which he could not touch, could not help, could not shield.
He looked down the slope to the sleeping bodies round the mosquito-smudge, and knew instantly which of them was Dick. He had lain round camp-fires with him too often not to know how Dick always slept on his side, with one knee bent and fingers curving for the revolver-butt; quick to spring up on the instant at any unusual sound. He was so quick always, this man whom Tempest had loved and trusted. So quick with his laugh and his love and his generous impulses. Tempest had loved Dick because he was Dick, never halting to consider that Dick might treat him as he had treated other men. And now Dick had done it; done it with the usual callous indifference which he showed at most crises of his life; done it with mocking eyes and a lie on his mouth.
In Tempest there was no such mad mixture of rogue and martyr and devil, of sin and renunciation and selfishness and reverence as tormented Dick. There was no little cynical imp of humour in his blood to teach him how to jest at his soul and at all other things which hurt him. Dick possessed that imp. Without it he could not have served the Law which he derided, or found such good joy in life still. Tempest had none of that spark to keep the fire of his days burning. He knew, as all the world's chosen men know (and there are many more of them than the world ever finds out) that, having endured the suffering, it was his plain duty as immortal man to find the remedy and to apply it until he could stand upon his feet again, sane and cured, and fit for the work which was to fit him for the future.
But he knew to-night, as he had known so many times through the last months, that as yet he could not do it. He had first to stamp out his hate of Dick, and all the outraged, betrayed friendship in him fought instinctively against that.
He went down to the fire again; took his blanket, and wrapped it round him. A breed was raised on his elbow, throwing more wood on the fire. The flickering light went playing hide-and-seek across the faces of the sleeping men, bringing the semblance of laughter to Dick's mouth. Tempest turned his back on him and lay down. But that mock-
