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We should listen, by way of knowing just how the Legion was now composed. It consisted of the following: Adams, "Captain Alden," Bohannan, Bristol, Brodeur, Cracowicz, Emilio, Enemark, Frazíer, Grison, Janina, Lebon, Leclair, L'Heureux, Manderson, Menendez, Prisrend, Rennes, Seres, Simonds, Wallace. All the wounded had recovered sufficiently to be of some service.
Twenty-three men were still fit and active for service; and both Enemark and Lebon would in a few days be of help. "Man-power enough," thought the Master, as he laid out his campaign. "The only troublesome factors, are, first, Nissr's condition; second, our lack of water and supplies; and third, the possibility of interference from Arabs or European forces, by land or sea.
The Master gave no reply, but took from the rail the little phone that hung there, and pressed a button, four times. He cupped the receiver at his ear. "You, Enemark?" asked he, of the man at the neutralizer far down in the penetralia of the giant air-liner. "Throw in the first control. Half-voltage, for three minutes. Then three-quarters, for two; and then full, with all controls. Understand?"
"We can get no better terms. Even these are a miracle!" "My opinion, exactly," replied the Master, still facing Bara-Miyan, who had now stepped back a few paces and was flanked by two huge Arabs, in robes hardly less chromatic, who had silently advanced. "I accept," decided the Master. He turned, ordered Enemark and L'Heureux to fetch out the Apostate, and then remained quietly waiting.
The Master and Leclair were first to touch foot to the shelving bottom, all churned up by the long cavalry-charges of the sea-horses, and to drag themselves out of the smother. Rrisa and Bohannan came next, then Enemark, and then the others all save Beziers and Daimamoto, French ace and Japanese surgeon, whose work was forever at an end.
Enemark, engineer and scientist, shot through the left shoulder, was dragged ashore, strangling, by eager hands. "Down! Down!" shouted the Master. "Dig in!" Right well he knew the futility, the suicidal folly of trying to charge some three hundred entrenched men with a handful of panting, exhausted soldiers armed only with revolvers. "Take cover!" his cry rang along the beach. They obeyed.
"Not a bit of it! He's driving straight ahead. That was only a dip and turn, for better air. Ah, but he's good, that fellow! There's a man after my own heart, Major. Maybe there's more than one, aboard that plane. But there's one, anyhow, that's a real man!" The Master pondered a moment, then again picked up the phone. "Enemark?" he called. "That you?" "Hello! Yes, sir! What orders, sir?"
"Yes, sir!" came the crisp voice of Enemark. "Perfectly!" The Master hung up the receiver, and for a moment stood brooding. An intruding thought had once more forced itself into his brain a thought of "Captain Alden." In case of capture or destruction, what of the woman? Something very like a pang of human emotion pierced his heart.
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