Marching Sands
admiration. Lack of vitality, more than the wound, made it impossible to get Hastings out of the Gobi alive. Knowing this, Sir Lionel treated his own situation as indifferently as he might have disposed of a routine question of drill.
"I didn't tell you about the lepers at first," he continued, "because I was afraid you might lack the nerve to go on. I wouldn't blame you. But I've seen you under fire—and I know better."
"I'm going after Mary," said Gray grimly.
Sir Lionel nodded.
"Of course. Not much of a chance; but—I'm glad." He coughed and wiped his lips. "You were right, Captain Gray. She—she told me what you said at Ansichow. I regret that she—offended you. I have spoiled her, you know. A dear girl" His cough silenced him.
Gray sought for words, and was silent. Neither man liked to reveal his feelings.
"My heedlessness brought Mary to Sungan, Captain Gray. Now I'm asking you to make good my mistake, if possible"
"Excellency!" The shaggy head of Mirai Khan appeared between the tent flaps. "I must speak with you."
Gray went outside, to find the Kirghiz scowling and ill at ease. In their faces the sun was vanishing over the plain of the Gobi, dyeing the bare, yellow
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