"And leave Sir Lionel to go alone into the Gobi?" "Yes. He's bound to take the risk. You are not. I'm afraid your uncle is too wrapped up in his researches to pay much heed to possible danger. I don't think a white woman should take the risk." Mary Hastings smiled slowly. She had a way of looking directly at a man--unlike most women--that disturbed Gray. He felt that he was blundering. "Sir Lionel," she replied, "has set his heart on being the first white man in Sungan. He has staked his reputation as a scientist on this expedition. You do not know how much it means to him. If he finds the Sungan ruins and the descendants of the Wusun, he will have vindicated his judgment. If he fails it will be his last expedition. It is hard for a man of his age to fail. He has many rivals, at home and--in America." "But you----" "Sir Lionel needs me. I attend to the management of the caravan. And he can not spare Ram Singh." She tossed her small head. "Don't you think, Captain Gray, you've tried enough to spoil our chances of success? Isn't it rather mean of you to try to frighten me into leaving _Sher Singh_?" Mary Hastings was suddenly growing angry. Gray was committing the unpardonable sin of endeavoring--so she assured herself--to separate uncle and niece. She wanted to be angrier than she was. But the wall perch was a bad strategic position for a display of temper, which she considered he had earned. "You know that it would weaken our chances of success to divide our caravan!" she accused, feeling for foothold on the stones beneath. Gray was unable to account for the swift change in mood. What had he said to offend her? He had meant it only for her good. "No, Miss Hastings," he flushed. "I simply wanted to warn you of real danger." The girl slid down the rocks to the earth. She stamped a neatly shod foot disdainfully. Gray was oblivious of the fact that the maneuver had been planned for this purpose. She was plainly very angry. He wondered why, miserably. "I thought you were a sportsman, Captain Gray--even if you were not a big game hunter as you pretended. I find I am mistaken. Good afternoon." "Good Lord!" Gray watched her slight figure return to the tent and set his teeth. "Good Lord!" He smiled ruefully. "Horse thief--schemer--I wonder if there's anything else that she thinks I am. Guess there's nothing else bad enough." He climbed down from his rocks and left the encampment, avoiding Ram Singh who was ushering in a line of coolies as he did so. The Sikh strode by with a scowl. So easily are quarrels made. And a woman, so fate has ordained, has the first voice in their making. But it is doubtful if Mary Hastings herself could have explained why she treated Gray as she did. Divinely is it decreed that a woman may not be asked to explain to a man.