Maxwell appeared to smile as he had always done when his partner was unusually emphatic.
"He had excuses, Hilton, and I am past all desire for vengeance now. For one thing he recognized the señorita's gift to you. Still, for the sake of Miss Castro—and she promised to help me—I would advise you not to let him go free to continue his persecution of Dom Pedro. We both owe her a good deal, and I would like you, if possible, to tell her so. You might add my respectful remembrance, too. There is yet another point. Whatever my share of this gold may be, I bequeath it to you, with my blessing, on condition that you send the boys back happy, with as much cloth as they can carry, to wherever they came from. The poor devils served us faithfully. When I have rested, I would like to see Amadu. Then I think my work will be finished, and I can only await the summons to answer for what I have failed in. It will come before sunrise, Hilton."
An hour passed slowly while Dane listened to the ticking of his watch; then Maxwell opened his eyes again, and Dane beckoned to Amadu, who stood waiting without. He came in, still wearing the straight blade which had struck the murderer down, and stood like a bronze statue beside his master.
"I want to thank you for faithful service, Amadu," Maxwell said weakly. "You shall have the gun—you have won it—and whatever else you wish besides. We made two great journeys together, but I cannot take you with me now."
The big man bent until Maxwell's thin hand rested on his head. What they said Dane failed to comprehend, but Amadu seemed to do him homage, and when he rose, he moved slowly, with raised palms and head bent, backward out of the tent. Then as Maxwell's eyes closed he crouched in the entrance, with the steel, which caught the lamplight, lying naked across his knee.
"Often I lib for watch them white man so," he said softly. "No djinn or devil go near him now."
Maxwell said little further. He slept or lay unconscious for some time, and then just smiled for a moment as his eyes rested on the grim sentinel with the bronze limbs and raw blue draperies, guarding the entrance. When he next roused himself he laid his chilly hand on one of Dane's, and showed a faint sign of pleasure when his comrade's fingers closed upon it. Once again he murmured, but it was rather by the movements of his lips than by audible sound that Dane gathered the message:
"You will tell her I kept my promise."
That was his last effort, for when the night was almost gone the fingers which lay limp in Dane's grew rigid. Then Dane stood up stiffly, desolate, knowing that the spirit of Carsluith Maxwell had passed to find such rest as may be reserved for the souls of loyal gentlemen. But the dust claims that which sprang from it quickly in that land, and the comrade he left to mourn over him found his own endurance heavily taxed before the aliens who had helped him at his task took up their stations with weapons girt about them, a barbaric guard of honor, at the dead man's head and feet. It was Amadu who strapped the big revolver by its lanyard to his master's wrist, when, scattering a few of the heavy-scented lily blossoms, Dane folded the tired hands. Then they kept their vigil together, and it did not seem incongruous that dusky cattle thief and soldier of fortune should watch beside the English adventurer. Humanity is greater than color and creed, and it was as those who had suffered together they did their dead due honor.
The rain had ceased and a dazzling sunrise flamed across the forest when Dane stooped for a last glance at Carsluith Maxwell. The pain had faded from his face, and he lay in impressive serenity as one who rested with his work well done. Then the lonely survivor went out into the brightness of the morning with a grief that found no expression mingled in his heart with the lust of vengeance.