moderate pace, tossing his head and catching at his bit. She took no
heed of the time beyond the fact that it was passing quickly, and that
if anything was to be done it must be done as soon as possible. But
Gaston, riding a few paces behind her, was very much alive to the hour
and had looked several times at his watch. He ranged alongside of her
now with a murmured apology. "Pardon, Madame. It grows late," and
submitted his wrist watch for her inspection.

Diana glanced mechanically at her own wrist and then remembered that
she had broken her watch the day before. She pulled up, and tilting her
helmet back mopped her hot forehead, and, as she did so, a sharp breeze
sprang up, the curious wind that comes and goes so rapidly in the
desert. An idea flashed into her mind. It was a poor chance, but it
might succeed. She shot a glance at Gaston. He was looking in the
opposite direction, and, raising her hand, she fluttered her
handkerchief a moment in the breeze and then let it go. The wind
carried it some distance away. She gave a little cry and caught at the
bridle of the valet's horse.

"Oh, Gaston, my handkerchief!" and pointed to where the morsel of
cambric lay white against a rock. With a comical exclamation of dismay
he slipped to the ground and started to run across the sand.

She waited until he had got well on his way, sitting tense with shining
eyes and thumping heart, then, snatching off her helmet, she brought it
down with a resounding smack on the hindquarters of the servant's
horse, stampeding it in the direction of the camp, and, wheeling Silver
Star, headed for the north, deaf to Gaston's cries.

Wild with excitement and free to go his own pace at last her mount