The Flying Legion | Page 8

full, briefly stated his service and
mentioned his wound.

All spoke English, though some rather mangled it. At any rate, this was to be the official
language of the expedition, and no other was to be allowed. The ability to understand and
obey orders given in English had, of course, to be one essential requisite for this
adventurous band of Legionaries.
When all the credentials had been proved satisfactory, the Master rapped for order.
Silence fell. The men settled down to listen, in tense expectancy. Some took chairs,
others occupied the divan, still others--for whom there were no seats--stood along the
walls.
Informal though the meeting still was, an air of military restraint and discipline already
half possessed it. The bright air seemed to quiver with the eagerness of these
fighting-men once more to thrust out into the currents of activity, to feel the tightening of
authority, the lure and tang of the unknown.
Facing them from the end of the table, the Master stood and spoke to them, with
Bohannan seated at his right. His face reflected quite another humor from that of the
night, a week before, when first this inspiration had come upon him.
He seemed refreshed, buoyant, rejuvenated. His eyes showed fire. His brows, that had
frowned, now had smoothed themselves. His lips smiled, though gravely. His color had
deepened. His whole personality, that had been sad and tired, now had become inspired
with a profound and soul-felt happiness.
"Gentlemen all, soldiers and good men," said he, slowly. "In a general way you know the
purpose of this meeting. I am not given to oratory. I do not intend making any speech to
you.
"We are all ex-fighters. Life, once filled with daring and adventure, has become stale, flat,
and unprofitable. The dull routine of business and of social life is Dead Sea fruit to our
lips--dust and ashes. It cannot hold or entertain us.
"By this I do not mean that war is good, or peace bad. For the vast majority of men, peace
is normal and right. But there must be always a small minority that cannot tolerate ennui;
that must seek risks and daring exploits; that would rather lay down their lives, today, in
some man-sized exploit, than live twenty-five years longer in the dull security of a
humdrum rut.
"Such men have always existed and probably always will. We are all, I believe, of that
type. Therefore you will all understand me. I will understand you. And each of you will
understand the rest.
"Major Bohannan and I have chosen you and have invited you here because we believe
every man in this room is precisely the kind of man I have been defining. We believe you
are like ourselves, dying of boredom, eager for adventure; and willing to undergo military
discipline, swear secrecy, pledge honor and risk life itself, provided the adventure be
daring enough, the reward promising enough. If there is anyone here present who is
unwilling to subscribe to what I have said, so far, let him withdraw."

No one stirred. But a murmur arose, eager, delighted:
"Go on! Go on--tell us more!"
"Absolute obedience to me is to be the first rule," continued the Master. "The second is to
be sobriety. There shall be no drinking, carousing, or gambling. This is not to be a vulgar,
swashbuckling, privateering revel, but--"
A slight disturbance at the door interrupted him. He frowned, and rapped on the table, for
silence. The disturbance, however, continued. Someone was trying to enter there against
Rrisa's protests.
"I did not bring you up, sir," the Arab was saying, in broken English. "You cannot come
in! How did you get here?"
"I'm not in the habit of giving explanations to subordinates, or of bandying words with
them," replied the man, in a clear, rather high-pitched but very determined voice. The
company, gazing at him, saw a slight, well-knit figure of middle height or a little less, in
aviator's togs. "I'm here to see your master, my good fellow, not you!"
The man at the head of the table raised a finger to his lips, in signal of silence from them
all, and beckoned the Arab.
"Let him come in!" he ordered, in Rrisa's vernacular.
"A, M'almé" submitted the desert man, standing aside and bowing as the stranger entered.
The Master added, in English:
"If he comes as a friend and helper, uninvited though he be, we welcome him. If as an
enemy, traitor, or spy, we can deal justice to him in short order. Sir, advance!"
The stranger came to the foot of the table. Men made way for him. He stood there a
moment in silence, dropped his gauntlets on the table and seemed peering at the Master.
Then all at once he drew himself up, sharply,