Page:Harold Lamb--Marching Sands.djvu/101

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Delabar Leaves

swept the plain. Hardship brings out the strength and weakness of men. In his case it was weakness. Yet he seemed curiously alarmed at leaving Gray. Twelve hours ago he had implored his companion to give up the venture into the Gobi.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"For two reasons. I don't want a sick man on my hands. And—you tried to destroy the maps. There's another reason——" Gray hesitated, and broke off. "I don't claim to be your judge. Every man follows his own course in life. But yours and mine don't fit any longer. It's good-by, Professor."

He rose, knocking the ashes from his pipe. Delabar gave an exclamation of alarm.

"Suppose the men of Wu Fang Chien find me?"

"You'll be safer than here with me."

Delabar stared into the steady eyes of his companion, and his gaze shifted. "I can't go back. I must go with you."

"I've said good-by. Your coolie knows what he's to do. Choose your two mules."

"No. I'll be better now——"

Gray smiled slightly.

"I doubt it. I've been watching you. Closer than you thought. Which mules do you want?"

Delabar flushed, and turned his animal back to the waiting group. He was muttering to himself uncertainly. Gray walked beside him. Once he

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