Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-06-19
SUNDAY MAGAZINE FOR JUNE -. 1910

whirled in his saddle as though fearful that
the trickery of their sad exit had been faith
omed. For one agonized instant he was ap-
prehensive that the Sultan's army was boil
ing around them in living, insurgent stream.
"S-S-S-S-t!"
He was recalled to himself by the Kaid,
who was still riding calmly and holding firm
gauntleted fingers on his bride reins. He
too resumed his straight seat in the saddle;
but not before he had discerned that those
following were the remnant of that fateful
squadron, the Kaid's bodyguard headed by
a man who grinned from SCARED lips. Sidi
Suleyman was at his heels.
The man with the big slken umbrella
lowered it and swung out to the roadside.
The scarf bearer carefully folded his long
white sllken shred and dropped behind to a
led horse. The four Moors drew closer to
the Sultan'S mount, and the road lay open.
The very outskirts of the camp had been
passed, and all danger from that source was
over.
THEY travelled sedately to bend in the
road, swung round it in a wide curve,
and were concealed from the camp by low
lying hills. The Kaid leaned over to him
and spoke:-
There is not a man here who doesn't
know what we are doing. 1t was horrible
alternative, but the only thing to do. Horse
in the tent. Rigor mortis. Broken spears
lashed to the saddle to hold him in position
Feet securely tied underneath. Hands tied
to pommel."
He halted the cavalcade and gave sharp
orders in Arabic. The four Moors fell aside,
and, motioning to Dick, he rode abreast the
horse carrying the gruesome emblem of
authority. Dick closed up on the opposite
side of the white steed and saw that the Kaid
had caught the long unmanaged reins from
beneath the 1istless hands.
Come on" the kaid said, keep close
beside him. From this on we must hurry as
best we can"
They spurred their horses on in grim ST.
lence. Now and then one of the officers would
gallop solicitously abreast and relieve one or
other of the foreigners from their hard task.
They paused only once, and then when the
sun dropped from sight; but the prayers
were brief.
With almost reckless abandon they
plunged over the starlit road, and through
out the entire journey met no one. Dogs
barked when they skirted some half deserted
village, and once two riderless borses, sad
died and bridled, dashed madly away from
them. Lights glittered like low lying and
faint stars on the far edge of the world, be-
gan " ldhC SlCduy SiidpCS, dlll IIicy kIlcW
that after the long hours of travel they were
approaching Fee, within whose walls would
come the close of this tragic drama. White
and ghostlike the minarets became outlined,
thrusting themselves upward into the warm
and passionless night. The great walls of
the capital with their watchtowers doomed
before them. The market men, the farmers,
and the produce vendors, who in times of
peace camped without that they might
more early invade the marketplace, were not
there War, with its dread of robbery and
death, had laid a chill hand on the activities
of the land. A brooding horror of what
might come, and terrible suspense, had
changed the habits of the countryside
There was no bark of dog, or low of disturbed
kline, waiting fearfully for the morrow, to
challenge them as they advanced to the gray
old gates above which menacing, waiting
soldiers clustered ready for the challenge.
Directly beneath the entrance to the
frowning arch they came to a halt. In the
foreground the white horse, lathering and
weary, lifted his head to look at the lights.
The Grand Vizir seeming under the dim
starlight infinitely more old and bent rode
forward and in thin tremulous voice hailed
the Waterman. In this time of fear his tone
of authority was gone and he had become