"I know their guilt, sir. Through their carelessness in not having discovered the stowaway and in having let him escape, the Legion came near sudden death. I know _Nissr_ is a wreck, because of them. Still, we need men, and those two are good fighters. Above all, we need Lombardo, the doctor I ask you to spare them at least their lives!" "That is the woman's heart in you speaking, now," the chief answered, coldly. His eyes were far ahead, where the war-party was beginning to debouch on the white sands along the shore--full three hundred fighting-men, or more, well armed, as the tiny sparkles of sunlight flicking from weapons proved. As _Nissr_ drew in to land, the Beni Harb grew visible to the naked eye, like a swarm of ants on the desert rim. "The woman's heart," repeated the Master. "That is your only fault and weakness, that you are a woman and that you forgive." "You grant my request?" "No, Captain. Nor can I even discuss it. Those two men have cut themselves off from the Legion and signed their own death warrant. The sentence I have decided on, must stand. Do not speak of this to me again, madam! Now, kindly withdraw." "Yes, sir!" And Alden, saluting, approached the door. "One moment! Send Leclair back to me. Inform Ferrara that he is to command the second gun-crew." "Yes, sir!" And the woman was gone. Leclair appeared, some moments later. He suspected nothing of the subterfuge whereby the Master had obtained a few minutes' conversation alone with "Captain Alden." "You sent for me, sir?" asked the Frenchman. "I did. I have some questions to ask you. Others can handle the guns, but you have special knowledge of great importance to me. And first, as an expert ace, what are our chances of making that shore, sir, now probably five miles off? In a crisis, I always want to ask an expert's opinion." Leclair peered from under knit brows at the altimeter needle and the inclinometer. He leaned from the pilot-house window and looked down at the waves, now hardly a hundred feet below, their foaming hiss quite audible. From those waves, red light reflected as the sun sank, illuminated the Frenchman's lean, brown features and flung up wavering patches of illumination against the pilot-house ceiling of burnished metal, through the tilted windows that sheerly overhung the water. "_Eh bien_--" murmured Leclair, noncommittally. "Well, can we make it, sir?" The ace inspected the vacuum-gauges, the helicopter tachometers, and shrugged his shoulders. "'_Fais tout, toi-même, et Dieu t'aidera_,'" he quoted the cynical old French proverb. "If nothing gives way, there is a chance." "If we settle into the sea, do you think that with our damaged floats we can drive ashore without breaking up?" "I do not, my Captain. There is a heavy sea running, and the surf is bad on the beach. This Rio de Oro coast is cruel. Have you our exact position?"