The Flying Legion Part 15

"I'm--all right, sir," weakly coughed the wounded New Zealander. He tried to bring a hand to his forehead, but could hardly lift it from the sheet. The doctor, with compressed lips, slightly shook a negativing head, as the Master raised interrogative brows.

"Serious," Lombardo whispered. "Shot through the right lung. Bullet still there. Severe internal hemorrhage. I may be able to operate, with Daimamoto a.s.sisting, but only in case the patient rallies. We really need a nurse, on this expedition. Medically speaking, we're short-handed. However, I'll do my best, sir."

"I know you will," answered the Master. He stood a moment gazing down at the New Zealander, with stern face and tight mouth. This man on the cot had already given much for the expedition, and might give all. Not without blood and suffering--death, perhaps--was the Master's dream to come to its fruition. After a moment, the Master turned away. He faced Captain Alden.

"Your wound not yet dressed?" demanded he.

"No, sir, not yet."

"And why not, pray?"

"He's simply refused all attention, whatever!" put in the doctor.

"I have a reason, sir," Alden proffered.

"No reason can overrule my orders!" the Master exclaimed. "I commanded you to report to Dr. Lombardo for treatment."

"Nevertheless, sir, I refuse--"

"Insubordination will not be condoned, sir!"

"My reason is valid. When you have heard it, you will understand."

"State your reason, sir!"

"I decline--here."

For a long moment the eyes of the Master met those of Captain Alden, that strangely peered out at him through the eyeholes of the pink, celluloid mask. Bohannan and the doctor stood by, curiously observing this conflict of two wills. Silence came, save for the droning purr of the engines, the buffeting gusts of wind along the fuselage, the slight trembling of the gigantic fabric as it hurled itself eastward through the high air of night.

"This is inexcusable," said the Master, crisply. "I give you one last chance. Either permit treatment, or consider yourself under arrest."

"Before you proceed to such lengths," the captain replied, "I ask one favor of you."

"What favor?"

"Two minutes alone with you, sir."

"Come with me!"

The Master turned and left the sick-bay. Alden rose, weakly enough, and followed him. As the door opened and closed again, the engines hummed louder, then sank again to their dull murmur. Bohannan remained with the doctor.

"Well, faith, can you beat that?" exclaimed the major. "There's an Ethiopian in the woodpile, sure enough. Something strange, here, I'm thinking! Something d.a.m.ned strange here!"

"Is there anything here that _isn't_?" asked Lombardo, with an odd laugh, as he turned back to the cot where lay the dying New Zealander.

Alone in his cabin with Captain Alden, the Master faced the insubordinate member of his crew with an expression of hard implacability. The captain stood there determinedly confronting him.

His right hand held to the table for support. His left sleeve was sodden with blood; the left arm, thrust into the breast of his coat, was obviously numbed, paralyzed.

"Well, sir, what have you to say for yourself?" coldly demanded the Master.

"I repeat that I cannot--and will not--submit myself to any medical attention from any member of this expedition."

"This is dangerous ground you're treading!" the Master exclaimed. His voice had deepened, grown ominous. "You understood perfectly well the conditions of the undertaking--unquestioning obedience to my orders, with life-and-death powers in my hands, to punish insubordination."

"I understand all that, sir," answered the captain. "I understand it now. Nevertheless, I repeat my refusal to obey."

"By Allah! There must be some deep cause here!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Master, his eyes smoldering. "I intend to work my will, but I am a man of reason. You are ent.i.tled to a hearing state your objection, sir. Speak up!"

The captain's answer was to raise his right hand and to loosen the cords securing the celluloid mask. As the Master watched, steadying his nerves against the shock of what he felt must be a nameless horror underneath, Alden tore away the mask and threw it upon the table.

"Here is my reason, sir," said he very quietly, "for not permitting Lombardo, or any other man here, to dress my wound."

"Good G.o.d!" exclaimed the Master, shaken clean out of his aplomb. The shock he had expected had come to him, but in far other guise than he had counted on. With clenched fists and widening eyes he peered at Alden.

The face he now suddenly beheld, under the clear white light of the cabin, was not the hideous, mangled wreck of humanity--The Kaiser's Masterpiece--he had expected to see.

No--far, and very far from that!

It was the face of a woman. One of the most beautiful women his eyes ever had rested on.

CHAPTER XII

THE WOMAN OF ADVENTURE

A moment's utter silence followed. The woman, with another gesture, drew off the aviator's cap she had worn; she pulled away the tight-fitting toupee that had been drawn over her head and that had masked her hair under its masculine disguise. With deft fingers she shook out the ma.s.ses of that hair--fine, dark ma.s.ses that flowed down over her shoulders in streams of silken glory.

"Now you see me as I am!" said she, her voice low and just a little trembling, but wholly brave. "Now, perhaps, you understand!"

"I--but you--" stammered the Master, for the first time in all his life completely at a loss, dazed, staggered.

"Now you understand why I couldn't--wouldn't--let Dr. Lombardo dress my wound."

"By the power of Allah! What does all this mean?" The Master's voice had grown hoa.r.s.e, unsteady. "A woman--_here_--!"

"Yes, a woman! The woman your expedition needs and must have, if death and sickness happen, as happen they will The woman you would never have allowed to come--the woman who determined to come at all hazards, even death itself. The woman who--"

"But, Lord Almighty! Your papers! Your decorations!"

"Quite genuine," she answered, smiling at him with dark eyes, unafraid. Through all his dazed astonishment he saw the wonder of those eyes, the perfect oval of that face, the warm, rich tints of her skin even though overspread with the pallor of suffering.

"Madam," said he, trying to rally, "this is past all words No explanation can make amends for such deception. Still, the secret is yet yours--and mine. Until I decide what to do, it must be respected."

Past her he walked, to the door, and snapped the catch. She, turning, leaned against the table and smiled. He saw the gleam of perfect teeth. A strange figure she made, with loose hair cascading over her coat, with knickers and puttees, with wounded arm slung in the breast of her jacket.