"Well, I can't force myself upon you," Dominey said a little wistfully.
"It seems strange, though, to meet right out here, far away even from
the by-ways of life, just to shake hands and pass on. I am sick to death
of niggers and animals."

"It is Fate," Von Ragastein decided. "Where I go, I must go alone.
Farewell, dear friend! We will drink the toast we drank our last night
in your rooms at Magdalen. That Sanscrit man translated it for us: 'May
each find what he seeks!' We must follow our star."

Dominey laughed a little bitterly. He pointed to a light glowing
fitfully in the bush.

"My will-o'-the-wisp," he muttered recklessly, "leading where I shall
follow--into the swamps!"

A few minutes later Dominey threw himself upon his couch, curiously and
unaccountably drowsy. Von Ragastein, who had come in to wish him good
night, stood looking down at him for several moments with significant
intentness. Then, satisfied that his guest really slept, he turned and
passed through the hanging curtain of dried grasses into the next banda,
where the doctor, still fully dressed, was awaiting him. They spoke
together in German and with lowered voices. Von Ragastein had lost
something of his imperturbability.

"Everything progresses according to my orders?" he demanded.

"Everything, Excellency! The boys are being loaded, and a runner has
gone on to Wadihuan for ponies to be prepared."