a rage. She would -be a very fiend from hell if she were jealous! A pretty pass he would -be brought to if both Canteen and Cafe were closed to him! He had -better walk warily here, until he had ascertained the exact amount of -damage he had done by his most unwise allusion to Madame's whiskers. -(Never tell a cross-eyed man he squints.) But he must get even with -this Russian she-devil who had thwarted him in the lavatory, struck him -across the face, humiliated him before the Englishman, ruined his -prestige with his comrades and Madame, and brought him to the brink of -an abyss of danger.... He had an idea.... When Carmelita came into the -room again from the bar, she should have the shock of her life, and the -Russian _puttana_, another. Also the over-clever Jean Boule should -learn that the race is not always to the slow, nor the battle to the -weak.... Carmelita entered. Picking up his kepi, he extended his arms, -and with a smile of lofty sadness, bade her come and kiss him while she -might.... - -_While she might_! Carmelita turned pale, and Doubt again reared its -horrid head. Was this his way of beginning some tale concerning -separation? Some tale in which Madame la Cantiniere's name would appear -sooner or later? By the Blessed Virgin and the Holy Bambino, she would -tear the eyes from Luigi Rivoli's head, before they should look on that -French _meretrice_ as his wife. - -"While I may? Why do you say that, Luigi?" she asked in a dead voice. - -The ruffian felt uncomfortable as he watched those great, black eyes -blazing in the pinched, blanched face, and realised that there were -depths in Carmelita that he had not sounded--and would be ill-advised to -sound. What a devil she looked! Luigi Rivoli would do well to eat no -food to which Carmelita had had access, when once she knew the truth. -Luigi Rivoli would do well to watch warily, and, move quickly, should -Carmelita's hand go to the dagger in her garter when he told her that he -was thinking of settling in life. In fact it was a question whether his -life would be safe, so long as Carmelita was in Sidi-bel-Abbes, and he -was the husband of Madame! Another idea! _Madre de Dios_! A brilliant -one. Denounce Carmelita for aiding and abetting a deserter! Two birds -with one stone--Carmelita jailed and deported, and the Russian -recaptured--Luigi Rivoli rid of a danger from the one, and gratified by -a vengeance on the other! As these thoughts flashed through the -Italian's evil mind, he maintained his pose, and gently and sadly shook -his head. - -"While you may, indeed, my Carmelita," he murmured, and produced the -first of his brilliant ideas. "While you may. Do not think I reproach -you, Carmelita, for you have acted but in accordance with the dictates -of your warm young heart in taking in this girl. How were _you_ to know -that this would involve me in a duel to the death with the finest shot -in the Nineteenth Division, the most famous marksman in the army of -Africa?" - -"What?" gasped Carmelita. - -"What I say, my poor girl," was the reply, uttered with calm dignity. -"Your English friend, this Jean Boule, who fears to meet me face to -face, and man to man, with Nature's weapons, has forced a quarrel on me -over this Russian girl. He challenged me in the Canteen this night, and -I, who could break him like a dried stick, must stand up to be shot by -him, like a dog.... I do not blame _you_, Carmelita. How were you to -know?..." - -Carmelita suddenly sat down. - -"I do not understand," she whispered and sat agape. - -"The Englishman owns this girl...." - -"He brought her here," Carmelita interrupted, nodding her head. - -"Ha! I guessed it.... Yes, he owns her, and when I discovered the -shameless _puttana's_ sex he drew a pistol on me, an innocent, unarmed -man.... Did he tell you it was I who found the shameful hussy out? What -could I do against him empty-handed? ... And now I must fight him--and -he can put a bullet where he will.... So kiss me, while you may, -Carmelita." - -With a low cry the girl sprang into his arms. - -"My love! My love! My husband!" she wailed, and Luigi hoped that she -would release her clasp from about his neck in time for him to avoid -suffocation.... Curse all women--they were the cause of nine-tenths of -the sorrows of mankind. But one could not do without them.... Suddenly -Carmelita started back, and clapped her hands with a cry of glee. "The -Holy Virgin be praised! I have it! I have it! Unless Legionnaire Jean -Boule confesses his fault and begs my Luigi's pardon--out into the -gutter goes his Russian mistress," and Carmelita pirouetted with joy.... -Thank God! Thank God! Here was a solution, and she embraced her lover -again and again. Luigi's face was wreathed in smiles. _Excellente_! -That would do the trick admirably, and the thrice-accursed, and -ten-times-too-clever English _aristocratico_ should publicly apologise, -if he wished to save his mistress.... Yes, that would be very much -pleasanter than a mere stab-in-the-back revenge, as well as safer. -There is always some slight risk, even in Sidi-bel-Abbes, about -arranging a murder, and blackmail is always unpleasant--for the -blackmailed. Ho-ho! Ho-ho! Only to think of the cold and haughty -Englishman publicly apologising and begging Luigi, of his mercifulness, -to cancel the duel. _Corpo di Bacco_, he should do it on his knees. -"Rivoli the Coward," forsooth, and what of "Jean Boule the Coward," -after this? ... Yes; Jean Boule defeated, the Russian girl denounced -when clear of Carmelita's Cafe, if Madame proved unkind, and denounced -in the Cafe together with Carmelita if Madame accepted him. He himself -need not appear personally in the matter at all. And when Carmelita was -jailed or deported, and the Russian girl sent to Biribi, or turned into -a _figlia del reggimento_, the Englishman should still get it in the -back one dark night--and Signor Luigi Rivoli would wax fat behind -Madame's bar, until his five years' service was completed and he could -live happy ever after, upon the earnings of Madame.... - -Stroking her hair, he smiled superior upon Carmelita. - -"A clever thought, my little one," he murmured, "and bravely meant, but -your Luigi's days are numbered. Would that proud, cold _aristocratico_ -eat the words he shouted before half the Company? No! He will leave the -girl to shift for herself." - -Carmelita's face fell. - -"Do not say so," she begged. "No! No! He would not do that. You know -how these English treat women. You know the sort of man this Jean Boule -is," and for a moment, involuntarily, Carmelita contrasted her Luigi -with Il Signor Jean Boule in the matter of their chivalry and honour, -and ere she could thrust the thought from her mind, she had realised the -comparison to be unfavourable to her lover. - -"Luigi," she said, "I feel it in my heart that, since the Englishman has -said that he will save his mistress, he will do it at any cost -whatsoever to himself.... Go, dearest Luigi, go now, and I will send to -him, and say I must see him at once. He will surely come, thinking that -I send on behalf of this Russian fool." - -And with a last vehement embrace and burning kiss, she thrust him before -her into the bar and watched him out of the Cafe. - -Le Legionnaire Jean Boule was not among the score or so of Legionaries -who sat drinking at the little tables, nor were either of his friends. -Whom could she send? Was that funny English _ribaldo_, Legionnaire -Erbiggin, there? ... No.... Ah!--There sat the poor Grasshopper. He -would do. She made her way with laugh and jest and badinage to where he -sat, _faisant Suisse_ as usual. - -"Bonsoir, cher Monsieur Cigale," she said. "Would you do me a -kindness?" - -The Grasshopper rose, thrust his hands up the sleeves of his tunic as -far as his elbows, bowed three times, and then knelt upon the ground and -smote it thrice with his forehead. Rising, he poured forth a torrent of -some language entirely unknown to Carmelita. - -"Speak French or Italian, cher Monsieur Cigale," she said. - -"A thousand pardons, Signora," replied the Grasshopper. "But you will -admit it is not usual for a Mandarin of the Highest Button to speak -French. I was saying that the true kindness would be your allowing me -to do you a kindness. May I doom your _wonk_[#] of an enemy to the -death of the Thousand Cuts?" - - -[#] Chinese pariah dog. - - -"Not this evening, dear Mandarin, thank you," replied Carmelita; "but -you can carry a message of the highest military importance. It is well -known that you are a soldier of soldiers, and have never yet failed in -any military duty." - -The Mandarin bowed thrice. - -"Will you go straight and find le Legionnaire Jean Boule of your -Company, and tell him to come to me at once. Say Carmelita sent you and -tell him you have the countersign:--'Our Ally, Russia, is in danger!'" - -"I am honoured and I fly," was the reply. "I will send no official of -the Yamen, but go myself. Should the Po Sing, they of the Hundred -Names, the [Greek: _hoi polloi_], beset my path I will cry, '_Sha! -Sha!_--Kill! Kill!--and scatter them before me. Should the _kwei tzu_, -the Head Dragon from Hell, or the Military Police (and they are _tung -yen_ you know--of the same race and tarred with the same brush) impede -me, they too shall die the death of the Wire Net," and the Grasshopper -placed his kepi on his head. - -Carmelita knew that John Bull would be with her that evening, and that -the risk of eight days' _salle de police_, for being out after tattoo, -would not deter him. - -In a fever of anxiety, impatience, hope and fear, Carmelita paced up and -down behind her bar, like a panther in its cage. One thought shone -brightly on the troubled turmoil of her soul. Luigi loved her still; -Luigi so loved her that he had been ready to strike her dead as the tide -of jealousy surged in his soul. That was the sort of love that -Carmelita understood. Let him take her by the throat until she -choked--let him seize her by the hair and drag her round the room--let -him stab her in the breast, so it be for jealousy. Better Luigi's knife -in Carmelita's throat than Luigi's lips on Madame's face. Thank God! -Luigi had suffered those pangs--on hearing of a Russian boy in her -room--that she herself had suffered on hearing Malvin and the rest -couple Luigi's name with Madame's. Thank God! that Luigi knew jealousy -even as she did herself. Where there is jealousy, there is love.... - -And then Carmelita struck her forehead with her clenched fists and laid -her head upon her folded arms with a piteous groan. Luigi had been -acting. Luigi had _pretended_ that jealousy of the Russian. Luigi knew -Mikhail Kyrilovitch was a girl--he had fooled her, and once again doubt -raised its cruel head in Carmelita's poor distracted mind. "Oh Luigi! -Luigi!" she sobbed beneath her breath. And then again a ray of -comfort--the _bambino_. Merciful Mother of God grant that it might be -true, and that her bright and golden hopes were based on more solid -foundation than themselves. Why had she not told him that evening? But -no, she was glad she hadn't. She would keep the wonderful secret until -such moment as it really seemed to her that it should be produced as the -gossamer fairy chain, weightless but unbreakable, that should bind them -together, then and forever, in its indissoluble bonds. Yes, she must -force herself to believe devoutly and implicitly in the glorious and -beautiful secret, and she must treasure it up as long as possible and -whisper it in Luigi's ear if it should ever seem that, for a moment, her -Luigi strayed from the path of justice and honesty to his unwedded wife. - -Faith again triumphed over Doubt. - -These others were jealous of her Luigi, or mistook his natural and -beautiful politeness to Madame, for overtures and love-making. Could -not her Luigi converse with, and smile upon, Madame la Cantiniere -without setting all their idle and malicious tongues clacking and -wagging? As for this Russian wretch, Luigi had given her no more -thought than to the dust beneath his feet, and she should go forth into -the gutter, in Carmelita's night-shift, before her protector should -injure a hair of Luigi's head. She was surprised at Jean Boule, but -there--men were all alike, all except her Luigi, that is. How deceived -she had been in the kindly old Englishman! ... Fancy coming to her with -their cock-and-bull story.... - -The voice of the man of whom she was thinking broke in upon her reverie. - -"What is it, little one? Nothing wrong about Olga?" - -"Come in here, Signor Jean Boule," said Carmelita, and led the way into -her room. - -The Englishman involuntarily glanced round the little sanctum into which -no man save Luigi Rivoli had been known to penetrate, and noted the -clean tablecloth, the vase with its bunch of krenfell and oleander -flowers, the tiny, tidy dressing table, the dilapidated chest of -drawers, bright oleographs, cheap rug, crucifix and plaster Madonna--a -room still suggestive of Italy. - -Turning, Carmelita faced the Englishman and pointed an accusing finger -at his face, her great black eyes staring hard and straight into the -narrowed blue ones. - -"Signor Jean Boule," she said, "you have played a trick on me; you have -deceived me; you have killed my faith in Englishmen--yes, in all -men--except my Luigi. Why did you bring your mistress to me and beg my -help while you knew you meant to kill my husband, because he had found -you out? Oh, Monsieur Jean Boule--but you have hurt me so. And I had -thought you like a father--so good a man, yes, like a holy padre, a -_prete_. Oh, Signor Jean Boule, are you like those others, loving -wickedly, killing wickedly? Are there _no_ good honest men--except my -Luigi?..." - -The Englishman shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, twisting his -kepi in his fingers, a picture of embarrassment and misery. How could -he persuade this girl that the man was a double-dealing, villainous -blackguard? And if he could do so, why should he? Why destroy her faith -and her happiness together? If this hound failed in his attempt upon the -celibacy of Madame, he would very possibly marry the girl, and, in his -own interests, treat her decently. Apparently he had kept her love for -years--why should she not go on worshipping the man she believed her -lover to be, until the end? But no, it was absurd. How should Luigi -Rivoli ever treat a woman decently? Sooner or later he was certain to -desert her. What would Carmelita's life be when Luigi Rivoli had the -complete disposal of it? Sooner or later she must know what he was, and -better sooner than later. A thousand times better that she should find -him out now, while there was a risk of his marrying her.... It would be -a really good deed to save Carmelita from the clutches of Luigi Rivoli. -Stepping toward her, he laid his hands upon the girl's shoulders and -gazed into her eyes with that look which he was wont to fasten upon the -Grasshopper to soothe and influence him. - -"Listen to me, Carmelita," he said, "and be perfectly sure that every -word I say to you is absolutely true.... I did not know that Mikhail -Kyrilovitch was a woman more than half an hour before you did. I only -knew it when she rushed to me for protection from Luigi Rivoli, who had -discovered her and behaved to her like the foul beast he is. I have -challenged him to fight me in the only way in which it is possible for -me to fight him, and I mean to kill him. I am going to kill him partly -for your sake, partly for my own, and partly for that of every wretched -recruit and decent man in the Company." - -Carmelita drew back. - -"Coward!" she hissed. "You only dare face my Luigi with a gun in your -hand." - -"I am not a coward, Carmelita. It is Rivoli who is the coward. He is -by far the strongest man in the Regiment, and is a professional -wrestler. He trades on this to bully and terrorise all who do not -become his servants. He is a brutal ruffian, and he is a coward, for he -would do anything rather than meet me in fair fight. He is only a -_risquetout_ where there are no weapons and the odds are a hundred to -one in his favour.... If I hear one more word about my trading on my -marksmanship, he shall fight me with revolvers across a handkerchief. -Besides, I have told him he can choose any weapon in the world." - -"And now hear _me_," replied Carmelita, "and I would say it if it were -my last word. Either you take all that back and apologise to my Luigi, -or out into the night goes this Russian girl," and she pointed with the -dramatic gesture of the excited Southerner to the _bassourab_-cloth -which screened off the little inner chamber which was just big enough to -hold Carmelita's bed. - -The Englishman started. - -"You don't mean that, Carmelita!" he asked anxiously. - -The girl laughed bitterly, cruelly. - -"Do you think a thousand Russians would weigh with me against one hair -of my husband's head?" she answered. "Give me your solemn promise now -and here, or I will do more than throw her out, I will denounce her. I -will give her to the Turcos and Spahis. I will have her dragged to the -Village Negre." - -"Hush! Carmelita. I am ashamed of you. Are you mad?" said John Bull -sternly. - -"I am sorry," was the reply. "Yes, I _am_ mad, Signor Jean Boule. I am -being driven mad by this horrible plot against my Luigi. Why are you -all his enemies? It is because you are jealous of him and because you -fear him--but you shall not hurt him. This, at least, I say and mean: -Take the Russian girl away with you now, or promise me you will never -fight my husband with lead or steel." - -"I cannot promise it, Carmelita. I have challenged Rivoli publicly and -must fight him. To draw out now would brand me as a coward, would make -him twice the bully he is, and would be a cruelty to you.... You ask too -much, you ask an impossibility. I must make some other plan for Olga -Kyrilovitch." - -Carmelita staggered, and stared open-mouthed. She could not believe her -ears. - -"What?" she gasped. - -"The girl must go elsewhere," repeated the Englishman. Carmelita -appeared to be about to faint. Could he mean it? Was it possible? Was -her brilliant plan failing? - -"Will you lend the girl some clothes?" asked John Bull. - -"Most certainly will I not," she whispered. - -"Then please go and tell her to dress again in uniform," was the answer, -as he pointed to the uniform lying folded on a chair. - -"And will you ruin her chance of escape, Signor Jean Boule?" asked -Carmelita. "Is _that_ how Englishmen treat women who throw themselves -on their mercy? Do you put your own vengeance before her safety and -honour and life?" - -"No, Carmelita, I do not," answered the man. "I am in a terrible -position, and am going to choose the lesser of two evils. It is better -that I take the girl away and help her brother to desert with her, than -let Rivoli wreck your life, break your heart, and doubly regain the -bully's prestige and power to make weaker comrades' lives a misery and a -burden. He, at any rate, shall be the cause of no more suicides." - -Carmelita flung herself upon the hideous horsehair couch and burst into -a torrent of hysterical tears. What could she say to this hard, cold -man? What could she do? What _could_ she do? - -John Bull, suffering acutely as he had ever suffered in his life, stood -silent, and wondered how far the wish was father to the thought that, in -this ghastly dilemma, it was his duty to stand firm in his attitude -toward Rivoli. For once, the thing he longed to do was the right thing -to do, and the course which he would loathe to follow was the wrong -course for him to pursue. Olga Kyrilovitch had brought her fate upon -herself, and he had no more responsibility to her than the common duty -of lending a helping hand to a neighbour in trouble. Had there been no -other consideration, he would have helped her to the utmost of his -power, without counting cost or risk. When it came to a clear choice -between saving Carmelita, protecting recruits, making a stand for -self-respect and decency, and redeeming his own word and honour and -reputation on the one hand, and, on the other hand, helping this rash -and lawless Russian girl, there could be no hesitation. - -Carmelita sprang to her feet. - -"I will denounce her," she cried. "I will throw open those shutters and -scream and scream until there is a crowd, and they shall have her in her -nightdress. _Now_ will you spare my husband?" - -"You'll do nothing of the kind," answered John Bull calmly. "You know -you would regret it all the days of your life. Is this Italian -hospitality, womanliness, and honour? Be ashamed of yourself, to talk -so. Be fair. Be just. Who needs protection most--your bully, or this -wretched girl?" and here Legionary John Bull showed more than his wonted -wisdom in dealing with women. Stepping up to Carmelita he seized her by -the shoulders and shook her somewhat sharply, saying as he did so, "And -understand once and for all, little fool, I keep my promise to Luigi -Rivoli--whatever you do." - -In return for her shaking, the surprising Carmelita smiled up into the -old soldier's face, and clasped her hands behind his head. - -"Monsieur Jean Boule," she said, "I think I would have loved my father -like I love you--but how you try to hide the soft, kind heart with the -hard, cruel face!" and Carmelita gave John Bull the first kiss he had -received for over a quarter of a century. - -He pushed her from him roughly. Carmelita was glad. This was a -thousand times better than that glacial immobility. This meant that he -was moved. - -"Save Olga's life, Babbo," she whispered coaxingly. "Save Olga and make -me happy. Don't ruin two women for fear men should not think you brave. -Who doubts the courage of the man who wears the _medaille_? The man who -had the courage to challenge Luigi Rivoli can have the courage to -withdraw it if it suits him." - -"The man who killed Luigi Rivoli would be your best friend, Carmelita," -was the reply, "and Olga Kyrilovitch must be saved in some other way. I -must keep my word. It is due to others as well as to myself that I do -so." - -The two regarded each other without realising that it was across an -abyss of immeasurable width and unfathomable depth. He was a man, she -was a woman; he a Northerner, she a Southerner. To him honour came -first; and without love there could be, she thought, neither honour nor -happiness nor life itself. - -How should these two understand each other, these two whose souls spoke -languages differing as widely as those spoken by their tongues? The -woman understood and appreciated the rectitude and honour of the man as -little as he realised and fathomed the depth and overwhelming intensity -of her love and devotion. - -Carmelita now made a great mistake and took a false step--a mistake -which turned to her advantage and a false step which led whither she so -yearned to go. For Luigi's sake she played the temptress. In defence -of her virtue let it be said that, as once before, she believed that her -Luigi's life was actually at stake; in defence of her judgment, let it -be remembered that she had grown up in a hard school, and had reason to -believe that no man does something for nothing where a woman is -concerned. She advanced with her bewitching smile, took the -Englishman's face between her hands, drew his head down and kissed him -upon the lips. - -The Englishman blushed as he returned her kiss, and laughed to find -himself blushing as the thought struck him that he might have had a -daughter older than Carmelita. The girl misunderstood the kiss and -smile. Alas! all men were alike in one thing and the best were like the -worst. She put her lips to his ear and whispered.... - -John Bull drew back. Placing his hands upon the girl's shoulders, he -gazed into her eyes. Carmelita blushed painfully, and dropped her eyes -before the man's searching stare. She heaved a sobbing sigh. Yes, all -alike, all had their price--and any pretty woman could pay it. All -alike--even grey-haired, kind old Babbo Jean Boule, who looked as though -he might be her grandfather. - -She felt his hand beneath her chin, raising her face to his. Again he -gazed into her eyes and slowly shook his head. - -"And is this what men and Life have taught you, Carmelita?" he said.... - -A horrid fear gripped Carmelita's heart. Could she be wrong? Could she -have offered herself in vain? Could this man's pride and hatred be so -great that the bribe was not enough? - -"And you would do this--_you_, Carmelita; for that filthy blackguard?" - -"I would do anything for my Luigi. Sell me his life and I will pay you -now, the highest price a woman can. Kiss me on the lips, dear Monsieur -Jean, and I will trust you to keep your part of the bargain--never to -fight nor attack my Luigi with a weapon in your hand. Kiss me! Kiss -me!" - -The Englishman drew the pleading girl to him and kissed her on the -forehead. She flung her arms around his neck in a transport of joy and -relief. - -"You will sell me my Luigi's life?" she cried. "Oh praise and thanks to -the Mother of God. You _will_?" - -"I will _give_ you your Luigi's life," said Sir Montague Merline, and -went out. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - THE CAFE AND THE CANTEEN - - -As the door closed behind the departing John Bull, the heavy _purdah_ -between the sitting-room and the tiny side-chamber or alcove in which -was Carmelita's bed, was pushed aside, and Olga Kyrilovitch, barefooted -and dressed in night attire belonging to Carmelita, entered the room. -On the sofa lay Carmelita sobbing, her hands pressed over her eyes. - -Looking more boy-like than ever, with her short hair, the Russian girl -advanced noiselessly and shook Carmelita sharply by the shoulder. - -"You fool," she hissed between clenched teeth. "You stupid fool. You -blind, stubborn, hopeless _fool_!" Carmelita sat up. This was language -she could understand, and a situation with which she could deal. - -"Yes?" she replied without resentment, "and why?" - -"Those two men.... Compare them... I heard every word--I could not -help it. I could not come out--I should not have been safe, even with -you here, with that vile, filthy Italian in the room, nor could I come, -for shame, like this, while the Englishman was here.... _Why did you -let him say he does not love me?_" and the girl burst into tears. -Carmelita stared. - -"Oho! you love him, do you?" quoth she.... "Then if you know what love -is, why do you abuse the man _I_ love?" - -The girl raised her impassioned tear-stained face to Carmelita's. - -"Will nothing persuade you, little fool?" she cried, "that that Italian -beast no more loves you than--than Jean Boule loves me--that he is -playing with you, that he is battening on you, and that, the moment the -fat Canteen woman accepts him, he will marry her and you will see him no -more? Why should Jean Boule lie to you? Why should the American? Why -should I?--Ask any Legionary in Sidi." - -Carmelita clenched her little fist and appeared to be about to strike -the Russian girl. - -"Stop!" continued Olga, and pointed to the uniform which lay folded on -the chair. "See! Prove your courage and prove us all liars if you can. -Put on that uniform, disguise yourself, and go to the Canteen any night -in the week. If your Rivoli is not there behind the bar, hand-in-glove -with Madame, turn me into the street--or leave me at the mercy of your -Rivoli. There now...." - -"_I will_," said Carmelita, and then screamed and laughed, laughed and -screamed, as her overwrought nerves and brain gave way in a fit of -hysterics. - -When she recovered, Olga Kyrilovitch discovered that the seed which she -had sown had taken root, and that it was Carmelita's unalterable -intention to pay a visit to the Canteen on the very next evening. - -"For my Luigi's own sake I will spy upon him," she said, "and to prove -all his vile accusers wrong. When I have done it I will confess to him -with tears and throw myself at his feet. He shall do as he likes with -me.... But he will understand that it was only to disprove these lies -that I did it, and not because I for one moment doubted him." - -But doubt him Carmelita did. As soon as her decision was taken and -announced, she allowed Olga to talk on as she pleased, and insensibly -came to realise that at the bottom of her heart she knew John Bull to be -incapable of deceiving her. Why should he? Why should all the -Legionaries, except Rivoli's own hirelings, take up the same attitude -towards him? Why should there be no man to speak well of him save such -men as Borges, Hirsch, Bauer, Malvin, and the others, all of whom -carried their vileness in their faces? As her doubts and fears -increased, so did her wrath and excitement, until she strode up and down -the little room like a caged pantheress, and Olga feared for her sanity -and her own safety. And then again, Love would triumph, and she would -beat her breast and wildly reproach herself for her lack of faith, and -overwhelm Olga with a deluge of vituperation and accusation. - -At length came the relief of quiet weeping, and, having whispered to -Olga her Great Secret, or rather her hopes of having one to tell, she -sobbed herself to sleep on the girl's shoulder, to dream of the most -wonderful of _bambinos_. - -Meanwhile, John Bull spent one of the wretchedest evenings of a wretched -life. Returning to his _chambree_ to find himself hailed and acclaimed -"hero," he commenced at once, with his usual uncompromising directness -and simplicity, to inform all and sundry, who mentioned the subject, -that there would be no duel. It hurt him most of all to see the face of -his friend Rupert fall and harden, as he informed him that he could not -fight Rivoli after all. On his explaining the position to him, Reginald -Rupert, decidedly shocked, remarked-- - -"_Your_ business, of course," and privately wondered whether _les beaux -yeux_ of Carmelita, or of Olga, had shed the light in which his friend -had come to see things so differently. Surely, Carmelita's best friend -would be the person who saved her from Rivoli; and, if it were really -Olga whom Bull were considering, there were more ways of killing a cat -than choking it with melted butter. Anyhow, he didn't envy John Bull, -nor yet the weaker vessels of the Seventh Company. What would John Bull -do, if, on hearing of his change of mind, Rivoli simply took him and put -him across his knee? Would his promise to Carmelita sustain him through -that or similar indignities? After all, a challenge is a challenge; and -some people would consider that the prior engagement to Rivoli could not -in honour be cancelled afterwards by an engagement with Carmelita or -anybody else. - -No. To the young mind of Rupert this was not "the clean potato," and he -was disappointed in his friend. As they undressed, in silence, an idea -struck him, and he turned to that gentleman. - -"I say, look here, Bull, old chap," quoth he. "You'll of course do as -you think best in the matter, and so shall I. I'm going to challenge -Rivoli myself. I shall follow your admirable example and challenge him -publicly, and I shall add point to it by wasting a litre of wine on his -face, which I shall also smack with what violence I may. I am not -Company Marksman like you, but, as Rivoli knows, I am a First Class -shot. I shall say I have been brooding over his breaking my back, and -now want to fight him on even terms." - -A look of pain crossed the face of the old soldier. - -"Rupert," he said, rising and laying his hand on his friend's shoulder, -"you'll do nothing of the kind.... Not, that is, if you value my -friendship in the least, or have the slightest regard for me. Do you -not understand that I have given Carmelita my word that I will neither -fight Rivoli with a weapon in my hand, nor attack him with one? Would -she not instantly and naturally suppose that I had got you to do it -_for_ me? ... Would anything persuade her to the contrary?" - -"Is he to go unpunished then? Is he to ride roughshod over us all? -He'll be ten times worse than before. You know he'll ascribe your -withdrawal to cowardice--and so will everybody else," was the reply. - -"They will," agreed John Bull. - -"What's to be done then?" - -"I don't know, but I'll tell you what is not to be done. No friend of -mine is to challenge Rivoli to a duel." - -The Bucking Bronco entered. - -"Say, John," he drawled, "I jest bin and beat up Mister Mounseer Malvin, -I hev'. 'Yure flappin' yure mouth tew much,' I ses. '_Vous frappez -votre bouche trop_,' I ses. 'Yew come off it, me lad,' I ses. 'Yew -jes' wipe off yure chin some. _Effacez votre menton_,' I ses. Then I -slugs him a little one." - -"What was it all about, Buck?" enquired Rupert. - -"Do yew know what the little greasy tin-horn of a hobo was waggin' his -chin about? Sed as haow yew was _a-climbin' down and a-takin' back the -challenge to our Loojey_! I told him ef he didn't wipe off his chin and -put some putty on his gas-escape I'd do five-spot in Biribi fer him. -'Yes, Mounseer Malvin,' I ses when I'd slugged him, 'I'll git the _as de -pique_[#] on my collar for yew!' ... '_It's true_,' he snivelled. '_It's -true_,' and lays on the groun' so as I shan't slug him agin. So I comes -away--not seein' why I should do the two-step on nuthin' at the end of a -rope for a dod-gasted little bed-bug like Mounseer Malvin." - - -[#] Mark of the Zephyrs. - - -"It _is_ true, Buck," replied John Bull. - -"Well then, I wisht I'd stayed and plugged him some more," was the -remarkable reply. - -"Rivoli told Carmelita about the duel, and I've promised her I'd let him -go," continued John Bull. - -"Then yure a gosh-dinged fool, John," said the Bucking Bronco. "Yew -ain't to be trusted where wimmin's about. It would hev' bin the best -day's work yew ever done fer Carmelita ef you'd let daylight through -thet plug-ugly old bluff. He'll lie ter her from Revelley to Taps[#] -until old Mother Canteen takes him into her shebang fer good--and then -as like as not, he'll put Carmelita up at auction.... There'll be no -holding our Loojey now, John. I should smile. Anybody as thinks our -Loojey'll make it easy fer yew has got another think comin'. It's a -cinch. He'll give yew a dandy time, John. What's a-bitin' yew anyway?" - - -[#] Last Post. So called (in the American Army) because it is the -signal to leave the Canteen and turn off the beer-taps. - - -"Carmelita," was the reply. - -"I allow the right stunt fer eny pal o' Carmelita's is ter fill our -Loojey up with lead as you perposed ter do.... Look at here, John. -_I'll_ do it. I could hit all Loojey's buttons with my little gun, one -after the other, at thirty yards--and I'd done it long ago, but I know'd -it meant the frozen mit fer mine from Carmelita, and I wasn't man enuff -ter kill him fer Carmelita's good and make my name mud to her fer -keeps." - -"Same thing now, Buck," was the answer. "Challenge Luigi, and you can -never set foot in the Cafe de la Legion again. If you killed him--it -would be Carmelita's duty in life to find you and stab you." - -"Sure thing, John--an' what about yew? Ef our Looj was to be 'Rivoli -the Coward' ef he wouldn't fight, who's to be 'coward' now? ... Yew've -bitten off more'n yew can chew." - -"Anyhow, Buck, if you're any friend of mine--you'll let Rivoli alone. -_Qui facit per alium facit per se_, and that's Dutch for 'I might as -well kill Rivoli with my own hand as kill him through yours.'" - -The Bucking Bronco broke into song-- - - "But serpose an' serpose, - Yure Hightaliand lad shouldn't die? - Nor the bagpipes shouldn't play o'er him - Ef I punched him in the eye!" - -chanted he, as he placed his beloved "gun"--an automatic pistol--under -his pillow. "I'll beat him up, Johnnie. Fer Carmelita's sake I ain't -shot him up, an' fer her sake and yourn I won't shoot him up now, but -the very first time as he flaps his mouth about this yer dool, I'll beat -him up--and there'll be _some_ fight," and the Bucking Bronco dived into -his "flea-bag." - -The next day the news spread throughout the _caserne_ of the First -Battalion of the Legion that the promised treat was off, the duel -between the famous Luigi Rivoli and the Englishman, John Bull, would not -take place, the latter, in spite of the publicity and virulence of his -challenge, having apologised. - -The news was ill received. In the first place the promise of a -brilliant break in the monotony of Depot life was broken. In the second -place, the undisputed reign of a despotic and brutal tyrant would -continue and grow yet heavier and more insupportable; while, in the -third place, it was not in accordance with the traditions of the Legion -that a man should fiercely challenge another in public, and afterwards -apologise and withdraw. Italian shares boomed and shot sky-high, while -John Bulls became a drug in the market. - -That evening the Bucking Bronco, for the first time in his life, -received a message from Carmelita, a message which raised him to the -seventh heaven of expectation and hope, while the sanguine blood coursed -merrily through his veins. - -Carmelita wanted him. At five o'clock without fail, Carmelita would -expect him at the Cafe. She needed his help and relied upon him for -it.... _Gee_-whillikins! She should have it. - -At half-past five that evening, the Bucking Bronco entered le Cafe de la -Legion and stared in amazement at seeing a strange Legionary behind -Carmelita's bar. He was a small, slight man in correct walking-out -dress--a blue tunic, red breeches and white spats. His kepi was pulled -well down over a small, intelligent face, the most marked features of -which were very broad black eyebrows, and a biggish dark moustache. The -broad chin-strap of the kepi was down, and pressed the man's chin up -under the large moustache beneath which the strap passed. The soldier -had a squint and the Bucking Bronco had always experienced a dislike and -distrust of people so afflicted. - -"An' what'n Hell are _yew_ a-doin' thar, yew swivel-eyed tough?" he -enquired, and repeated his enquiry in Legion French. - -The Legionary laughed--a ringing peal which was distinctly familiar. - -"Don't yew git fresh with me, Bo, or I'll come roun' thar an' improve -yure squint till you can see in each ear-'ole," said the American, -trying to "place" the man. - -Again the incongruous tinkling peal rang out and the Bucking Bronco -received the shock of his life as Carmelita's voice issued through the -big moustache. Words failed him as he devoured the girl with his eyes. - -"Dear Monsieur Bouckaing Bronceau," said she. "Will you walk out -to-night with the youngest recruit in the Legion?" - -The Bronco still stared agape. - -"I am in trouble," continued Carmelita, "and I turn to you for help." - -The light of hope shone in the American's eyes. - -"Holy Poker!" said he. "God bless yure sweet eyes, fer sayin' so, -Carmelita. But why _me_? Have yew found yure Loojey out, at last? Why -me?" - -"I turn to you for help, Monsieur Bronco," said the girl, "because you -have told me a hundred times that you love me. Love gives. It is not -always asking, asking, asking. Now give me your help. I want to get at -the truth. I want to clear a good and honest man from a web of lies. -Take me to the Canteen with you to-night. They say my Luigi goes there -to see Madame la Cantiniere. They say he flirts and drinks with her, -that he helps her there, and serves behind her bar. They even dare to -say that he asks her to marry him...." - -"It's true," interrupted the Bucking Bronco. - -"Very well--then take me there now. My Luigi has sworn to me a hundred -times that he never sets foot in Madame's Canteen, that he would not -touch her filthy Algerian wine--my Luigi who drinks only the best -Chianti from Home. Take me there and prove your lies. Take me now, and -either you and your friends, or else Luigi Rivoli, shall never cross my -threshold again." Carmelita's voice was rising, tears were starting to -her eyes, and her bosom rose and fell as no man's ever did. - -"Easy, honey," said the big American. "Ef yure gwine ter carry on right -here, what'll you do in the Canteen when yew see yure Loojey right thar -doin' bar-tender fer the woman he's a-doin' his damnedest to marry?" - -"_Do?_" answered Carmelita in a low tense voice. "Do? I would be cold -as ice. I would be still and hard as one of the statues in my own -Naples. All Hell would be in my breast, but a Hell of frozen fire do -you understand, and I would creep away. Like a silent spirit I would -creep away--but I would be a spirit of vengeance. To Monsieur Jean -Boule would I go and I would say, 'Kill him! Kill him! For the love of -God and the Holy Virgin and the Blessed Bambino, _kill_ him--and let me -come and stamp upon his face.' That is what I would say, Monsieur -Bronco." - -The American covered the girl's small brown hand with his huge paw. - -"Carmelita, honey," he whispered. "Don't go, little gel--don't go. May -I be struck blind and balmy right hyar, right naow, ef I tell you a word -of a lie. Every night of his life he's thar, afore he comes down hyar -with lies on his lips to yew. Don't go. Take my word fer it, an' John -Bull's word, and young Rupert's word. They're White Men, honey, they -wouldn't lie ter yew. Believe what we tell yew, and give ole John Bull -back his promise, an' let him shoot-up this low-lifer rattlesnake...." - -"I will see with my own eyes," said Carmelita--adding with sound -feminine logic, "and if he's not there to-night, I'll know that you have -all lied to me, and that he never was there--and never, never, never -again shall one of you enter my house, or my Legionaries shall nail you -by the ears to the wall with their bayonets.... Shame on me, to doubt -my Luigi for a moment." - -The American gave way. - -"Come on then, little gel," he said. "P'raps it's fer the best." - - - Sec.2 - -Entering the Canteen that evening for his modest litre, 'Erb caught -sight of his good friend, the Bucking Bronco, seated beside a Legionary -whom 'Erb did not know. The American beckoned and 'Erb emitted a joyous -sound to be heard more often in the Ratcliffe Highway than in the wilds -of Algeria. Apparently his pal's companion was, or had been, in funds, -for his head reposed upon his folded arms. - -"Wotto, Bucko!" exclaimed the genial 'Erb. "We a-goin' to ketch this -pore bloke's complaint? Luvvus! Wish I got enuff to git as ill as wot -'e is." - -"Sit down t'other side of him, 'Erb," responded the American. "We may -hev' to help the gay-cat to bed. He's got a jag. Tight as a tick--an' -lef me in the lurch with two-francs' worth to drink up." - -"Bless 'is 'eart," exclaimed 'Erb. "I dunno wevver 'e's a-drinkin' to -drahn sorrer or wevver he's a-drinkin' to keep up 'is 'igh sperrits--but -he shan't say as 'ow 'Erb 'Iggins didn't stand by 'im to the larst--the -larst boll' I mean," and 'Erb filled the large glass which the American -reached from the bar. - -"'Ere's 'ow, Cocky," he shouted in the ear of the apparently drunken -man, giving him a sharp nudge in the ribs with his elbow. - -The drunken man gasped at the blow, gave a realistic hiccough and -murmured: "A votre sante, Monsieur." - -"Carn't the pore feller swaller a little more, Buck?" enquired 'Erb with -great concern. "Fency two francs--an' he's 'ad ter giv' up! ... Never -mind, Ole Cock," he roared again in the ear of the drunkard, "p'raps -you'll be able ter go ahtside in a minnit an' git it orf yer chest. Then -yer kin start afresh. See? ... 'Ope hon, 'ope hever.... 'Sides," he -added, as a cheering afterthought, "It'll tiste as good a-comin' up as -wot it did a-goin' dahn." He then blew vinously into his mouth-organ -and settled down for a really happy evening. - -A knot of Legionaries, friends of Rivoli, stood at the bar talking with -Madame. - -"Here he comes," said one of them, leaning with his back against the -bar. "Ask him." - -Luigi Rivoli strode up, casting to right and left the proud glances of -the consciously Great. - -"Bonsoir, ma belle," quoth he to Madame. "And how is the Soul of the -Soul of Luigi Rivoli?" - -The drunken man, sitting between the Bucking Bronco and le Legionnaire -'Erbiggin, moved his head. He lay with the right side of it upon his -folded arms and his flushed face toward the bar. His eyes were -apparently closed in sottish slumber. - -Madame la Cantiniere fixed Rivoli with a cold and beady eye. (She -"wagged her beard" too much, did she? Oho!) - -"And since when have I been the Soul of the Soul of Luigi Rivoli?" she -enquired. - -"Can you ask it, My Own?" was the reply. "Did not the virgin fortress -of my heart capitulate to the trumpet of your voice when first its -musical call rang o'er its unsealed walls?" - -"Pouf!" replied Madame, bridling.... (What a way he had with him, and -what a fine figure of a man he was, but "_beards_" quotha!) Raising the -flap of the zinc-covered bar, Luigi, as usual, passed within and poured -himself a bumper of wine. Raising the glass-- - -"To the brightest eyes and sweetest face that I ever looked upon," he -toasted, and drank. - -Madame simpered. Her wrath had, to some extent, evaporated.... Not -that she would ever _dream_ of marrying him. No! that "beard" would be -ever between them. No! No! He had dished himself finally. He had, as -it were, hanged himself in that beard as did Absalom in the branches of -a tree. The price he should pay for that insult was the value of her -Canteen and income. There was balm and satisfaction in the thought. -Still--until his successor were chosen, or rather, the successor of the -late-lamented, so cruelly, if skilfully, carved by those _sacrepans_ and -_galopins_ of Arabs--the assistance of the big man as waiter and -chucker-out should certainly not be refused. By no means. - -"And what is this tale I hear of you and le Legionnaire Jean Boule?" -enquired Madame. "They say that the Neapolitan trollop of Le Cafe de la -Legion (_sous ce nom-la!_) has begged your life of him." - -The drunken man slowly opened his eyes and Rivoli put down his glass -with a fierce frown. - -"And who invented that paltry, silly lie?" he asked, and laughed -scornfully. Madame pointed a fat forefinger at the Bucking Bronco who -leant, head on fist, regarding Rivoli with a sardonic smile. - -"Sure thing, Loojey. I'm spreadin' the glad joyous tidin's, as haow -yure precious life has been saved, all over the whole caboodle," and -proceeded to translate. - -"Oh, is _that_ the plot?" replied the Italian. "Is _that_ the best lie -the gang of you could hatch? Corpo di Bacco! It's a poor one. -Couldn't the lot of you think of a likelier tale than that?" - -The Bucking Bronco opined as haow thar was nuthin' like the trewth. - -"Look you," said the Italian to Madame, and the assembled loungers. -"This grey English cur--pot-valiant--comes yapping at me, being in his -cups, and challenges me, _me_, Luigi Rivoli, to fight. I say: 'Go dig -your grave, dog,' and he goes. I have not seen him since, but on all -hands I hear that he has arranged with this strumpet of the Cafe to say -that she has begged my life of him," and Luigi Rivoli roared with -laughter at the idea. "Now listen you, and spread this truth abroad.... -Madame will excuse me," and he turned with his stage bow to Madame.... -"I am no plaster saint, I am a Legionnaire. Sometimes I go to this -Cafe--I admit it," and again turning to Madame, he laid his hand upon -his heart. "Madame," he appealed, "I have no home, no wife, no fireside -to which to be faithful.... And as I honestly admit I visit this Cafe. -The girl is glad of my custom and possibly a little honoured--of that I -would say nothing.... Accidents will happen to the bravest and most -skilful of men in duels. The girl begged me not to fight. 'You are my -best customer,' said she, 'and the handsomest of all my patrons,' and -carried on as such wenches do, when trade is threatened. 'Peace, -woman,' said I, 'trouble me not, or I go to Zuleika across the way.' ... -She then took another line. 'Look you, Signor,' said she, 'this old -fool, Boule, comes to me when he has money; and he drinks here every -night. Spare his miserable carcase for what I make out of it,' and with -a laugh I gave the girl my franc and half-promise.... Still, what is -one's word to a wanton? I may shoot the dog yet, if he and his friends -be not careful how they lie." - -The drunken man had turned his face on to his arms. No one but the -American and 'Erb noticed that his body was shaken convulsively. -Perhaps with drunken laughter? - -"Tole yer so, Cocky," bawled 'Erb in his ear. "You'll be sick as David's -sow in a minnit, 'an' we'll all git blue-blind, paralytic drunk,'" and -rising to his feet 'Erb lifted up his voice in song to the effect that-- - - "White wings they never grow whiskers, - They kerry me cheerily over the sea - To ye Banks and Braes o' Bonny Doon - Where we drew 'is club money this mornin'. - Witin' to 'ear the verdick on the boy in the prisoner's dock - When Levi may I menshun drew my perlite attenshun - To the tick of 'is grandfarver's clock. - Ninety years wivaht stumblin', Tick, Tick, Tick,-- - Ninety years wivaht grumblin', gently does the trick, - When it stopped short, never to go agine - Till the ole man died. - An' ef yer wants ter know the time, git yer 'air cut." - - -For the moment 'Erb was the centre of interest, though not half a dozen -men in the room understood the words of what the vast majority supposed -to be a wild lament or dirge. - -John Bull entered the Canteen, and 'Erb was forgotten. All near the -counter, save the drunken man, watched his approach. He strode straight -up to the oar, his eyes fixed on Rivoli. - -"I wish to withdraw my challenge to you," he said in a clear voice. "I -am not going to fight you after all." - -"_But, Mother of God, you are!_" whispered the drunken man. - -"Oho!" roared Rivoli. "Oho!" and exploded with laughter. "Sober -to-night are you, English boaster? And how do you know that I will not -fight you, _flaneur_?" - -"That rests with you, of course," was the reply. - -"Oho, it does, does it, Monsieur Coup Manque? And suppose I decide _not_ -to fight you, but to punish you as little barking dogs should be -punished? By the Wounds of God you shall learn a lesson, little -vur...." - -The drunken man moved, as though to spring to his feet, but the big -American's arm flung round him pressed him down, as he lurched his huge -body drunkenly against him, pinning him to the table. - -"'Ere," expostulated 'Erb. "'E wants ter be sick, I tell yer. Free -country ain't it, if 'e _is_ a bloomin' Legendary.... Might as well be -a bleed'n drummerdary if 'e carn't be sick w'en 'e wants to.... 'Ope 'e -ain't got seven stummicks, eny'ow," he added as an afterthought, and -again applied himself to the business of the evening. - -John Bull turned, without a word, and left the Canteen. The knot about -the bar broke up and Luigi was alone with Madame save for two drunken -men and one who was doing his best to achieve that blissful state. - -"Have you forgiven me, Beloved of my Soul?" asked Rivoli of Madame, as -she mopped the zinc surface of the bar. - -"No," snapped Madame. "I have not." - -"Then do it now, my Queen," he implored. "Forgive me, and then do one -other thing." - -"What is that?" enquired Madame. - -"Marry me," replied Rivoli, seizing Madame's pudgy fist. - -The eyes of the drunken man were on him, and the American watching, -thought of the eyes of the snake that lies with broken back watching its -slayer. There was death and the hate of Hell in them, and while he -shuddered, his heart sang with hope. - -"Marry me, Veronique," he repeated. "Have pity on me and end this -suspense. See you, I grow thin," and he raised his mighty arms in a -pathetic gesture. - -Madame glanced at the poor man's stomach. There was no noticeable -_maigreur_. - -"And what of the Neapolitan hussy and your goings on in the Cafe de la -Legion?" she asked. - -"To Hell with the _putain_," he almost shouted. "I am like other -men--and I have been to her dive like the rest. Marry me and save me -from this loose irregular soldier's life. Do you think I would stray -from _thee_, Beloved, if thou wert mine?" - -"Not twice," said Madame. - -"Then away with this jealousy," replied the ardent Luigi. "Let me -announce our nuptials here and now, and call upon my comrades-in-arms to -drink long life and happiness to my beauteous bride--whom they all so -chastely love and revere. Come, little Star of my Soul! Come, -carissima, and I will most solemnly swear upon the Holy Cross that -never, never, never again will I darken the doors of the _casse-croute_ -of that girl of the Bazaar. I swear it, Veronique--so help me God and -all the Holy Saints--your husband will die before he will set foot in -Carmelita's brothel." - -"Come," said the drunken man, with a little piteous moan. "Could you -carry me out, Signor? I am going to faint." - -The Bucking Bronco gathered Carmelita up in his arms and strode toward -the door. - -"'Ere 'old on," ejaculated 'Erb. "'Arf a mo'! I'll tike 'is 'oofs...." - -"Stay whar yew are, 'Erb," said the American sternly, over his shoulder. - -"Right-o, ole bloke," agreed 'Erb, always willing to oblige. "Right-o! -Shove 'im in 'is kip[#] while I 'soop 'is bare.'"[#] - - -[#] Bed. - -[#] Drink his beer. - - -Outside, the Bucking Bronco set Carmelita down upon a bench in a dark -corner and chafed her hands as he peered anxiously into her face. - -"Pull yureself together, honey," he urged. "Don't yew give way yit. -Yew've gotter walk past the Guard ef I carries yew all the rest of the -way." - -The broken-hearted girl could only moan. The American racked his brains -for a solution of the difficulty and wished John Bull and Rupert were -with him. It would be utterly hopeless to approach the gate with the -girl in his arms. What would happen if he could not get her out that -night? Suddenly the girl rose to her feet. Pride had come to her -rescue. - -"Come, Monsieur Bronco," she said in a dead, emotionless voice. "Let me -get home," and began to walk like an automaton. Slipping his arm -through hers, the American guided and supported her, and in time, -Carmelita awoke from a terrible dream to find herself at home. The -Russian girl, in some clothing and a wrap of Carmelita's, admitted them -at the back door. - -"Get her some brandy," said the Bucking Bronco. "Shall I open the Caffy -and serve fer yew, Carmelita, ma gel?" he asked. - -Before he could translate his question into Legion French, Carmelita had -understood, partly from his gestures. She shook her head. - -Olga Kyrilovitch looked a mute question at the American. He nodded -slightly. Carmelita caught the unspoken communication between the two. - -"Yes," she said, turning to Olga, "you were right.... They were all -right. And I was wrong.... He is the basest, meanest scoundrel who -ever betrayed a woman. I do not realise it yet--I am stunned.... And I -am punished too. I shall die or go mad when I understand.... And I -want to be alone. Go now, dear Signor Orso Americano, and take my love -and this message to Signor Jean Boule. _I kiss his boots in humility -and apology, and if he will kill this Rivoli for me I will be his slave -for life._" - -"Let me kill him fer yew, Carmelita," begged the American as he turned -to go, and then paused as his face lit up with the brightness of an -idea. "No," he said. "Almighty God! I got another think come. I'll -come an' see yew to-morrow, Carmelita--and make yew a _pro_posal about -Mounseer Loojey as'll do yew good." At the door he beckoned to the -Russian girl. - -"Look at hyar, Miss Mikhail," he whispered. "Stand by her like a man -to-night. Nuss her, and coddle her and soothe her. You see she don't -do herself no harm. Yew hev' her safe and in her right mind in the -mornin'--an' we'll git yew and yure brother outer Sidi or my name ain't -Hyram Cyrus Milton." - - - Sec.3 - -That night was one of the most unforgettable of all the memorable nights -through which Olga Kyrilovitch ever lived in the course of her -adventurous career. For it was the only night during which she was shut -up with a violent and dangerous homicidal maniac. In addition to -fighting for her own life, the girl had, at times, to fight for that of -her assailant, and she deserved well of the Bucking Bronco. Nature at -length asserted herself and Carmelita collapsed. She slept, and awoke in -the middle of the next day as sane as a person can be, every fibre of -whose being yearns and tingles with one fierce obsession. Even to the -experienced Russian girl, the wildness of the Neapolitan revenge-passion -was an alarming revelation. - -"Though I starve or go mad, I cannot eat nor sleep till I have spat on -his dead face," were the only words she answered to Olga's entreaty that -she would take food. But she busied herself about her daily tasks with -pinched white face, pinched white lips, and cavernous black brooding -eyes. - -"Rivoli's next meal here will be his last," thought Olga Kyrilovitch, -and shuddered. - -Terrible and unfathomable as was Carmelita's agony of mind, she insisted -on carrying out the programme for the escape of the two Russians fixed -for that day, and Olga salved a feeling of selfishness by assuring -herself that anything which took the girl's thoughts from her own -tragedy was for her good. - -That afternoon, Feodor Kyrilovitch made his unobtrusive exit from the -Legion and was admitted by his sister at the back door of the Cafe. In -his pocket was a letter enclosed in a blank envelope. On an inner -envelope was the following name and address: "_Lady Huntingten, Elham -Old Hall, Elham, Kent, England._" - -By the five-thirty train two flighty females--one blonde, the other -brunette--were seen off from the little Sidi-bel-Abbes station of the -Western Algerian Railway, which runs from Tlemcen to Oran, by -Mademoiselle Carmelita of the Cafe de la Legion. Their conversation and -playful badinage with the guard of Legionnaires, which is always on duty -at the platform gate, were frivolous and unedifying. Sergeant Boulanger, -as gallant to women as he was ferocious to men, vowed to his admired -Carmelita that it broke his heart to announce that he feared he could -not allow her two friends to proceed on their journey until--Carmelita's -white face seemed to go a little whiter--they had both given him a -chaste salute. On hearing this, one of the girls fled squealing to the -train, while the other, with very real blushes and unfeigned reluctance, -submitted her face to partial burial beneath the vast moustache of the -amorous Sergeant.... As the ramshackle little train crawled out of the -station, this girl said to the one who had fled: "You _were_ a sneak to -bolt like that, Feodor," and received the somewhat cryptic reply-- - -"My dear Olga, and where should we both be now if his lips had felt the -bristles around mine? ... You don't suppose that a double shave, twice -over, makes a man's face like a girl's, do you?..." - -These two young females found Lady Huntingten all, and more than all, -her son had prophesied. When Feodor and Olga Kyrilovitch left the -hospitable roof of Elham Old Hall, she parried their protestations of -gratitude with the statement that she was fully repaid and over-paid, -for anything she had been able to do for them, by the pleasure of -talking with friends of her son, friends who had actually been with him -but a few days before, and who so fully bore out the statements -contained in his letter to the effect that he was in splendid health and -having a splendid time. - - -On returning to her Cafe, Carmelita found the Bucking Bronco, John Bull, -Reginald Rupert, 'Erbiggins, and several other Legionnaires awaiting -admittance. Having opened her bar and mechanically ministered to her -customers' needs, the unsmiling, broken-looking Carmelita, all of whose -vitality and energy seemed concentrated in her burning eyes beckoned to -the American and led him into her room Gripping his wrist with her cold -hand, and almost shaking him in her too-long suppressed frenzy: - -"Have you told Jean Boule?" she asked. "When will he kill him? Where? -Quick, tell me! I must be there. I must see him do it.... Oh! He -will die too quickly.... It is too good a death for such a reptile.... -It is no punishment.... Why should he not suffer some thousandth part -of what _I_ suffer?" - -"Look at hyar, Carmelita, honey," interrupted the American, putting his -arm round the little heaving shoulders as he mentally translated what he -must first say in his own tongue. "Thet's jest whar the swine would git -the bulge on yew. Why shouldn't he git a glimpse o' sufferin', sech as -I had ter sit an' see yew git, las' night? ... An' I gits it in the -think-box las' night, right hyar. Listen, ma honey. _I'm gwine ter -beat him up_, right naow, right hyar, in yure Caffy--an' before yure -very eyes. In front of all his bullies an' all the guys he's beat up, -I'll hev' him on his knees a-blubberin' an' a-prayin' fer mercy.... Then -he shall lick yure boots, little gel, same as he makes recruits lick -his. Then he shall grovel on the ground an' beg an' pray yew to marry -him, and at that insult yew shall ask me to put him across my knee and -irritate his pants with my belt--an' then throw him neck and crop, tail -over tip, in the gutter! Termorrer John Bull smacks his face on the -barrack-square an' tells him he was only playin' with him about lettin' -him off that dool." - -When Carmelita clearly understood the purport of this remarkable speech -she put her arms around the Bucking Bronco's neck. - -"Dear Signor Orso Americano," she whispered. "Humiliate him to the dust -before his comrades, bring him grovelling to my feet, begging me to -marry him--and I will be your wife.... Blind, blind, unnameable _fool_ -that I have been--to think this dog a god and you a rough barbarian.... -Forgive me, Signor.... I could kill myself." - -The Bucking Bronco folded the woman in his arms. Suddenly she struggled -free, thrust him from her, and, falling into a chair, buried her face in -her arms and burst into tears. Standing over her the Bucking Bronco -awkwardly patted her back with his huge hand. - -"Do yew good, ma gel," he murmured over and over again. "Nuth'n like a -good cry for a woman.... Git it over naow, and by'n-by show a smilin' -face an' a proud one fer Loojey Rivoli to see fer the las' time." - -"The _bambino_," wailed the girl. "The _bambino_." - -"_What?_" exclaimed the Bucking Bronco. - -Rising, the girl looked the man in the face and painfully but bravely -stammered out what had been her so-wonderful Secret, and the hope of her -life. - -The Bucking Bronco again folded Carmelita in his arms. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - THE WAGES OF SIN - - -It was soon evident that the word had been passed round that there would -be "something doing" at the Cafe de la Legion that evening. Never -before had its hospitable roof covered so large an assembly of guests. -Though it was not exactly what could be called "a packed house," it was -far from being a selected gathering of the special friends of Il Signor -Luigi Rivoli. To Legionaries John Bull, Reginald Rupert and 'Erb -'Iggins it was obvious that the Bucking Bronco had been at some pains to -arrange that the spectators of whatever might befall that evening, were -men who would witness the undoing of Luigi Rivoli--should that -occur--with considerable equanimity. Scarcely a man there but had felt -at some time the weight of his brutal fist and the indignity of helpless -obedience to his tyrannous behest. Of one thing they were -sure--whatever they might, or might not behold, they would see a Homeric -fight, a struggle that would become historic in the annals of la Legion. -The atmosphere was electric with suppressed excitement and a sense of -pleasurable expectation. - -In a group by the bar, lounged the Bucking Bronco and the three -Englishmen with a few of their more immediate intimates, chiefly -Frenchmen, and members of their _escouade_. Carmelita, a brilliant spot -of colour glowing on either cheek, busied herself about her duties, -flitting like a butterfly from table to table. Never had she appeared -more light-hearted, gay, and _insouciante_. But to John Bull, who -watched her anxiously, it was clear that her gaiety was feverish and -hectic, her laughter forced and hysterical. - -"Reckon 'e's got an earthly, matey?" asked 'Erb of Rupert. "'E'll 'ave -ter scrag an' kick, same as Rivoli, if 'e don't want ter be counted -aht." - -"I'd give a hundred pounds to see him win, anyhow," was the reply. "I -expect he'll fight the brute with his own weapons. He'll go in for what -he calls 'rough-housing' I hope.... No good following Amateur Boxing -Association rules if you're fighting a bear, or a Zulu, or a -Fuzzy-wuzzy, or Luigi Rivoli...." - -And that was precisely the intention of the American, whose fighting had -been learnt in a very rough and varied school. When earning his living -as a professional boxer, he had given referees no more than the average -amount of trouble; and in the ring, against a clean fighter, had put up -a clean fight. A tricky opponent, resorting to fouls, had always found -him able to respond with very satisfying tricks of his own--"and then -some." But the Bucking Bronco had also done much mixed fighting as a -hobo[#] with husky and adequate bulls[#] in many of the towns of the -free and glorious United States of America, when guilty of having no -visible means of support; with exasperated and homicidal shacks[#] on -most of that proud country's railways, when "holding her down," and -frustrating their endeavours to make him "hit the grit"; with terrible -and dangerous lumber-jacks in timber camps when the rye whiskey was in -and all sense and decency were out; with cow-punchers and ranchers, with -miners, with Bowery toughs, and assorted desperadoes. - - -[#] Tramp, a rough. - -[#] Policemen. - -[#] Train conductors. - - -To-night, when he stood face to face with Luigi Rivoli, he intended to -do precisely what his opponent would do, to use all Nature's weapons and -every device, trick, shift and artifice that his unusually wide -experience had taught him. - -He knew, and fully admitted, that, tremendously powerful and tough as he -himself was, Rivoli was far stronger. Not only was the Italian a born -Strong Man, but he had spent his life in developing his muscles, and it -was probable that there were very few more finely developed athletes on -the face of the earth. Moreover, he was a far younger man, far better -fed (thanks to Carmelita), and a trained professional wrestler. Not -only were his muscles of marvellous development, they were also trained -and educated to an equally marvellous quickness, skill and poise. Add to -this the fact that the man was no mean exponent of the arts of _la -savate_ and _la boxe_, utterly devoid of any scruples of honour and -fair-play, and infused with a bitter hatred of the American--and small -blame accrues to the latter for his determination to meet the Italian on -his own ground. - -As he stood leaning against the bar, his elbows on it and his face -toward the big room, it would have required a very close observer to -note any signs of the fact that he was about to fight for his life, and, -far more important, for Carmelita, against an opponent in whose favour -the odds were heavy. His hard strong face was calm, the eyes level and -steady, and, more significant, the hands and fingers quiet and -reposeful. Studying his friend, John Bull noticed the absence of any -symptoms of excitement, nervousness, or anxiety. There was no moistening -of lips, no working of jaw muscles, no change of posture, no quickening -of speech. It was the same old Buck, large, lazy, and lethargic, with -the same humorous eye, the same measured drawl, the same quaint turn of -speech. In striking contrast with the immobility of the American, was -the obvious excitement of the Cockney. - -"It'll be an 'Ellova fight," he kept on saying. "Gawdstreuth, it'll be -an 'Ellova fight," and bitterly regretted the self-denying ordinance -which he had passed upon himself to the effect that no liquor should wet -his lips till all was o'er.... - -Luigi Rivoli, followed as usual by Malvin, Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat, Borges, -Hirsch and Bauer, strode into the Cafe. He was accustomed to attracting -attention and to the proud consciousness of nudges, glances and -whisperings wherever he went. Not for nothing is one the strongest and -most dangerous man in the Foreign Legion. But to-night he was aware of -more than usual interest as silence fell upon the abnormally large -gathering in Carmelita's Cafe. He at once ascribed it to the widespread -interest in the public challenge he had received from John Bull to a -_duel a l'outrance_ and the rumour that the Englishman had as publicly -withdrawn it. He felt that fresh lustre had been added to his brilliant -name.... Carmelita _had_ been useful there, and had delivered him from -a very real danger, positively from the fangs of a mad dog. Very -useful. What a pity it was that he could not marry Madame, and run -Carmelita. Might she not be brought to consent to some such -arrangement? Not even when she found she could have him in no other -way? ... Never! - -_Absolutamente_ ... Curse her.... Well, anyhow, there were a few more -francs, dinners, and bottles of Chianti. One must take what one can, -while one can--and after all the Canteen was worth ten Cafes. Madame had -been very kind to-night and would give her final answer to-morrow. That -had been a subtle idea of his, telling her that, unless she married him, -she should marry no one, and remain a widow all the days of her life, -for he'd break the back of any man who so much as looked at her. That -had given the old sow something to think about. Ha! Ha! ... - -As he entered, John Bull was just saying to the Bucking Bronco, "Don't -do it, Buck. I know all about that - - 'Thrice-armed is he who hath his quarrel just, - But four times is he who gets his blow in fust.' - -But thrice is quite enough, believe me, old chap. You've no need to -descend to such a trick as hitting him unawares, by way of starting the -fight." - -"Is this my night ter howl, John, or yourn? Whose funeral is it?" - -... "Fight him by his own methods if you like, Buck--but don't put -yourself in the wrong for a start.... You'll win all right, or I shall -cease to believe in Eternal Justice of Things." - -It had been the purpose of the Bucking Bronco to lessen the odds against -himself, to some extent, by intimating his desire to fight, with a -shattering blow which should begin, and, at the same time, half win the -battle. - -Rivoli approached. - -Ha! There was that cursed Englishman, was he? Well, since he had given -his promise to Carmelita and was debarred from a duel, he should repeat -his apology of last night before this large assembly. Moreover, he would -now be free to handle this English dog--to beat and torture and torment -him like a new recruit. Bull's hands would be tied as far as weapons -were concerned by his promise to Carmelita.... The dog was leaning -against the flap of the bar which he would have to raise to pass through -to his dinner. Should he take him by the ears and rub his face in the -liquor-slops on the bar, or should he merely put him on the ground and -wipe his feet on him? Better not perhaps, there was that -thrice-accursed American _scelerato_ and that indestructible young devil -Rupert, who had smitten his jaw and ribs so vilely, and wanted to fight -again directly he had left hospital and _salle de police_. The Devil -smite all Englishmen.... His wrath boiled over, his arm shot out and he -seized John Bull by the collar, shook him, and slung him from his path. - -And then the Heavens fell. - -With his open, horny palm, the Bucking Bronco smote the Italian as -cruelly stinging a slap as ever human face received. But for his -friend's recent behest, he would have struck with his closed fist, and -the Italian would have entered the fight, if not with a broken jaw, at -least with a very badly "rattled" head. - -"_Ponk!_" observed 'Erb, dancing from foot to foot in excitement and -glee. - -"Ah--h--h!" breathed Carmelita, - -The Italian recovered his balance and gathered himself for a spring. - -"No you don't," shouted Rupert, and the three Englishmen simultaneously -threw themselves in front of him, at the same time calling on the -spectators to make a ring. - -In a moment, headed by Tant-de-Soif, the Englishmen's friends commenced -pulling chairs, tables and benches to the walls of the big room. Old -Tant-de-Soif had never received a sou or a drink from the bully, though -many and many a blow and bitter humiliation. Long he had served and -long he had hated. He felt that a great hour had struck. - -The scores and scores of willing hands assisting, the room was quickly -cleared. - -"This American would die, it appears, poor madman," observed M. Malvin -ingratiatingly to Carmelita. - -"I do not think he will die," replied the girl. "But I think that -anyone who interferes with him will do so." - -The eyes of the good M. Malvin narrowed. Lay the wind in that quarter? -The excellent Luigi was found out, was he? Well, there might be a -successor.... - -Meantime the Italian had removed and methodically folded his tunic and -canvas shirt. A broad belt sustained his baggy red breeches. - -So it had come, had it? Well, so much the better. This American had -been the fly in the ointment of his comfort too long. Why had he not -strangled the insolent, or broken his back long ago? He would break him -now, once and for all--maim him for life if he could; at least make a -serious hospital case of him. - -Bidding Malvin mount guard over his discarded garments, Rivoli stepped -forth Into the middle of the large cleared space, flexing and slapping -his muscles. Having done so, he looked round the crowded sides of the -room for the usual applause. To his surprise none followed. He gazed -about him again. Was this a selected audience? It was certainly not -the audience he would have selected for himself. It appeared to consist -mostly of _miserabile_ whom he had frequently had to punish for -insubordination and defiance of his orders. They should have a -demonstration, that evening, of the danger of defying Luigi Rivoli. - -As the American stepped forward John Bull caught his sleeve. "Take off -your tunic, Buck," he said in surprise. - -"Take off nix," replied the American. - -"But he'll get a better hold on you," remonstrated his friend. - -"I should worry," was the cryptic reply, as the speaker unbuttoned the -upper part of his tunic and pushed his collar well away from his neck at -the back. - -"'E'll cop 'old of 'im wiv that coller, an' bleed'n well strangle 'im," -said 'Erb to Rupert. - -"Fancy that now, sonny," said the Bucking Bronco, with an exaggerated -air of surprise, and stepped into the arena. - -Complete silence fell upon the room as the two antagonists faced each -other. - -_Nom de nom de bon Dieu de Dieu_! Why had not le Legionnaire Bouckaing -Bronceau stripped? Was it sheer bravado? How could he, or any other -living man, afford to add to the already overwhelming risks when -fighting the great Luigi Rivoli?... - -The Bucking Bronco got his "blow in fust" after all, and, as his friend -had prophesied, was glad that it had not been a "foul poke"--taking his -opponent unawares. - -"Come hither, dog, and let me snap thy spine," growled the Italian as -the Bucking Bronco faced him. As he spoke, he thrust his right hand -forward, as though to seize the American in a wrestling-hold. With a -swift snatch the latter grabbed the extended hand, gave a powerful -jerking tug and released it before his enemy could free it and fasten -upon him in turn. The violent pull upon his arm swung the Italian half -left and before he could recover his balance and regain his position, -the Bucking Bronco had let drive at the side of his face with all his -weight and strength. It was a terrific blow and caught Rivoli on the -right cheek-bone, laying the side of his face open. - -Only those who have seen--or experienced--it, know the effect of skilled -blows struck by hands unhampered by boxing gloves. - -The Italian reeled and, like the skilled master of ringcraft that he -was, the Bucking Bronco gave him no time in which to recover. With a -leap he again put all his strength, weight, and skill behind a slashing -right-hander on his enemy's face, and, as he raised his arms, a -left-hander on his ribs. Had any of these three blows found the -Italian's "point" or "mark," it is more than probable that the fight -would have been decided. As it was, Rivoli was only shaken--and -exasperated to the point of madness.... - -Wait till he got his arms round the man! ... Corpo di Bacco! But wait! -Let him wait till he got his hand on that collar that the rash fool had -left undone and sticking out so temptingly? - -Ducking swiftly under a fourth blow, he essayed to fling his arms round -the American's waist. As the mighty arms shot out for the deadly -embrace, the Bucking Bronco's knee flew up with terrific force, to smash -the face so temptingly passed above it. Like a flash the face swerved to -the left, the knee missed it, and the American's leg was instantly -seized as in a vice. - -The spectators held their breath. Was this the end? Rivoli had him! -Could there be any hope for him? - -There could. This was "rough-housin'"--and at "rough-housin'" the -Bucking Bronco had had few equals. He suddenly thought of one of _the_ -fights of his life--at 'Frisco, with the bucko mate of a hell-ship on -which he had made a trip as fo'c's'le-hand, from the Klondyke. The mate -had done his best to kill him at sea, and the Bucking Bronco had "laid -for him" ashore as the mate quitted the ship. It had been "some" fight -and the mate had collared his leg in just the same way. He would try -the method that had then been successful.... He seized the Italian's -neck with both huge hands, and, with all his strength, started to -throttle him--his thumbs on the back of his opponent's neck, his fingers -crushing relentlessly into his throat. Of course Rivoli would throw -him--that was to be expected--but that would not free Rivoli's throat. -Not by any manner of means. With a fair and square two-handed hold on -the skunk's throat, it would be no small thing to get that throat free -again while there was any life left in its proprietor.... - -With a heave and a thrust, the Italian threw the Bucking Bronco heavily -and fell heavily upon him. The latter tightened his grip and saw his -enemy going black in the face.... Swiftly Rivoli changed his hold. -While keeping one arm round the American's leg, at the knee, he seized -his foot with the other hand and pressed it backward with all his -gigantic strength. As the leg bent back, he pressed his other arm more -tightly into the back of the knee. In a moment the leg must snap like a -carrot, and the American knew it--and also that he would be lame for -life if his knee-joint were thus rent asunder. It was useless to hope -that Rivoli would suffocate before the leg broke... Nor would a dead -Rivoli be a sufficient compensation for perpetual lameness. Never to -walk nor ride nor fight.... A lame husband for Carmelita.... Loosing -his hold on his antagonist's throat, he punched him a paralysing blow on -the muscle of the arm that was bending his leg back, and then seized the -same arm by the wrist with both hands, and freed his foot.... A -deadlock.... They glared into each other's eyes, mutually impotent, and -then, by tacit mutual consent, released holds, rose, and confronted each -other afresh. - -So far, honours were decidedly with the American, and a loud spontaneous -cheer arose from the spectators. "Vive le Bouckaing Bronceau!" was the -general sentiment. - -Carmelita sat like a statue on her high chair--lifeless save for her -terrible eyes. Though her lips did not move, she prayed with all the -fervour of her ardent nature. - -Breathing heavily, the antagonists faced each other like a pair of -half-crouching tigers.... Suddenly Rivoli kicked. Not the horizontal -kick of _la savate_ in which the leg is drawn up to the chest and the -foot shot out sideways and parallel with the floor, so that the sole -strikes the object flatly--but in the ordinary manner, the foot rising -from the ground, to strike with the toe. The Bucking Bronco raised his -right foot and crossed his right leg over his left, so that the -Italian's rising shin met his own while the rising foot met nothing at -all. Had the kick been delivered fully, the leg would have broken as -the shin was suddenly arrested while the foot met nothing. (This is the -deadliest defence there is against a kicker, other than a savatist.) -But so fine was the poise and skill of the professional acrobat, that, -in full flight, he arrested the kick ere it struck the parrying leg with -full violence. He did not escape scot-free from this venture, however, -for, even as he raised his leg in defence, the Bucking Bronco shot forth -his right hand with one of the terrible punches for which Rivoli was -beginning to entertain a wholesome respect. He saved his leg, but -received a blow on the right eye which he knew must, before long, cause -it to close completely. He saw red, lost his temper and became as an -infuriated bull. As he had done under like circumstances with the -Legionnaire Rupert, he rushed at his opponent with a roar, casting aside -wisdom and prudence in the madness of his desire to get his enemy in his -arms. He expected to receive a blow in the face as he sprang, and was -prepared to dodge it by averting his head. With an agility surprising -in so big a man, the Bucking Bronco ducked below the Italian's -outstretched arms and, covering his face with his bent left arm, drove -at his antagonist's "mark" with a blow like the kick of a horse. The -gasping groan with which the wind was driven out of Rivoli's body was -music to the Bucking Bronco's ears. He knew that, for some seconds, his -foe, be he the strongest man alive, was at his mercy. Springing erect he -punched with left and right at his doubled-up and gasping enemy, his -arms working like piston-rods and his fists falling like sledge-hammers. -The cheering became continuous as Rivoli shrank and staggered before -that rain of terrific blows. Suddenly he recovered, drew a deep breath -and flung his arms fairly round the Bucking Bronco's waist. - -Corpo di Bacco! He had got him!... - -Clasping his hands behind the American, he settled his head comfortably -down into that wily man's neck, and bided his time. He had got him.... -He would rest and wait until his breathing was more normal. He would -then tire the _scelerato_ down ... tire him down ... and then ... - -This was his programme, but it was not that of the Bucking Bronco, or -not in its entirety. He realised that "Loojey had the bulge on him." -For the moment it was "Loojey's night ter howl." He would take a rest -and permit Loojey to support him, also he would feign exhaustion and -distress. It was a pity that it was his right arm that was imprisoned -in the bear-hug of the wrestler. However, nothing much could happen so -long as he kept his back convex. - -Seconds, which seemed like long minutes, passed. - -Suddenly the Italian made a powerful effort to draw him closer and -decrease the convexity of his arched back. He resisted the constriction -with all his strength, but realised that he had been drawn slightly -inward. - -Again a tremendous tensing of mighty muscles, again a tremendous heave -in opposition, and again he was a little nearer. - -The process was repeated. Soon the line of his back would be concave -instead of convex. That would be the beginning of the end. Once he -bent over backward there would be no hope; he would finally drop from -the Italian's grasp with a sprained or broken back, to receive -shattering kicks in the face, ribs and stomach, before Rivoli jumped -upon him with both feet and twenty stone weight. For a moment he half -regretted having so stringently prohibited any sort or kind of -interference in the fight, whatever happened, short of Rivoli's -producing a weapon. But only for a moment. He would not owe his life -to the intervention of others, after having promised Carmelita to beat -him up and bring him grovelling to her feet. He had been winning so -far.... He _would_ win.... As the Italian again put all his force into -an inward-drawing hug, the American, for a fraction of a second, -resisted with all his strength and then suddenly did precisely the -opposite. Shooting his feet between the straddled legs of his -adversary, he flung his left arm around his head, threw all his weight -on to it and brought himself and Rivoli crashing heavily to the ground. -As the arms of the latter burst asunder, the Bucking Bronco had time to -seize his head and bang it twice, violently, upon the stone floor. - -Both scrambled to their feet. - -It had been a near thing. He must not get into that rib-crushing hug -again, for the trick would not avail twice. Like a springing lion, -Rivoli was on him. Ducking, he presented the top of his head to the -charge and felt the Italian grip his collar. With an inarticulate cry -of glee he braced his feet and with tremendous force and speed revolved -his head and shoulders round and round in a small circle, the centre and -axis of which was Rivoli's hand and forearm. The first lightning-like -revolution entangled the tightly-gripping hand, the second twisted and -wrenched the wrist and arm, the third completed the terrible work of -mangling disintegration. In three seconds the bones, tendons, -ligaments, and tissue of Rivoli's right hand and wrist were broken, -wrenched and torn. The bones of the forearm were broken, the elbow and -shoulder-joints were dislocated. Tearing himself free, the American -sprang erect and struck the roaring, white-faced Italian between the -eyes and then drove him before him, staggering backward under a -ceaseless rain of violent punches. Drove him back and back, even as the -bully put his uninjured left hand behind him for the dagger concealed in -the hip pocket of his baggy trousers, and sent him reeling, stumbling -and half-falling straight into the middle of his silent knot of jackals, -Malvin, Borges, Hirsch, Bauer, and Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat. Against these -he fell. Malvin was seen to put out his hands to stop him, Borges and -Hirsch closed in on him to catch him, Bauer pressed against Malvin, -Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat stooped with a swift movement. With a grunt Rivoli -collapsed, his knees gave way and, in the middle of the dense throng, he -slipped to the ground. As the Bucking Bronco thrust in, and the crowd -pressed back, Rivoli lay on his face in the cleared space, a knife in -his left hand, another in his back. - -He never moved nor spoke again, but M. Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat did both. - -As he left the Cafe he licked his lips, smiled and murmured: "_Je m'en -ai souvenu_." - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - GREATER LOVE... - - -At the bottom of the alley, le bon Legionnaire Tou-tou Boil-the-Cat -encountered Sergeant Legros.... A bright idea! ... Stepping up to the -worthy Sergeant, he saluted, and informed him that, passing the -notorious Cafe de la Legion, a minute since, he had heard a terrible -_tohuwabohu_ and, looking in, had seen a crowd of excited Legionaries -fighting with knives and side-arms. He had not entered, but from the -door had seen at least one dead man upon the ground. - -The worthy Sergeant's face lit up as he smacked his lips with joy. Ah, -ha! here were punishments.... Here were crimes.... Here were victims -for _salle de police_ and _cellules_.... Fodder for the _peloton des -hommes punis_ and the Zephyrs.... Here was distinction for that keen -disciplinarian, Sergeant Legros. - -"_V'la quelqu'un pour la boite_," quoth he, and betook himself to the -Cafe at the _pas gymastique_. - - - Sec.2 - -At the sight of the knife buried in the broad naked back of the Italian, -the silence of horror fell upon the stupefied crowd. - -_Nombril de Belzebuth_! How had it happened? - -_Sacre nom de nom de bon Dieu de Dieu de Dieu de sort_! Who had done -it? Certainly not le Legionnaire Bouckaing Bronceau. Never for one -second had the Legionnaire Rivoli's back been toward him. Never for one -instant had there been a knife in the American's hand. Yet there lay -the great Luigi Rivoli stabbed to the heart. There was the knife in his -back. _Dame_! - -Men's mouths hung open stupidly, as they stared wide-eyed. Gradually it -grew clear and obvious. Of course--he had been knocked backwards into -that group of his jackals, Malvin, Borges, Hirsch and Bauer, and one of -them, who hated him, had been so excited and uplifted by the sight of -his defeat that he had turned upon him. Yes, he had been stabbed by one -of those four. - -"Malvin did it. I saw him," ejaculated Tant-de-Soif. He honestly -thought he had--or thought he thought so. "God bless him," he added -solemnly. - -He had many a score to settle with M. Malvin, but he could afford to -give him generous praise--since he was booked for the firing-party -beside the open grave, or five years _rabiau_ in Biribi. It is not -every day that one's most hated enemies destroy each other.... - -"Wal! I allow thet's torn it," opined the Bucking Bronco as he surveyed -his dead enemy. - -Carmelita came from behind the bar and down the room. What was -happening? Why had the fight stopped? She saw the huddled heap that -had been Rivoli.... She saw the knife--and thought she understood. -This was as things should be. This was how justice and vengeance were -executed in her own beloved Naples. Il Signor Americano was worthy to -be a Neapolitan, worthy to inherit and transmit _vendetta_. How cruelly -she had misjudged him in thinking him a barbarian.... - -"_Paye_," she cried, turning in disgust from the body, and threw her -arms round the Bucking Bronco's neck, as the Sergeant burst in at the -door. Sergeant Legros was in his element. Not only was there here a -grand harvest of military criminals for his reaping, but here was -vengeance--and vengeance and cruelty were the favourite food of the soul -of Sergeant Legros. Here was a grand opportunity for vengeance on the -Italian trollop who had, when he was a private Legionary, not only -rejected his importunities with scorn, but had soundly smacked his face -withal. Striding forward, as soon as he had roared, "_Attention!_" he -seized Carmelita roughly by the arm and shook her violently, with a -shout of: "To your kennel, _prostituee_." Whereupon the Bucking Bronco -felled his superior officer to the ground with a smashing blow upon the -jaw, thereby establishing an indisputable claim to life-servitude in the -terrible Penal Battalions. - -Among the vices of vile Sergeant Legros, physical cowardice found no -place. Staggering to his feet, he spat out a tooth, wiped the blood -from his face, drew his sword-bayonet, and rushed at the American -intending to kill him forthwith, in "self-defence." At the best of times -Sergeant Legros looked, and was, a dangerous person--but the blow had -made him a savage, homicidal maniac. The Bucking Bronco was dazed and -astonished at what he had done. Circumstances had been too strong for -him. He had naturally been in an abnormal state at the end of such a -fight, and in no condition to think and act calmly when his adored -Carmelita was insulted and assaulted.... What had he done? This meant -death or penal servitude from the General Court Martial at Oran. He had -lost her in the moment of winning her, and he dropped his hands as the -Sergeant flew at him with the sword-bayonet poised to strike. No--he -would fight.... He would make his get-away.... He would skin out and -Carmelita should join him.... He would fight... Too late! ... The -bayonet was at his throat.... Crash! ... Good old Johnny! ... That had -been a near call. As the maddened Legros was in the act to thrust, -Legionary John Bull had struck him on the side of the head with all his -strength, sending him staggering, and had leapt upon him to secure the -bayonet as they went crashing to the ground. As they struggled, -Legionary Rupert set his foot heavily on the Sergeant's wrist and -wrenched the bayonet from his hand. - -The problem of Sir Montague Merline's future was settled and the hour -for Reginald Rupert's desertion had struck. - -An ominous growl had rumbled round the room at the brutal words and -action of the detested Legros, and an audible gasp of consternation had -followed the Bucking Bronco's blow. Sacre Dieu! Here were doings of -which ignorance would be bliss--and there was a rush to the door, headed -by Messieurs Malvin, Borges, Hirsch and Bauer. - -Several Legionaries, as though rooted to the spot by a fearful -fascination, or by the hope of seeing Legros share the fate of Rivoli, -had stood their ground until John Bull struck him and Rupert snatched -the bayonet as though to kill him. Then, with two exceptions, this -remainder fled. These two were Tant-de-Soif and the Dutchman, Hans -Djoolte; the former, absolutely unable to think of flight and the -establishment of an _alibi_ while the man who had made his life a hell -was fighting for his own life; the latter, clear of conscience, honestly -innocent and wholly unafraid. Staring round-eyed, they saw Sergeant -Legros mightily heave his body upward, his head pinned to the ground by -'Erb 'Iggins, his throat clutched by Legionnaire Jean Boule, his right -hand held down by Legionnaire Rupert. Again he made a tremendous -effort, emitted a hideous bellowing sound and then collapsed and lay -curiously still. Meanwhile, Carmelita had closed and fastened the doors -and shutters of the Cafe and was turning out the lamps. Within half a -minute of the entrance of the Sergeant, the Cafe was closed and in -semi-darkness. - -"The bloomin' ol' fox is shammin' dead," panted 'Erb, and removed his -own belt. "'Eave 'im up and shove this rahnd 'is elbers while 'e's -a-playin' 'possum. Shove yourn rahnd 'is legs, Buck," he added. - -While still lying perfectly supine, the Sergeant was trussed like a -fowl. - -"Naow we gotter hit the high places. We gotter vamoose some," opined -the Bucking Bronco, as the four arose, their task completed. They -looked at each other in consternation. Circumstances had been too much -for them. Fate and forces outside themselves had whirled them along in -a spate of mischance, and cast them up, stranded and gasping. Entering -the place with every innocent and praiseworthy intention, they now stood -under the shadow of the gallows and the gaol. With them in that room -was a murdered man, and an assaulted, battered and outraged superior.... - -The croaking voice of Tant-de-Soif broke the silence. "_Pour vous_," -quoth he, "_il n'y a plus que l'Enfer_." - -"Shut up, you ugly old crow," replied Reginald Rupert, "and clear -out.... Look here, what are you going to do about it? What are you -going to say?" - -"I?" enquired Tant-de-Soif. "Le Legionnaire Djoolte and I have seen -each other in the Bar de Madagascar off the Rue de Daya the whole -evening. We have been here _peaudezebie_. Is it not, my Djoolte? Eh, -_mon salop_?" - -But the sturdy Dutch boy was of a different moral fibre. - -"I have not been in the Bar de Madagascar," replied he, in halting -Legion French. "I have been in le Cafe de la Legion the whole evening -and seen all that happened." - -"'E's a-seekin' sorrer. 'E wants a fick ear," put in 'Erb in his own -vernacular. - -"If my evidence is demanded, I saw a fair fight between the Legionnaire -Bouckaing Bronceau and le Legionnaire Luigi Rivoli. I then saw le -Legionnaire Luigi Rivoli fall dead, having been stabbed by either le -Legionnaire Malvin or le Legionnaire Bauer, if it were not le -Legionnaire Hirsch, or le Legionnaire Borges. I believe Malvin stabbed -him while these three held him, but I do not know. I then saw le -Sergent Legros enter and assault and abuse Mam'zelle Carmelita. I then -saw him fall as though someone had struck him and he then attempted to -murder le Legionnaire Bronco with his Rosalie. I then saw some -Legionnaires tie him up.... That is the evidence that I shall give if I -give any at all. I may refuse to answer, but I shall tell no lies." - -"That is all right," said the Bucking Bronco. "Naow yew git up an' yew -git--an' yew too, Tant-de-Soif, and tell the b'ys ter help Carmelita any -they can, ef Legros gits 'er inter trouble an' gits 'er Caffy shut.... -An' when yew gits the Gospel truth orf yure chest, Fatty, yew kin say, -honest Injun, as haow I tol' yew, thet me an' John Bull was a-goin' on -pump ter Merocker, an' Mounseers Rupert an' 'Erb was a-goin' fer ter do -likewise ter Toonis. Naow git," and the two were hustled out of the -Cafe. - -"Now," said John Bull, taking command, "we've got to be quick, as it's -just possible the news of what's happened may reach the picket and you -may be looked for before you're missing. First thing is Carmelita, -second thing's money, and third thing's plan of campaign.... Is -Carmelita in any danger over this?" - -"Don't see why she should be," said Rupert. "It's not her fault that -there was a fight in her Cafe. It has never been in any sense a -'disorderly house,' and what happened, merely happened here." - -"Yep," agreed the Bucking Bronco. "But I'm plum' anxious. I'm sure -tellin' yew, I don't like ter make my gitaway an' leave her hyar. But -we can't take a gal on pump." - -"Arx the young lidy," suggested 'Erb, and with one consent they went to -the bar, leaning on which Carmelita was sobbing painfully. The strain -and agony of the last twenty-four hours had been too much and she had -broken down. As they passed the two silent bodies, 'Erb stopped and -bent over Sergeant Legros, remarking: "Knows 'ow ter lie doggo, don't -'e--the ol' cunnin'-chops?" He fell silent a moment, and then in a very -different voice ejaculated, "Gawds-treuth 'e's _mort_, 'e is. 'E's -_tue_." - -John Bull and Reginald Rupert looked at each other, and then turned back -quietly to where the Sergeant was lying. - -"Cerebral hemorrhage," suggested John Bull. "I struck him on the side -of the head." - -"'Eart failure," suggested 'Erb. "I set on 'is 'ead till 'is 'eart -stopped, blimey!" - -"Apple Plexy, I opine," put in the Bucking Bronco. "All comes o' gittin' -excited, don't it?" - -"He certainly made himself perfectly miserable when I took his bayonet -away," admitted Legionary Rupert. - -"Anyhow, it's a fair swingin' job nah, wotever it was afore," said 'Erb. -Whatever the cause and whosesoever the hand, Sergeant Legros was -undoubtedly dead. They removed the belts, straightened his limbs, -closed his eyes and 'Erb placed the dead man's kepi over the face, -bursting as he did so into semi-hysterical song-- - - "Ours is a 'appy little 'ome, - I wisht I was a kipper on the foam, - There's no carpet on the door, - There's no knocker on the floor, - Oo! Ours is a 'appy little 'ome." - - -"Shut that damned row," said Legionary Rupert. - -"Carmelita, honey," said the Bucking Bronco, stroking the hair of the -weeping girl. "Yew got the brains. Wot'll we do? Shall we stop an' -look arter ye? Will yew come on pump with us? Will yew ketch the -nine-fifteen ter Oran? Yew could light out fer the railroad _de_-pot -right now--or will yew stick it out here, an' see ef they takes away -yure licence? They couldn't do nuthin' more.... Give it a name, little -gal--we've gotter hike quick, ef we ain't a-goin' ter stay." - -Carmelita controlled herself with an effort and dried her eyes. Not for -nothing had her life been what it had. - -"You must all go at once," she said unhesitatingly. "Take Signor -Rupert's money and make for Mendoza's in the Ghetto. He'll sell you -mufti and food. Change, and then run, all night, along the railway. -Lie up all day, and then run all night again. Then take different -trains at different wayside stations, one by one, and avoid each other -like poison in Oran; and leave by different boats on different days. I -shall stay here. After trying for some hours to revive Legros, I shall -send for the picket. You will be far from Sidi then. I shall give the -Police all information as to the fight, and as to the murder of _that_, -by Malvin; and shall conceal nothing of Legros' murderous attempt upon -the Legionnaire Bouckaing Bronceau and of his death by _apoplessia_.... -They will see he has no wound.... This will give weight and truth to my -evidence to the effect that it was a fair, clean fight and that no blame -attaches to le Legionnaire Bouckaing Bronceau.... Where am I to blame? -... No, you can leave me without fear. Also will I give evidence to -having heard you plotting to make the promenade in different directions -and to avoid the railway and Oran...." - -The Bucking Bronco was overcome with admiration. - -"Ain't that horse-sense?" he ejaculated. - -Laying her hands upon his shoulders, Carmelita looked him in the eyes. - -"And when you write to me to join you also, dear Americano, I will -come," she said. "I, Carmelita, have said it.... Now that _that_ is -dead, I shall be able to save some money. Write to me when you are -safe, and I will join you wherever you are--whether it be Napoli or -Inghilterra or America." - -"God bless ye, little gal," growled the American, folding her in his -arms, and for the first time of his life being on the verge of an -exhibition of weakness. "We'll make our gitaway all right, an' we -couldn't be no use ter yew in prison hyar.... I'll earn or steal some -money ter send yer, Carmelita, honey." - -"I can help you there," put in Legionary Rupert. - -"You and your loose cash are the _deus ex machina_, Rupert, my boy," -said John Bull.... "But for you, the Russians would hardly have got -away so easily, and now a few pounds will make all the difference -between life and death to Buck and Carmelita, not to mention yourself -and 'Erb." - -"I am very fortunate," said Rupert, gracefully. "By the way, how much -have we left Carmelita?" he added. - -"Exactly seven hundred francs, Monsieur," she replied. "Monsieur drew -one thousand, he will remember, and the Russians after all, needed only -three hundred in addition to their own roubles." - -"What are you going to do, 'Erb?" asked John Bull. "You haven't -committed yourself very deeply you know. Legros can't give evidence -against you and I doubt whether Tant-de-Soif or Djoolte will.... I don't -suppose any of the others noticed you, but there's a risk--and ten years -of Dartmoor would be preferable to six months in the Penal Battalions. -What shall you do?" - -"Bung orf," replied 'Erb. "I'm fair fed full wiv Hafrica. Wot price -the Ol' Kent Road on a Sat'day night!" - -"Then seven hundred francs will be most ample for three of you, to get -mufti, railway tickets and tramp-steamer passages from Oran to Hamburg." - -"Why three?" asked Rupert. - -"You, Buck and 'Erb," replied John Bull. - -"Oh, I see. You have money for your own needs?" observed Rupert in some -surprise. - -"I'm not going," announced John Bull. - -"_What?_" exclaimed four voices simultaneously, three in English and one -in French. - -"I'm not going," he reiterated, "for several reasons.... To begin with, -I've nowhere to go. Secondly, I don't want to go. Thirdly, I did not -kill Legros," and, as an inducement to the Bucking Bronco to agree with -his wishes, he added, "and fourthly, I may be able to be of some service -to Carmelita if only by supporting her testimony with my evidence at the -trial--supposing that I am arrested." - -"Come off it, old chap," said Rupert. "There are a hundred men whose -testimony will support Carmelita's." - -"Wot's bitin' yew naow, John?" asked the Bucking Bronco. "Yew know it's -a plum' sure thing as haow it'll come out thet yew slugged Legros in the -year-'ole when we man-handled him. Won't that be enuff ter give yew -five-spot in Biribi?" - -"Yus. Wot cher givin' us, Ole Cock?" expostulated 'Erb. "Wot price -them blokes Malvin, an' Bower, an' Borjis, an' 'Ersh? Fink they'll shut -their 'eads? An' wot price that bloomin' psalm-smitin', Bible-puncher -of a George Washington of a Joolt? Wot price ole Tarntderswoff? Git 'im -in front of a court martial an' 'e wouldn't jabber, would 'e? Not arf, -'e wouldn't. I _don't_ fink." - -"And don't talk tosh, my dear chap, about having nowhere to go, please," -said Rupert. "You're coming home with me of course. My mother will -love to have you." - -"Thanks awfully, but I'm afraid I can't go to England," was the reply. -"I must..." - -"_Garn_," interrupted 'Erb. "I'm wanted meself, but I'm a-goin' ter -chawnst it. No need ter 'ang abaht Scotland Yard.... I knows lots o' -quiet juggers. 'Sides, better go where it's a risk o' bein' pinched -than stop where it's a dead cert.... Nuvver fing. You ain't goin' ter -be put away fer wot you done, Gawd-knows-'ow-many years ago. That's all -blowed over, long ago. Why you've bin 'ere pretty nigh fifteen year, -ain't yer? Talk sinse, Ole Cock--ain't yer jest said yer'd raver do a -ten stretch in Portland than 'arf a one in Biribi?" - -John Bull and Reginald Rupert smiled at each other. - -"Thanks awfully, Rupert," said the former, "but I can't go to England." -Turning to the Cockney he added, "You're a good sort, Herbert, my -laddie--but I'm staying here." - -"Shucks," observed the American with an air of finality, and turning to -Carmelita requested her to fetch the nuggets, the spondulicks, the -dope--in short, the wad. Carmelita disappeared into her little room and -returned in a few moments with a roll of notes. - -"Well, good-bye, my dear old chap," said John Bull, taking the -American's hand. "You understand all I can't say, don't you? ... -Good-bye." - -"Nuthin' doin', John," was the answer. - -"Hurry him off, Carmelita, we've wasted quite time enough," said John -Bull, turning to the girl. "If he doesn't go now and do his best for -himself, he doesn't love you. Do clear him out. It's death or penal -servitude if he's caught. He struck Legros before Legros even -threatened him--and Legros is dead." - -"You hear what Signor Jean Boule says. Are you going?" said Carmelita, -turning to the American. - -"No, my gal. I ain't," was the prompt reply. "How can I, Carmelita? ... -I'm his pal.... Hev' I got ter choose between yew an' him?" - -"Of course you have," put in John Bull. "Stay here and you will never -see her again. It won't be a choice between me and her then; it'll be -between death and penal servitude." - -The Bucking Bronco took Carmelita's face between his hands. - -"Little gal," he said, "I didn't reckon there was no such thing as -'love,' outside books, ontil I saw yew. Life wasn't worth a red cent -ontil yew came hyar. Then every time I gits inter my bunk, I thinks -over agin every word I'd said ter yew thet night, an' every word yew'd -said ter me. An' every mornin' when I gits up, I ses, 'I shall see -Carmelita ter-night,' an' nuthin' didn't jar me so long as that was all -right. An' when I knowed yew wasn't fer mine, because yew loved Loojey -Rivoli, then I ses, '_Hell!_' An' I didn't shoot 'im up because I see -how much yew loved him. An' I put up with him when he uster git fresh, -because ef I'd beat 'im up yew'd hev druv me away from the Caffy, an' -life was jest Hell, 'cause I knowed 'e was a low-lifer reptile an' yew'd -never believe it.... An' now yew've found 'im out, an' he's gorn, an' -yure mine--an' it's too late.... Will yew think I don't love yew, -little gal? ... Don't tell me ter go or I might sneak off an' leave John -in the lurch." - -"You can't help me, Buck," put in John Bull. "I shall be all right. -Who'll you benefit by walking into gaol?" - -The American looked appealingly at the girl, and his face was more -haggard and anxious than when he was fighting for his life. - -"This is my answer, Signor Bouckaing Bronceau," spake Carmelita. "Had -you gone without Signor Jean Boule, I should not have followed you. Now -I have heard you speak, I trust you for ever. Had you deserted your -friend in trouble, you would have deserted me in trouble. If Signor -Jean Boule will not go, then you must stay, for he struck Legros to save -your life, as you struck him to avenge me. Would _I_ run away while you -paid for that blow?..." - -Carmelita then turned with feminine wiles upon John Bull. - -"Since Signor Jean Boule will not go on pump," she continued, "you must -stay and be shot, or sent to penal servitude, and I must be left to -starve in the gutter." - -Sir Montague Merline came to the conclusion that after all the problem -of his immediate future was not settled. - -"Very well," said he, "come on. We'll cut over to Mendoza's and go to -earth. As soon as he has rigged us out, we'll get clear of Sidi." - -(He could always give himself up when they had to separate and he could -help them no more. Yes, that was it. He would pretend that he had -changed his mind and when they had to separate he would pretend that he -was going to continue his journey. He would return and give himself up. -Having told the exact truth with regard to his share in the matter, he -would take his chance and face whatever followed.) - -"_A rivederci_, Carmelita," said he and kissed her. - -"_Mille grazie_, Signor," replied Carmelita. "_Buon viaggio_," and wept -afresh. - -"So-long, Miss," said 'Erb. "Are we dahn'arted? _Naow!_" - -Carmelita smiled through her tears at the quaint English _ribaldo_, and -brought confusion on Reginald Rupert by the warmth of her thanks for his -actual and promised financial help.... - -"We'd better go separately to Mendoza's," said John Bull. "Buck had -better come last. I'll go first and bargain with the old devil. We -shan't be missed until the morning, but we needn't exactly obtrude -ourselves on people." - -He went out, followed a few minutes later by Rupert and 'Erb. - -Left alone with Carmelita, the Bucking Bronco picked her up in his arms -and held her like a baby, as with haggard face and hoarse voice he tried -to tell her of his love and of his misery in having to choose between -losing her and leaving her. Having arranged with her that he should -write to her in the name of Jules Lebrun from an address which would not -be in France or any of her colonies, the Bucking Bronco allowed himself -to be driven from the back door of the Cafe. Carmelita's last words -were-- - -"Good-bye, _amato_. When you send for me I shall come, and you need not -wait until you can send me money." - - - Sec.3 - -The good Monsieur Mendoza, discovered in a dirty unsavoury room, at the -top of a broken winding staircase of a modestly unobtrusive, windowless -house, in a dirty unsavoury slum of the Ghetto, was exceedingly -surprised to learn that le Legionnaire Jean Boule had come to _him_, of -all people in the world, for assistance in deserting. - -The surprise of le bon Monsieur Mendoza was in itself surprising, in -view of the fact that the facilitation of desertion was his profession. -Still, there it was, manifest upon his expressive and filthy -countenance, not to mention his expressive and filthy hands, which -waggled, palms upward, beside his shrugged shoulders, as he gave vent to -his pained astonishment, not to say indignation, at the Legionary's -suggestion.... He was not that sort of man.... Besides, how did he -know that Monsieur le Legionnaire had enough?... - -John Bull explained patiently to le bon Monsieur Mendoza, of whose -little ways he knew a good deal, that he had come to him because he was -subterraneously famous in the Legion as the fairy god-papa who could, -with a wave of his wand, convert a uniformed Legionnaire into a most -convincing civilian. Further, that he was known to be wholly reliable -and incorruptibly honest in his dealings with those who could afford to -be his god-sons. - -All of which was perfectly true. - -(Monsieur Mendoza did not display a gilt-lettered board upon the wall of -his house, bearing any such inscription as "_Haroun Mendoza, Desertion -Agent. Costumier to Poumpistes and All who make the Promenade. -Desertions arranged with promptitude and despatch. Perfect Disguises a -Speciality. Foreign Money Changed. Healthy Itineraries mapped out. -Second-hand Uniforms disposed of. H.M.'s Agents and Interpreters meet -All Trains at Oran; and Best Berths secured on all Steamers. Convincing -Labelled Luggage Supplied. Special Terms for Parties_...." nor -advertise in the _Echo d'Oran_, for it would have been as unnecessary as -unwise....) - -All very well and all very interesting, parried Monsieur Mendoza, but -while compliments garlic no _caldo_, shekels undoubtedly make the mule -to go. Had le bon Legionnaire shekels? - -No, he had not, but they would very shortly arrive. - -"And how many shekels will arrive?" enquired the good Monsieur Mendoza. - -"Sufficient unto the purpose," was the answer, and then the bargaining -began. For the sum of fifty francs the Jew would provide one Legionary -with a satisfactory suit of clothes. The hat, boots, linen and tie -consistent with each particular suit would cost from thirty to forty -francs extra.... Say, roughly, a hundred francs for food and complete -outfit, per individual. The attention of the worthy Israelite was here -directed to the incontrovertible fact that he was dealing, not with the -Rothschild brothers, but with four Legionaries of modest ambition and -slender purse. To which, M. Mendoza replied that he who supped with the -Devil required not only a long, but a golden spoon. In the end, it was -agreed that, for the sum of three hundred francs, four complete outfits -should be provided. - -The next thing was the production and exhibition of the promised -disguises. Would M. Mendoza display them forthwith, that they might be -selected by the time that the other clients arrived? - -"_Si, si_," said M. Mendoza. "_Ciertamente. Con placer_." It was no -desire of M. Mendoza that any client should be expected _comprar a -ciegas_--to buy a pig in a poke. No, _de ningun modo_.... - -Shuffling into an inner room, the old gentleman returned, a few minutes -later, laden with a huge bundle of second-hand clothing. - -"Will you travel as a party--say two tourists and their servants? Or as -a party of bourgeoisie interested in the wine trade? Or--say worthy -artisans or working men returning to Marseilles? ... What do you say to -some walnut-juice and haiks--wild men from the _Tanezrafet_? One of you -a Negro, perhaps (pebbles in the nostrils), carrying an _angareb_ and a -bundle. I could let you have some _hashish_.... I could also arrange -for camels--it's eighty miles to Oran, you know.... Say, three francs a -day, per camel, and _bakshish_ for the men.... Not _meharis_ of course, -but you'll be relying more on disguise than speed, for your escape...." - -"No," interrupted John Bull. "It only means more trouble turning into -Europeans again at Oran. We want to be four obvious civilians, of the -sort who could, without exciting suspicion, take the train at a wayside -station." - -"What nationalities are you?" enquired the Jew. - -"English," was the reply. - -"Then take my advice and don't pretend to be French," said the other, -and added, "Are any of the others gentlemen?" - -Sir Montague Merline smiled. - -"One," he said. - -"Then you and that other had better go as what you are--English -gentlemen. If you are questioned, do not speak too good French, but get -red in the face and say, 'Goddam' ... Yes, I think one of you might have -a green veil round his hat.... the others might be horsey or seamen.... -Swiss waiters.... Music-hall artistes.... Or German touts, bagmen or -spies.... Father Abraham! That's an idea! To get deported as a German -spy! Ha, ha!" There was a knock at the door.... - -"_Escuche!_" he whispered with an air of mystery, and added, "_Quien -esta ahi?_" - -"It's the Lord Mayor o' Lunnon, Ole Cock," announced 'Erb as he entered. -"Come fer a new set of robes an' a pearly 'at." - -"That one can go either as a dismissed groom, making his way back to -England, or an out-of-work Swiss waiter," declared Mendoza, as his -artist eye and ear took in the details of 'Erb's personality. - -A great actor and actor manager had been lost in le bon M. Mendoza, and -he enjoyed the work of adapting disguises according to the possibilities -of his clients, almost as much as he enjoyed wrangling and bargaining, -for their last sous. A greedy and grasping old scoundrel, no doubt, but -once you entrusted yourself to M. Mendoza you could rely upon his -performing his part of the bargain with zeal, honesty, and secrecy. - -The two Legionaries divested themselves of their uniforms and put on the -clothes handed to them. - -Another knock, and Rupert came in. - -"Hallo, Willie Clarkson," said he to Mendoza, who courteously replied -with a "_Buenas tardes, senor_." - -"That one will be an English caballero," he observed. - -"Thought I should never get here," said Rupert. "Got into the wrong -rabbit-warren," and took off his tunic. - -The Jew did not "place" the Bucking Bronco immediately upon his -entrance, but studied him carefully, for some minutes, before announcing -that he had better shave off his moustache and be a Spanish fisherman, -muleteer, or sailor. If questioned, he might tell some tale, in -execrable French, of a wife or daughter kidnapped at Barcelona and -traced to a Tlemcen brothel. He should rave and be violent and more -than a little drunk.... - -And could the worthy M. Mendoza supply a couple of good revolvers with -ammunition? - -"_Si, si,_" said M. Mendoza. "_Ciertamente. Con placer_. A most -excellent one of very large calibre and with twenty-eight rounds of -ammunition for forty francs, and another of smaller calibre and longer -barrel, but with, unfortunately, only eleven rounds for thirty-five -francs...." - -"Keep your right hand in your pocket, each of you," said M. Mendoza as -they parted, "or you'll respectfully salute the first Sergeant you -meet...." - - - Sec.4 - -The two Englishmen, in light summer suits, one wearing white buckskin -boots, the other light brown ones, both carrying gloves and light canes, -attracted no second glance of attention as they strolled along the -boulevard, nor would anyone have suspected the vehement beating of their -hearts as they passed the Guard at the gate in the fortification walls. - -Similarly innocent of appearance, was an ordinary-looking and humble -little person who shuffled along, round-shouldered, shrilly whistling -"Viens Poupoule, viens Poupoule, viens." - -Nor more calculated to arouse suspicion in the breast of the most -observant Guard, was the big, slouching, blue-jowled Spaniard, who -rolled along with his _beret_ over one eye, and his cigarrillo pendent -from the corner of his mouth. The distance separating these from the -two English gentlemen lessened as the latter, leaving the main -promenades, passed through a suburb and, turning to the right, followed -a quiet country road, which led to a railway station. - -Making a wide detour and avoiding the station, the four, marching -parallel with the railway line, headed north for Oran. - -So far, so good. They were clear of Sidi-bel-Abbes and they were free. -Free, but in the greatest danger. The next thing was to get clear of -Africa and from beneath the shadow of the tri-couleur. - -"_Free!_" said Rupert, as the other two joined him and John Bull, and -drew a long, deep breath, as of relief. - -"Not a bit of it, Rupert," said John Bull. "It's merely a case of a -good beginning and a sporting chance." - -"Anyhow, well begun's half done, Old Thing. I feel like a boy let out -of school," and he began to sing-- - - "Si tu veux - Faire mon bonheur, - Marguerite, Marguerite, - Si tu veux - Faire mon bonheur, - Marguerite, donne-moi ton coeur, - -You'll have to sing that, Buck, and put 'Carmelita' for 'Marguerite,'" -he added. - -"Business first," interrupted John Bull. "This is the programme. We'll -go steady all night at the 'quick' and the 'double' alternately, and -five minutes' rest to the hour. If we can't do thirty miles by -daylight, we're no Legionaries. Sleep all day to-morrow, in the shadow -of a boulder, or trees.... By the way, we mustn't fetch up too near Les -Imberts or we might be seen by somebody while we're asleep. Les Imberts -is about thirty miles from Sidi, I believe. To-morrow night, we'll do -another thirty miles and that'll bring us to Wady-el-hotoma. From there -I vote we go independently by different trains...." - -"That's it," agreed Rupert. "United for defence--separated for -concealment. We'd better hang together as far as Wady-what-is-it, in -case a Goum patrol overtakes us." - -"Why not bung orf from this 'ere Lace Imbear?" enquired 'Erb. "Better'n -doin' a kip in the desert, and paddin' the 'oof another bloomin' night. -I'm a bloomin' gennelman naow, Ole Cock. I ain't a lousy Legendary." - -"Far too risky," replied John Bull. "We should look silly if Corporal -Martel and a guard of men from our own _chambree_ were on the next -train, shouldn't we? Whichever of us went into the station would be -pinched. The later we hit the line the better, though on the other hand -we can't hang about too long. We're between the Devil and the Deep -Sea--station-guards and mounted patrols." - -It occurred to the Bucking Bronco that his own best "lay" would be an -application of the art of "holding her down." In other words, waiting -outside Sidi-bel-Abbes railway station until the night train pulled out, -and jumping on to her in the darkness and "decking her"--in other words, -climbing on to the roof and lying flat. As a past-master in "beating an -overland," he could do this without the slightest difficulty, leaving -the train as it slowed down into stations and making a detour to pick it -up again as it left. Before daylight he could leave the train -altogether and book as a passenger from the next station (since John -strongly advised against walking into Oran by road, as that was the way -a penniless Legionary might be expected to arrive). By that means he -would arrive at Oran before they were missed at roll-call in the -morning. Should he, by any chance, be seen and "ditched" by what he -called the "brakemen" and "train-crew," he would merely have "to hit the -grit," and wait for the next train. Yes, that's what he would do if he -were alone--but the four of them couldn't do it, even if they possessed -the necessary nerve, skill and endurance--and he wasn't going to leave -them. - -"Come on, boys, _en avant, marche_," said John Bull, and they started on -their thirty-mile run, keeping a sharp look-out for patrols, and halting -for a second to listen for the sound of hoofs each time they changed -from the _pas gymnastique_ to the quick march. Galloping hoofs would -mean a patrol of Arab gens-d'armes, the natural enemies of the -_poumpiste_, the villains who make a handsome bonus on their pay by -hunting white men down like mad dogs and shooting them, as such, if they -resist. (It is not for nothing that the twenty-five francs reward is -paid for the return of a deserter "_dead_ or alive.") - -On through the night struggled the little band, keeping as far from the -railway as was possible without losing its guidance. When a train -rolled by in the distance, the dry mouth of the Bucking Bronco almost -watered, as he imagined himself "holding her down," "decking her," -"riding the blind," or perhaps doing the journey safely and comfortably -in a "side-door Pullman" (or goods-waggon). - -Before daylight, the utterly weary and footsore travellers threw -themselves down to sleep in the middle of a collection of huge boulders -that looked as though they had been emptied out upon the plain from a -giant sack. During the night they had passed near many villages and had -made many detours to avoid others which lay near the line, as well as -farms and country houses, surrounded by their fig, orange and citron -trees, their groves of date-palms, and their gardens. For miles they -had travelled over sandy desert, and for miles through patches of -cultivation, vineyards and well-tilled fields. They had met no one and -had heard nothing more alarming than the barking of dogs. Now they had -reached an utterly desert spot, and it had seemed to the leader of the -party to be as safe a place as they would find in which to sleep away -the day. It was not too near road, path, building, or cultivation, so -far as he could tell, and about a mile from the railway. The cluster of -great rocks would hide them from view of any possible wayfarer on foot, -horseback, or camel, and would also shelter them from the rays of the -sun. He judged that they were some two or three miles from Les Imberts -station, and four or five from the village of that name. - -The next trouble would be water. They'd probably want water pretty -badly before they got it. Perhaps it would rain. That would give them -water, but would hardly improve the chances of himself and Rupert as -convincing tourists. Thank Heaven they had a spare clean collar each, -anyhow. Good old Mendoza. What an artist he was!... - -John Bull fell asleep. - - - Sec.5 - -"Look, my brothers! Behold!" cried "Goum" Hassan ibn Marbuk, an hour -later, as he reined in his horse and pointed to where the footprints of -four men left a track and turned off into the desert. "Franzwazi--they -wear boots. It is they. Allah be praised. A hundred francs for us, -and death for four Roumis. Let us kill the dogs." - -Turning his horse from the road, he cantered along the trail of the -footsteps, followed by his two companions. - -"Allah be praised!" he cried again. "But our Kismet is good. Had it -been but five minutes earlier it would have been too dark to notice -them." - -"The footprints lead into that el Ahagger," he added later, pointing to -the group of great boulders. - -The three men drew their revolvers and rode in among the rocks. The -leading Arab gave a cry of joy and covered Rupert, who was nearest to -him. As the Arab shouted, John Bull awoke and, even as he opened his -eyes, yelled "_Aux armes!_" at the top of his voice. (He had shouted -those words and heard them shouted, off and on, for fifteen years.) As -he cried out, Hassan ibn Marbuk changed his aim from Rupert to John Bull -and fired. The report of the revolver was instantly followed by three -others in the quickest succession. John Bull's cry had awakened the -Bucking Bronco and that wary man had slept with his "gun" in his hand. -A second after Hassan ibn Marbuk fired, the Bucking Bronco shot him -through the head, and then with lightning rapidity and apparently -without aim, fired at the other two "Goums" who were behind their -leader. Not for nothing had the Bucking Bronco been, for a time, trick -pistol-shot in a Wild West show. Hassan ibn Marbuk fell from his -saddle, the second Arab hung over his horse's neck, and the third, after -a convulsive start, drooped and slowly bent backward, until he lay over -the high crupper of his saddle. - -"Arabs ain't no derned good with guns," remarked the Bucking Bronco, as -he rose to his feet, though it must, in justice, be admitted that the -leading Arab had decidedly screened the view, and hampered the activity -of the other two as he emerged from the little gully between two mighty -rocks. - -"Gawd luvvus," said 'Erb, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Done in -three coppers in a bloomin' lump!" - -The Bucking Bronco secured the horses. - -"I say," said Rupert, who was bending over Sir Montague Merline, "Bull's -badly hit." - -"Ketch holt, quick," cried the Bucking Bronco, holding out to 'Erb the -three reins which he had drawn over the horses' heads. He threw himself -down beside his friend and swore softly, as his experienced eye -recognised the unmistakable signs. - -"Is he dying?" whispered Rupert. - -"His number's up," groaned the American. - -"Done in by a copper!" marvelled 'Erb, and, putting his arm across his -face, he leaned against the nearest horse and sobbed.... He was a -child-like person, and, without knowing it, had come to centre all his -powers of affection on John Bull. - -The dying man opened his eyes. "Got it where the chicken got the axe," -he whispered. "Good-bye, Buck.... See you in the ... Happy Hunting -Grounds ... I hope." - -The Bucking Bronco looked at Rupert. - -"Carmelita put thisyer brandy in my pocket, Rupert," he said producing a -medicine bottle. "Shall I dope him?" - -He coughed and swallowed, his mouth and chin twitched and worked, and -tears trickled down his face. - -"Can't do much harm," said Rupert, and took the bottle from the -American's shaking hand. - -The brandy revived the mortally wounded man. - -"Good-bye, Rupert," he said. "I advise you to go straight down to Les -Imberts station ... and take the next train.... There will be a patrol -... after this patrol ... before long. You can't lie up here for long -now.... Buck might take a horse and gallop for it.... Lie up somewhere -else.... And ride to Oran to-night.... 'Erb should go as Rupert's -servant ... or by a different train.... Remember Mendoza's tips." - -The stertorous, wheezy breathing was painfully interrupted by a paroxysm -of coughing. - -"Much pain, old chap?" asked the white-faced Rupert, as he wiped the -blood from his friend's lips. - -"No," whispered Sir Montague Merline. "I am dead ... up to ... the -heart.... Expanding bullet.... Lungs ... and spine ... I ... ex- ... -pect. Shan't be ... long." - -"Anything I can do--any message or anything?" asked Rupert. - -The dying man closed his eyes. - -The Bucking Bronco was frankly blubbering. Turning to the dead "Goum" -who had shot his friend, he swore horribly, and deplored that the man -was dead and beyond the reach of his further vengeance. He fell -instantly silent as his stricken friend spoke again. - -"If you ... get ... to Eng ... land, Rupert ... will ... you go ... to -... my wife? She's Lady..." he whispered. - -"Yes--Lady ... _who_?" asked Rupert eagerly. - -"NO," continued the dying man, in a stronger voice, as he opened his -eyes. "I never ... had ... a ... wife." - -Silence again. - -"Why _Marguerite_ ... My ... darling ... girl. _Darling_ ... at ... -last. _Marguerite_." - -Sir Montague Merline's problem was solved, and the last of his wages -paid.... - - - Sec.6 - - -The Honourable Reginald Rupert Huntingten never forgot the hour that -followed. The three broken-hearted men buried their friend in a -shallow, sandy grave and piled a cairn of rocks and stones above the -spot. It gave them a feeling akin to pleasure to realise that every -minute devoted to this labour of love, lessened their chance of escape. - -Their task accomplished, they shook hands and parted--the Bucking Bronco -incapable of speech. Before he rode away, Huntingten thrust a piece of -paper into his hand, upon which he had scribbled: "_R. R. Huntingten, -Elham Old Hall, Elham, Kent,_" and said, "Wire me there. Or--better -still, come--and we'll arrange about Carmelita." - -The Bucking Bronco rode away in the cool of the morning. - -Having settled by the toss of a coin whether he or 'Erb should attempt -the next train, he gave that grief-stricken warrior the same address and -invitation. - -With a crushing hand-clasp they parted, and Huntingten, with a light and -jaunty step, and a sore and heavy heart, set forth for the station of -Les Imberts to put his nerve and fortune to the test. - - - - - EPILOGUE - - -"Well, good night, my own darling Boy," said the beautiful Lady -Huntingten, as she lit her candle from that of her son, by the table in -the hall. "Don't keep Father up all night, if he and General Strong -come to your bedroom." - -"Good night, dearest," replied he, kissing her fondly. - -Setting down her candlestick, she took him by the lapels of his coat as -though loth to let him out of her sight and part with him, even for the -night. - -"Oh, but it is good to have you again, darling," she murmured, gazing -long at his bronzed and weather-beaten face. "You won't go off again -for a long, long time, will you? And we must keep your promise to that -wholly delightful 'Erb, if it's humanly possible. But I really cannot -picture him as a discreet and silent-footed valet.... I simply loved -him and the Bucking Bronco. I don't know which is the more precious and -priceless.... I do so wonder whether he'll be happy with his -Carmelita.... I shall love seeing her." - -"Yes, 'Erb and Buck are great birds," replied her son, "but poor old -John Bull was the chap." - -"Poor man, how awful--with freedom in sight.... You knew nothing of his -story?" she asked. - -"Absolutely nothing, dearest. All I know about him is that he was one -of the very best. Funny thing, y' know, Mother--I simply lived with -that chap, night and day, for a year, and know no more about him than -just that. That, and his marks--and by Jove, he'd got some.... Simply -a mass of scars, beginning with the crown of his head, where was a hole -you could have laid your thumb in. Been about a bit, too; fought in -China, Madagascar, West Africa, the Sahara and Morocco, in the Legion. -Certainly been in the British Army--in Africa, too. I fancy he'd been a -sailor as well--anyhow he'd been in Japan and got the loveliest bit of -tattooing I ever set eyes on. Wonderful colours--snake winding round -his wrist and up his forearm. Thing looked alive though it had been -done for over thirty years. Nagasaki, I think he said...." He yawned -hugely. "But here I am rambling on about a person you never saw, and -keeping you up," he added. He bent to kiss his mother again. - -"Mother!--_darling_! Don't you feel well? Here, I'll get you a little -brandy." - -Lady Huntingten was clutching at the edge of the table, and staring at -her son, white-lipped. Her face looked drawn and suddenly old. - -"No, no," she said. "Come back. I--sometimes--a little..." and she sat -down on the oak settle beside the table. - -"The heat ..." she continued incoherently. "There, I'm all right now. -Tell me some more about this--John Bull.... He _is_ dead? ... You -buried him yourself, you said." - -"Yes, poor old chap, it was awful." - -"And he gave you no messages for his people? He did not tell you his -real name?" - -"No. Nothing. He's taken his story with him. The last words he said -were 'Will you go and tell my wife, Lady...' and there he pulled himself -up, and said he never had a wife. But he had, I'm sure--and he called -to her by her Christian name. As he died, he cried out, '_At last--my -darling--_'" - -"_Marguerite_," whispered Lady Huntingten. - - - - - Made and Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner Ltd., Frome and - London - - - - - * * * * * - - - - - ALSO BY P. C. WREN - - - BEAU GESTE - -"Well-told, absorbing romance."--_Morning Post_. - -"A story of rare quality from every point of view."--_Daily Telegraph_. - -"Told with rare skill and delicacy."--_Westminster Gazette_. - -"A most stimulating, and at times hair-raising, story of -adventure."--_Daily Graphic_. - -"Very exciting reading."--_Spectator_. - -"A spanking yarn, brimming with high spirits and vitality."--_The New -Statesman_. - -"His Algerian pen-pictures are quite unusually forceful and -descriptive."--_The Field_. - -"Unquestionably a great story."--_Truth_. - -"Should find a big public."--_The Graphic_. - -"The best kind of wholesome romance and the best of all its author's -books. A splendid story very splendidly told."--_T.P.'s and Cassell's -Weekly_. - -"A wonderfully vivid and enthralling piece of work."--_John o' London's -Weekly_. - -"If you want romance of the healthiest kind, 'Beau Geste' will give it -you."--_Bystander_. - -"A really stirring and romantic story."--_Queen_. - -"One of the best and strangest adventure stories of recent years."--_The -Gentlewoman_. - -"One of the most exciting stories we have read for many a long -day--ingenious and thrilling."--_Guardian_. - -"A story to stir the pulses: a vivid picture."--_Christian World_. - -"Its swift popularity is well deserved; it is a novel of high -quality."--_Oxford Chronicle_. - -"Deserves every whit of the success which it is now -attaining."--_Manchester Guardian_. - -"One of the very best novels that we have read for a very long -time."--_Western Mail_. - - -ILLUSTRATED EDITION, with coloured and black-and-white Drawings by Helen -McKie. 7s. 6d. net. - -Also an Edition-de-luxe, limited to 600 copies for sale in England, -numbered and signed by the Author, 21s. net. - -FIRST CHEAP EDITION. Without Illustrations. 3s. 6d. net. - - - - BEAU SABREUR - - _First Cheap Edition. 3s. 6d. net_ - -In this latest story, Major Wren presents the fascinating life and -personality of that Major Henri de Beaujolais who appeared in "Beau -Geste." It is a typical Wren story--healthy, gripping romance plus -mystery and adventure--based on the conflict between the claims of love -and duty. - -Spahis, legionaries, touaregs, play their several parts with intense -reality, while over all flares the pitiless sun of those desert wastes -in Northern Africa. A novel which is being read and enjoyed in all -parts of the world. - - - - THE WAGES OF VIRTUE - - _3s. 6d. net and 2s. net_ - -"A story of the French Foreign Legion ... the tale's the thing, no -doubt--but by no means the whole thing either, for not only is it told -with verve and real, if unobtrusive human sympathy, but it abounds -richly in various kinds of knowledge as well as Legionary lore.... It -is all skilfully worked out, and we leave it with the utmost confidence -to more than one kind of reader. There is strong internal evidence that -the author knows something of this amazing life (amazing even in these -times) from the inside. Furthermore, he uses with great effect a quite -astonishing acquaintance with many vernaculars to emphasize the motley -of many-hued characters and circumstances showing beneath the common -uniform."--_The Times_. - - - - STEPSONS OF FRANCE - - _3s. 6d. net and 2s. net_ - -"Those who have read Captain Wren's 'The Wages of Virtue' will renew -with pleasure their acquaintance with several of its principal -characters.... Old Jean Boule moves through these pages like the good -angel he is, and the Bucking Broncho and 'Erb 'Iggins are also here to -provide humour when it is needed."--_Yorkshire Post_. - -"The stories themselves are extraordinarily thrilling--sometimes -uncomfortably thrilling."--_Bystander_. - - - - DEW AND MILDEW - - _First Cheap Edition. 3s. 6d. net_ - -"Immense snap, vivacity and resource."--_The Times_. - -"Highly interesting to the lover of the mysterious. Told with dramatic -force."--_Western Daily Press_. - -"Fascinating, powerful, amusing, and clever. All who love Kipling will -admire Wren."--_Occult Review_. - - - - DRIFTWOOD SPARS - - _First Cheap Edition. 3s. 6d. net_ - -A richly coloured novel of the East, full of dramatic incident, in which -every grade of Society is represented. The central figure is the son of -a Scottish mother and a Pathan father, and his duality of temperament -makes him peculiarly fitted for the perilous tasks he undertakes. His -adventures form a story of unusual power. - - - - THE SNAKE AND THE SWORD - - _First Cheap Edition. 3s. 6d. net_ - -"A really dramatic story."--_Evening Standard_. - -"A story often tragic in its incident but powerful in holding the -reader's interest."--_Glasgow Herald_. - -"A rousing exciting story, it presents a convincing, vivid -picture."--_The Bookman_. - -"An extraordinary story."--_Daily Graphic_. - -"Full of exciting but unusual incidents."--_Daily Telegraph_. - - - - FATHER GREGORY - - _First Cheap Edition. 3s. 6d. net_ - -"A queer and interesting company depicted with entertaining and not -unsympathetic skill, always picturesque, and sometimes -affecting."--_Scotsman_. - -"A peculiarly interesting book and one to be unreservedly -recommended."--_Liverpool Post_. - -"Well worth reading."--_The Athenaeum_. - -"Original and cleverly told."--_Literary World_. - -"Varied and enjoyable."--_The Times_. - - - - THE YOUNG STAGERS - - _New and Enlarged Edition. 3s. 6d. net_ - -Being further Faites and Gestes of the Junior Curlton Club of Karabad, -India, this delightful book is quite different from the adventurous -fiction in which Major Wren has made his name. 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