Terence O'Rourke, Gentleman Adventurer
Near at hand was the elaborate marquee of Monsieur l'Empereur, glowing with light. By its side stood another, almost as imposing a tent, which had been erected for the use of Madame la Princesse alone. Farther removed were others—tents for Monsieur le Prince, for Mouchon and D'Ervy (whom O'Rourke could hit upon no plausible excuse for banishing), as well as for the soldiery and the servants.
As the two stood watching, a corporal's guard of soldiers marched past under one whom O'Rourke had appointed a petty officer, until such time as he should get his organization perfected.
"Going to change the sentries," remarked O'Rourke. "'Tis near midnight. Faith," he yawned wearily, "a long day it has been for me!"
"You've posted a guard, then?"
"All around the edge of the oasis. I don't trust monsieur, the Tawarek, any farther than I can see him. From as much as I observed of Ibeni, or whatever his name is, he's a chap that is likely to keep his word; but we'll take care to hold him at his distance, anyway."
"And Monsieur le Prince?"
"Oh—fudge! "cried O'Rourke good-humoredly. "Does the man still worry ye? Why, monsieur, he's down and out—a wind bag perforated."
"Don't be too sure. He is—"
As Chambret spoke he let the tent flap fall, and turned back to his chair. O'Rourke remained standing, his hands clasped behind him, laughing at Chambret's fears. Abruptly he chopped the laugh off short.
A shot rang through the camp.
O'Rourke wheeled about.
"Tawareks—so soon!" he cried.
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