“How shall I know?” she sobbed in anguish.

“What have they been telling you?”

The quiet voice came in strange contrast to the agitated uncertainty of her tones.  Carlyon laid steady hands on her shoulders.  In the dim light his eyes had leapt to blue flame, sudden, intense.  She hid her face from their searching; ashamed, horrified at her own doubts—­yet still doubting.

“Your friendship has stood a heavier strain than this,” Carlyon said, with grave reproach.

But she could not answer him.  She dared scarcely face her own thoughts privately, much less utter them to him.

What if he were urging the tribes to rise to give the Government a pretext for war?  She had heard him say that peace had come too soon, that war alone could remedy the evil of constantly recurring outrages along that troublous Frontier.

What if he counted the lives of a few women and their gallant protectors as but a little price to pay for the accomplishment of this end?

What if he purposed to make this awful sacrifice in the interests of the Empire, and only asked this thing of her because no other would undertake it?

She lifted her face.  He was still looking at her with those strange, burning eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul.

“Averil,” he said, “you may do a great thing for the Empire to-night—­if you will.”

The Empire!  Ah, what fearful things would he not do behind that mask!  Yet she stood silent, bound by the spell of his presence.

Carlyon went on.  “There is going to be a rising, but we shall hold our own, I hope without loss.  You can ride a horse, and I can trust you.  This message must be delivered to-night.  There is not an officer at liberty.  I would not send one if there were.  Every man will be wanted.  Averil, will you go for me?”

He was holding her very gently between his hands.  He seemed to be pleading with her.  Her resolution began to waver.  They had shattered her idol, yet she clung fast to the crumbling shrine.

“You will not let them be killed?” she whispered piteously.  “Oh, promise me!”

“No one belonging to this camp will be killed if I can help it,” he said.  “You will tell them at Fort Akbar that we are prepared here.  General Harford is marching to join them from Fort Wara.  Whatever they may hear they must not dream of moving to join us till he reaches them.  They are not strong enough.  They would be cut to pieces.  That is the message you are going to take for me.  Their garrison is too small to be split up, and Fort Akbar must be protected at all costs.  It is a more important post than this even.”

“But there are women here,” Averil whispered.

“They are under my protection,” said Carlyon quietly.  “I want you to start at once—­before we shut the gates.”

“Have they taken you by surprise, then?” she asked, with a sharp, involuntary shiver.