no sign; and we kept quiet because we did not want to start a
free-for-all fight. Will was quite able to take care of any single
opponent, and would have resented aid.

Suddenly, however, Gregor Jhaere reached inside his shirt. Maga
screamed. Rustum Khan beside me swore a rumbling Rajput oath, and
we all four leapt to our feet. Maga drew no weapon, although she
certainly had both dagger and pistol handy. Instead, she glanced
toward Kagig, who, strangely enough, was lolling on his blankets
as if nothing in the world could interest him less. The glance took
as swift effect as an electric spark that fires a mine. He stiffened
instantly.

"Yok!" he shouted, and at once there ceased to be even a symptom
of impending trouble. Yok means merely no in Turkish, but it conveyed
enough to Gregor to send him back to his place between his women
and the Turk unashamedly obedient, leaving Maga standing beside Will.
Maga did not glance again at Kagig, for I watched intently. There
was simply no understanding the relationship, although Fred affected
his usual all-comprehensive wisdom.

"Another claimant to the title!" he said. "A fight between Will
and Kagig for that woman ought to be amusing, if only Will weren't
a friend of mine. Watch America challenge him!"

But Will did nothing of the kind. He smiled at Maga, offered her
a cigarette, which she refused, and returned to his place beyond
Fred, leaving her standing there, as lovely in the glowing firelight
as the spirit of bygone romance. At that Kagig shouted suddenly
for fuel, and three of the Turk's seven hoydens ran to heap it on.