Baraboo weekly news. [volume] (Baraboo, Wis.) 1912-197?, 1912-10-17
Copyright 1911 by Bobbs-Merrill Company
CHAPTER Kill.
Not a Cheerful OutIook.


George, his brain in tumuIt, fierce
tigerish courage giving fictitious
strength to his body, staggered toward
her. 1t was mad dream, a mirage
OF his own disordered thoughts. For
tune there? It was not believable.
What place had she in this tangled
web? He ran his fingers into his hair,
gripped, and pulled. If it was dream
the pain did not waken him; Fortune
sat there still. Through what ter
rors might she not have passed the
preceding night? Alone in the desert,
without any Of those conveniences
which are to women as necessary as
the air they breathe! He tried to run,
but his feet sank too deeply in the
pale sand; he could only plod. He
must touch her Or hear her voice !;
otherwise he stood upon the brink of
madness. There was no doubt in his
mind now; he loved her, loved her as
deeply and passionately as any sto-
ried knight loved his lady; loved her
without thought of reward, unselfish-
ly, with great and tender pity, for I'M
consciously he saw that she, like he,
desert, but along the highways where
men set up their dwellings.
Mahomed, having an eye upon all
things, though apparently seeing only
that which was under his immediate
concern, saw the young mans inten.
ton, and more, read the secret in his
face. He was infnftely amused.
There were two of them, SO it seemed.
Quietly he slipped in between George
and the girl, and his movement freed
Georges mind of it's bewilderment
Unhesftatingly, he flung himself upon
the Arab striving to reach the lean,
brown throat. Mahomed, strong and
unwearied, having no hand in the &C,
tual warfare, thrust George back so
vigorously that the young man lost
his balance and fell prone upon the
sand. He was so weak that the fall
stunned him. Mahomed stepped for
ward, doubtless with the generous i'm.
pulse to prove that in the matter of
kicks he desired to show no partial
1ty, when hand caught at his bur.
mouse. He paused and looked down.
It was the girl.
that"
Mahomed, moved by some feeling
that eluded immediate analysis,
turned about 1t was time to be of,
If he wished to reach Serapeum the
following night. Pursuit he knew to
be out of the question. since who
was there to know that there was any
thing to pursue? But many miles in
tervened between here and his desti-
nation. He dared NOT enter Serapeum
in the daytime. Lying upon the canal
bank as it did, the possibility Of en-
counterinig a stray white man con-
fronted him. Every camel-way ire
quented by Europeans must of ne
cessity be avoided, every town of any
size skirted, and all the while he must
keep parallel with known paths or be-
come lost himself. Not to become
lost himself, that was his real con
Germ. The caravan was provisioned
for months, and he knew Asia-Minor
as well as the lines upon his palms.
There were sand-storms, too; but
against these blighting visitations he
would match his vigilant eye and the
instinct of the camels. The one way
In which these peculiar storms might
distress him lay in the total oblitera-
ton Of the way-signs, certain rocks,
certain hills, without the guidance of
which, like good ship bereft of it's
compass, he might fall away from his
course, Notwithstanding that he would
always travel toward the sun.
And there was also the vital ques-
ton Of water; he must measure the
time between each well, each oasis.
So, then, aside from these dangers
with which he felt able to cope, there
was one unforeseen: the chance meet
ing with a wandering caravan headed
by white men in search of rugs and
carpets. These fools were eternally
hunting about the wastes OF the
world; they were never satisfied un-
less they were prowling into countries
where they had no business to be, We're
always breaking the laws Of the ca
upns and the Koran.
The girl was beautiful in her pale,
foreign way; beautiful as the star of
the morning, as the first rose Of the
Persian spring; and he sighed for
the old days that were no more. She
would have brought a sultan's ransom
in the markets. But the accursed
Feringhi were everywhere, and these
eickly If handsome white women were
more to them than their hearts blood:
why, he had never ceased to wonder.
But upon this knowledge he had
mapped out his plan of torture in re-
gard to Ryanne. The idea Of selling
Fortune had dimly formed In his