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I reply? They could see for themselves that the Arabs had not entered and carried him off. Perhaps their minds were too full of the question: 'Where is Jean the Trumpeter?' for the other question to formulate itself.
I had made no reference to the disappearance of the trumpeter; but I knew that they had seen him enter the fort and had waited, as I did, for an astounding quarter of an hour, to see him come out again. They had watched me go in alone, at the end of that time, and had seen me emerge alone. What could I say?
It seemed to me to be best to say nothing on that subject, so I said it.
After a few minutes that seemed like a few hours, I bade Dufour take the men round the outbuildings, and then march them back to the oasis.
As he disappeared, last, down the stair, I called him back and we were alone together. Simultaneously we said the same words: 'Did you move it?'--and each of us knew that the other knew nothing about it!
I laughed loudly, if not merrily, and the Sergeant-Major produced the oath of a lifetime; in length and originality, remarkable even for the Legion.
'Quite so, Chef' said I. . . . 'Life grows a little complicated.'
'I'll give a complicated death to this farceur, when I find . . .' growled he as I motioned him to be off. 'Blood of the devil, I will!'
He clattered down the stairs, and, soon after, I heard his voice below, as he led the group of men across the courtyard.
'Not much here to terrify the great Rastignac, hein?' he jeered.
'But there is certainly something here to terrify me, my friend,' I observed to myself, and made my way back to my mule and the oasis. . . . In fact, I fled. . . .
Well, George, mon vieux, what do you think happened? Did the escouade obey and enter the fort like lambs, or did they refuse and successfully defy me, secure in the knowledge that the others would not fire on them?"
"You are alive to tell the tale, Jolly," was the reply. "That's the main thing."
"On account of the importance of a part of it to you, my George, eh?" smiled the Frenchman.
"Oh, not at all, old chap," Lawrence hastened to say, with a somewhat guilty smile. "Simply on account of the fact that you are spared to France and to your friends."
"I thank you, my little George. Almost might you be a Frenchman," said de Beaujolais, with an ironical bow. "But tell me, what do you think happened? Did they obey and enter, or did they refuse?"
"Give it up, Jolly. I can only feel sure that one of the two happened," replied Lawrence.
"And that is where you are wrong, my friend, for neither happened," continued de Beaujolais. "They neither obeyed and entered, nor disobeyed and stayed out!"
"Good Lord!" ejaculated Lawrence. "What then?"
And this time it was the Frenchman who suggested a little refreshment.
§8.
"Well, this is the last 'event' on that remarkable programme, mon cher Georges," resumed de Beaujolais a little later. "A very appropriate and suitable one too. . . . 'A delightful open-air entertainment concluded with fireworks,' as the reporters of fêtes champêtres say."
"Fireworks? Rifle-fire works do you mean?" asked Lawrence.
"No, my George, nothing to speak of. Just fireworks. Works of fire. . . . I will tell you. . . .
I let the moon get well up, and then sent my servant, Achmet, for the Sergeant-Major, and bade that good fellow to parade the men as before, with the fort a hundred paces in their rear, the garrison escouade on the right of the line.
This party would either march into the fort or not. If not--then the remainder would be ordered to right-form and shoot them where they stood, for disobedience in the field, practically in the presence of the enemy.
The remainder would either obey or not. If not--then I would at once give the order to 'pile arms.' If they did this, as they might, from force of habit, they would immediately be marched off to the oasis and would be 'arrested' by the non-commissioned officers and marched back to Tokotu, under escort of the Senegalese, to await court martial. If they did not pile arms, the non-commissioned officers were to come at once to me, and we would prepare to sell our lives dearly--for the men would mutiny and desert. Possibly a few of the men would join us, and there was a ghost of a chance that we might fight our way into the fort and hold it, but it was infinitely more probable that we should be riddled where we stood.
'Bien, mon Commandant,' said Dufour, as he saluted, and then, hesitatingly, 'Might I presume to make a request and a suggestion. May I stand by you, and Rastignac stand by me--with the muzzle of my revolver against his liver--it being clear that, at the slightest threat to you, Rastignac's digestion is impaired? If he knows that just this will happen, he also may give good advice to his friends. . . .'
'Nothing of the sort, Dufour,' I replied. 'Everything will proceed normally and properly, until the men themselves behave abnormally and improperly. We shall lead and command soldiers of France until we have to fight and kill, or be killed by, mutineers against the officers of France in the execution of their duty. Proceed.'
Would you have said the same, George? It seemed to me that this idea of the Sergeant-Major's was not much better than that of waiting for the Senegalese. Would you have done the same in my place?"
"I can only hope I should have had the courage to act as bravely and as wisely as you did, Jolly," was the reply.
"Oh, I am no hero, my friend," smiled de Beaujolais, "but it seemed the right thing to do. I had not in any way provoked a mutiny--indeed, I had stretched a point to avert it--and it was my business to go straight ahead, do my duty, and abide the result.
But it was with an anxious heart that I mounted the mule again and cantered over to the fort.
I had thought of going on a camel, for, it is a strange psychological fact, that if your hearers have to look up to you physically, they also have to look up to you metaphysically as it were. If a leader speaks with more authority from a mule than from the ground, and with more weight and power from a horse than from a mule, would he not speak with still more from a camel?
Perhaps--but I felt that I could do more, somehow, in case of trouble, if I could dash at assailants with sword and revolver. I am a cavalry man and the arme blanche is my weapon. Cold steel and cut and thrust, for me, if I had to go down fighting. You can't charge and use your sword on a camel, so I compromised on the mule--but how I longed for my Arab charger and a few of my Spahis behind me! It would be a fight then, instead of a murder. . . .
It was a weird and not unimpressive scene. That sinister fort, silver and black; the frozen waves of the ocean of sand, an illimitable silver sea; the oasis a big, dark island upon it; the men, statues, inscrutable and still.
What would they do? Would my next words be my last? Would a double line of rifles rise and level themselves at my breast, or would that escouade, upon whom everything depended, move off like a machine and enter the fort?
As I faced the men, I was acutely interested, and yet felt like a spectator, impersonal and unafraid. I was about to witness a thrilling drama, depicting the fate of one Henri de Beaujolais, quite probably his death. I hoped he would play a worthy part on this moonlit stage. I hoped that, even more than I hoped to see him survive the play. I was calm. I was detached. . . ."
George Lawrence sighed and struck a match.
"I cast one more look at the glorious moon and took a deep breath. If this was my last order on parade, it should be worthily given, in a voice deep, clear, and firm. Above all firm. And as my mouth opened, and my lower jaw moved in the act of speech--I believe it dropped, George, and my mouth remained open.
For, from that enigmatical, brooding, fatal fort--there shot up a tongue of flame!
'Mon Dieu! Regardez!' cried the Sergeant-Major, and