"Well," Tommy looked back toward the fort, "the pressure's high enough for one day. She needs another rescuing. You go and speed up the grub." So, whistling the Charpentier love song, he left me. CHAPTER XXIV GERMAN CRUELTY At the kitchen fire Echochee was busily preparing food for a company now swelled to ten, and Smilax had dropped in rank to an assistant. I saw from her activity that this was not a fortunate moment to interrupt, yet there are some few things in life more important than a well-turned meal, and I therefore advanced, wishing to speak in the presence of our two sailors who hovered near with lips that all but drewled in anticipation of the feast. "I want to remind each of you," I said, "not to tell the princess that any one was killed. Let it go that a few were scratched, and the rest got away. You get the idea? I don't want her shocked." My men understood at once, but Echochee, never taking her eyes from the sizzling skillets, asked: "What you mean--'shocked'?" "I mean horrified, terrified--sorry," I answered, rather put to it how else to explain. "Ugh! She already sorry; cry some, say ve'y bad. Me say ve'y good. She all right now. You through?" And, since I was through, she gave another grunt, leaving me with the suspicion that she thought I was a very small boy. When finally the others came in sight Doloria walked at the side of Tommy, while Monsieur followed in some discomfiture of mind. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were thoughtful. From this, and the grin on Tommy's face, I judged that all was not going well for him and, in a more happy frame of mind, I went out to meet them. "Mr. Davis has been telling me a strange story," she smiled at me. "He's full of strange stories," I warned her. "Don't take him seriously--ever!" "But I know he was serious this time--weren't you?" The corners of her mouth were tell-tales of merriment as she turned to him. "Shall we let Jack in on it?" he asked, the grin on his face widening. "Do you think we'd better?" She was laughing outright now, with an alluring spirit of confidence; so I knew that she approved my estimate of Tommy and had taken him into her heart as for many years he had lived in mine. But women always loved Tommy--perhaps because he loved them. If some far-reaching providence had not endowed him with a well-developed sense of honor to go hand in hand with his attractiveness, more girls would have looked after him through tears than toward him with gladness. Whatever his loves and secret affairs, he always played above the board and never cheated; so they could trust him if he won, and pet him if he lost. Taken altogether, he was rather a lucky beggar, who learned early in life that the golden key which unlocks a woman's heart is Secrecy--and this they seemed to know by some divine, or devilish, insight. Before he now had a chance to answer her question, Monsieur caught up with us.