Though a hundred eyes were fixed on the two--though some of those eyes watched them with a keenness inspired by the belief that this reunion had in it a romantic element quite apart from the drama of the hour--their meeting apparently partook only of that friendly character warranted by the unusual circumstances. And, in the general excitement, none who looked at Royson paid heed to the hardships he had undergone. He had hardly closed his eyes during two nights and three days, for the rest obtained while he and Abdur Kad'r awaited the outcome of Hussain's embassy was calculated rather to add to his physical exhaustion than relieve it. He had covered eighty miles of desert on scanty fare, and had fought a short but terrific fight against a dozen adversaries. Yet, his cool demeanor and unwearied carriage conveyer! no hint of fatigue--to all outward seeming he might have been entering the encampment after an ordinary march, when a basin of water and a change of clothing were the chief essentials of existence. It was not so, of course. Were he made of steel he must have felt the strain of those sixty hours, and he almost yielded to it when he dismounted, and Fenshawe led him inside the mess tent. The older man invited him to be seated, and tell his adventures while eating the meal which had been prepared for him and Stump as soon as their camels were seen in the distance. But Dick, half unconsciously, still clutched the broken rifle. There were blood stains on his clothing, which was ripped in the most obvious way by bullets that had either wounded him or actually grazed his skin. Fenshawe's keen old eyes made a rapid inventory of these signs of strife, and he forgot, in his anxiety, that Irene was present. "Good heavens, man," he cried, "you have been in the wars. Did those scoundrels attack you, then? Are you hurt?" "No," said Dick, sinking into a chair, and trying to speak with his customary nonchalance, "I am not injured--just a wee bit tired--that is all." Irene flew to his side. She took the soiled gun-barrels, from his relaxing grip, and began to unfasten the collar hooks of his uniform. "Don't you see he is almost fainting?" she demanded, reproachfully. "Bring some brandy and cold water, quick! Oh, Dick, dear, speak to me! Are you sure you are not wounded? If it is only want of food and sleep, we can soon put that right, but do tell me if you have a wound." Dick smiled, though he knew his face was white beneath the dust and tan, and he could not lift his arms for the life of him. "I'm all right," he whispered. "I suppose I'm suffering from heart trouble, Irene. Haven't seen you for two nights and a day, you know."