Why tell her about it? He had no ties; no aims; nothing to regret leaving. He had nothing but wealth which was useless to him, but which would lift her above all unhappiness after he was gone. And he could kill the desert rat as he would snuff out a candle. Yet--the thought of it gave him a qualm. The man was so contemptible; so unutterably low and vile and cowardly. To kill him would be like crushing vermin. He would not fight; he would cower and cringe and shriek. There might be a battle when they took De Launay for the "murder," of course, but even his passing, desperate as he might make it, would not entirely wipe out the disgrace of such a butchery. He was a soldier; a commander with a glorious record, and it went against the grain to go out of life in an obscure brawl brought on by the slaughter of this rat. Still, he had dedicated himself to the service of this girl, half in jest, perhaps, but it was the only service left to him to perform. He had lived his life; had his little day of glory. It was time to go. She was his wife and to her he would make his last gesture and depart, serving her. Then, as he looked at her, her eyes opened and flashed upon him. In their depths something gleamed, a new light more baffling than any he had seen there before. There was fire and softness, warmth and sweetness in it. He dropped on his knees beside the bunk. "What is it, _mon ami_?" Solange was smiling at him, a smile that drew him like a magnet. "Nothing," he said, and rose to his feet. Her hand had strayed lightly over his hair in that instant of forgetfulness. "I looked to see that you were comfortable." "You are changed," she said, uncertainly. "It is better so." He smiled at her. "Yes. I am changed again. I am the légionnaire. Nameless, hopeless, careless! You must sleep, _mon enfant_! Good night!" He brushed the hand she held out to him with his lips and turned to the door. As he went out she heard him singing softly: "_Soldats de la Légion, De la Légion Etrangère, N'ayant pas de Nation, La France est votre Mère._" He did not see that the light in her marvelous eyes had grown very tender. Nor did she dream that he had made a mat of his glory for her to walk upon. CHAPTER XX LOUISIANA! On the following morning, De Launay, finding his patients doing well, once more left the camp after seeing that everything was in order and food for the invalids prepared and set to their hands. Among Solange's effects he had found a pair of prism binoculars, which he slung over his shoulder. Then he made his way on foot to the lower end of the valley, up the encircling cliffs and out on the ridge which surrounded the crater.