k in the fire
with a loud laugh.

"Ha! Ha! That's good, all right!"

He staggered toward Eg-Anteouen, pointing to the fire.

"It's hemp. Hasheesh, hasheesh. Oh, that's a good one, all right."

"Yes, it's a good one," I repeated, bursting into laughter.

Eg-Anteouen quietly smiled approval. The dying fire lit his
inscrutable face and flickered in his terrible dark eyes.

A moment passed. Suddenly Morhange seized the Targa's arm.

"I want to smoke, too," he said. "Give me a pipe." The specter gave
him one.

"What! A European pipe?"

"A European pipe," I repeated, feeling gayer and gayer.

"With an initial, 'M.' As if made on purpose. M.... Captain Morhange."

"Masson," corrected Eg-Anteouen quietly.

"Captain Masson," I repeated in concert with Morhange.

We laughed again.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Captain Masson.... Colonel Flatters.... The well of
Garama. They killed him to take his pipe ... that pipe. It was
Cegheir-ben-Cheikh who killed Captain Masson."

"It was Cegheir-ben-Cheikh," repeated the Targa with imperturbable
calm.

"Captain Masson and Colonel Flatters had left the convoy to look for
the well," said Morhange, laughing.

"It was then that the Tuareg attacked them," I finished, laughing as
hard as I could.

"A Targa of Ahagga seized the bridle of Captain Masson's horse," said
Morhange.

"Cegheir-ben-Cheikh had hold of Colonel Flatters' bridle," put in
Eg-Anteouen.

"The Colonel puts his foot in the stirrup and receives a cut from
Cegheir-ben-Cheikh's saber," I said.

"Captain Masson draws his revolver and fires on Cegheir-ben-Cheikh,
shooting off three fingers of his left hand," said Morhange.

"But," finished Eg-Anteouen imperturbably, "but Cegheir-ben-Cheikh,
with one blow of his saber, splits Captain Masson's skull."..

He gave a silent, satisfied laugh as he spoke. The dying flame lit up
his face. We saw the gleaming black stem of his pipe. He held it in
his left hand. One finger, no, two fingers only on that hand. Hello! I
had not noticed that before.

Morhange also noticed it, for he finished with a loud laugh.

"Then, after splitting his skull, you robbed him. You took his pipe
from him. Bravo, Cegheir-ben-Cheikh!"

Cegheir-ben-Cheikh does not reply, but I can see how satisfied with
himself he is. He keeps on smoking. I can hardly see his features now.
The firelight pales, dies. I have never laughed so much as this
evening. I am sure Morhange never has, either. Perhaps he will fo