Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-08-02
XVI.
XVI.
The Voice of the Desert,

After rapid journey Of three days, in
which he Travelled day and night, he
reached the next oasis. He was pleased
to find that 1t was large and watered by
no less than three springs. He had been
without water for twenty-four hours and
drank greedily Of the first bubbling
stream. He was becoming a fatalist and
he looked upon the finding Of this refuge
as sign of his fitness to live. II he had
missed it there was no doubt that he
would have died of thirst. AS 1t was. his
life had been spared. and he did not doubt
that it had been spared for some specific
purpose.
The oasis was nearly forty acres In ex-
tent. and the palm trees round it's edge
were so thickly massed together as to
form an almost impenetrable wall of tim
Der. The underground was rich and
luxuriant. 1t was a place that man
might we'll linger in.
Here he would rest and wait for the
approach of a caravan. He was still
within hundred and fifty miles of the
great route. but he argued that an oasis
of such size and importance must be well
known to all travellers in the desert.
He was we'll satisfied with his quarters,
and in few days time he recovered in
some degree from the overwhelming fear
which had seized his mind. The healthy
life of the past year had fortified his
mind. But he resolved to remain in his
inland refuge and await the arrival Of
his fellow men.
A month passed and no one came to
the oasis. But at the end Of the month
an event happened which cut of Sir
Richard Gaunt from either advance or re-
treat. and left him as helplessly stranded
as a sailor cast on an island without q
boat or the means of making one.
The camel, which had been ailing for
some DAYS, and which had at times even
refused food, lay down on it's side and
close its eyes and died. Sir Richard
Gaunt. who had looked on the animal as
part Of the desert and likely to live for
centuries. was quite overcome by this
final blow to all his hopes. It was true
that he did not intend to proceed on his
journey till he could find some compan-
ions. but he had always looked on the
camel as essential to his progress. With
out it he would be mere incumbrance
to any caravan.
Sir Richard spent whole day in cover.
ing the body with sand. and by sunset he
had raised a noble tumulus half as high
as a tall palm. On the top Of this he
placed a wreath of palm leaves, and re-
garded his work with the satisfaction Of
a man who has done his best.
Then he sat down on mound OF sand
and looked out across the desert at the
setting sun. He was sad and his sad
ness was not at all due to the fact that
he was hopelessly cut off from further
advance He felt that he had lost q
friend a dumb, unsympathetic friend. 1t
is true, but one who had always done its
duty. and he was cut off from all life
save that Of the vegetable world Not
bird or animal would come to cheer him
by its movements. He was In a green
prison of foliage, and he could not leave
1T, except for grave OF sand.
Month followed month, and still no
caravan came to the oasis, and Sir Rich
ard Gaunt began to give up all hope OF
ever leaving his place of refuge. At first
he cursed his own folly and the coward
ice which had prevented him from press
ing on to some point which lay on the
great route.
But by degrees he became resigned to
his fate. The solitude and the silence,
which at first were insuferable, became
SO much a part of his daily life that they
ceased to be noticeable.
Day after day he reviewed his past and
wondered what the future held in store
for him. At first his thoughts were q
mere chaos, out of which he could evolve
nothing except a vague sense OF shame
and a fear of punishment
The thought of his oath to Crawshay
did not trouble him. A more healthy
state of mind regarded the fulfillment OF
II as wicked and absurd. But he was
haunted by the memory of the few words
he had uttered in his agony OF thirst and
hunger on the raft.
''Give me the future and / will serve ,
Thee till the end OF my days"
This voice alone rose above the tumult |
of his varied memories-a sharp. clear |
note that seemed to echo and re-echo In i
his brain.
CTo be continued next Sunday)