“Dead. He had the misfortune to stop the sharp end of my blade during the skirmish between us.”
He said nothing of poor Taggert’s death. She would be sadly grieved over the jolly little reporter’s brave finish. Time enough when she questioned him, or noticed Taggert’s continued absence.
“You fought him for me, my brave! Ah, I should have died had you fallen!”
He took her in his arms again, while only the sun looked on.
“It was well that he died!” she broke out fiercely, without warning. “He lured me from out of our lines with a forged message which I thought you had written, Ro-bert. I was bound, taken to his tent, and a guard set over me. He made love to me, and laughed when I slapped his face. Then he left, but said he would soon tame me. When the battle turned against him, and his army was finally put to rout, his two guards set upon me. One, I stabbed to death, but this” (pointing to the Martian in the sand) “wrested the blade from me. I fled and he pursued me here.”
She shuddered, but went on with her self-appointed task of improving upon Robert’s indifferent bandaging.
“Little dove,” said Robert, irrelevantly—and was fittingly rewarded.
Hand in hand they turned toward the city. Before them lay several miles of sand, much of which was strewn with the bodies of those unfortunates who had fallen in battle. Wearily they picked their way, sadness in their hearts over the thought of the many brave hearts stilled, but, withal, a feeling of wonderful peace in having found each other safe.
An atmosphere of utter desolation hung all about them like an envelope of dread. Here and there a poor, wounded warrior raised himself to call for water or plead for aid. They gathered up some of the full canteens from those fallen, and from them gave relief to a number of thirst-tortured ones on their way. Where she could be of assistance, Zola stopped to apply a bandage, to bathe a fevered brow, to speak a word of comfort, and Robert assisted her.
Thus they had traversed nearly a mile when a commotion off to the southeast attracted their attention. A column of soldiers was marching toward them. The flag of the metropolis waving at its head dispelled their first fears. Robert guessed that it was a part of the right column returning with prisoners from its victorious attack. This conjecture subsequently proved correct.