The two young officers, for Easton had joined his friend, stood astounded when the native broke into a yell of laughter.
"He is mad, Easton; he is a mad nigger who has escaped from a lunatic asylum!" Skinner exclaimed. "Don't go near him; perhaps he bites, and you might get hydrophobia. How is this, sentry?" he asked, turning to the soldier, who had come up to the door. "How is it you let this mad nigger come in here?"
"I did not see him come in, sir," the sentry said; "he must have slipped in when my back was turned. I saw an officer come in half an hour ago, but I haven't seen anyone else."
"Well, move him out, sentry; prod him up with your bayonet if he won't go."
The sentry was about to enter the tent when Rupert gasped, "That is enough, Skinner; order him out. You will kill me with laughing."
"Clinton!" The word broke from the lips of Easton and Skinner simultaneously, while the sentry almost dropped his rifle in surprise at hearing his officer thus addressed in pure English by the native.
"It is all right, sentry, you can go," Easton said, recovering himself first from his astonishment; and then saying as soon as they were alone: "What on earth does this masquerade mean, Clinton? have you gone out of your mind?"
"Then you think I shall do, Easton?"
"Do!" Easton repeated, the truth dawning upon him. "You don't mean to say that you are going to carry out that scheme you talked about a month since?"
"Indeed I do, Easton. I have obtained the chief's permission. Major Kitchener is making the arrangements for me, and I hope in another three days to be out on the desert again. At any rate you will allow that as far as appearances go I can pass fairly as a native."