A period of such reflection could hardly pass without a speculative dive into the future.  If Iris and he were rescued, what would happen when they went forth once more into the busy world?  Not for one instant did he doubt her faith.  She was true as steel, knit to him now by bonds of triple brass.  But, what would Sir Arthur Deane think of his daughter’s marriage to a discredited and cashiered officer?  What was it that poor Mir Jan called himself?—­“a disgraced man.”  Yes, that was it.  Could that stain be removed?  Mir Jan was doing it.  Why not he?—­by other means, for his good name rested on the word of a perjured woman.  Wealth was potent, but not all-powerful.  He would ask Iris to wait until he came to her unsoiled by slander, purged of this odium cast upon him unmerited.

And all this goes to show that he, a man wise beyond his fellows, had not yet learned the unwisdom of striving to lift the veil of tomorrow, behind whose mystic curtain what is to be ever jostles out of place what is hoped for.

Iris, smiling in her dreams, was assailed by no torturing doubts.  Robert loved her—­that was enough.  Love suffices for a woman; a man asks for honor, reputation, an unblemished record.

To awake her he kissed her; he knew not, perchance it might be their last kiss on earth.  Not yet dawn, there was morning in the air, for the first faint shafts of light were not visible from their eyrie owing to its position.  But there was much to be done.  If the Dyaks carried out the plan described by Mir Jan, he had a good many preparations to make.

The canvas awning was rolled back and the stores built into a barricade intended to shelter Iris.

“What is that for?” she asked, when she discovered its nature.  He told her.  She definitely refused to avail herself of any such protection.

“Robert dear,” she said, “if the attack comes to our very door, so to speak, surely I must help you.  Even my slight aid may stem a rush in one place whilst you are busy in another.”

He explained to her that if hand-to-hand fighting were necessary he would depend more upon a crowbar than a rifle to sweep the ledge clear.  She might be in the way.

“Very well.  The moment you tell me to get behind that fence I will do so.  Even there I can use a revolver.”

That reminded him.  His own pistol was unloaded.  He possessed only five more cartridges of small caliber.  He placed them in the weapon and gave it to her.

“Now you have eleven men’s lives in your hands,” he said.  “Try not to miss if you must shoot.”

In the dim light he could not see the spasm of pain that clouded her face.  No Dyak would reach her whilst he lived.  If he fell, there was another use for one of those cartridges.

The sailor had cleared the main floor of the rock and was placing his four rifles and other implements within easy reach when a hiss came from beneath.