Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-01-16
CHAPTER XIII.
Not a Cheerful Outlook.

MOI q cheerful UNLOCK.
George, his brain in tumuit, fierce
| tigerish courage giving fictitious strength
to his body, staggered toward her. 1t
was a mad dream, a mirage of his own
disordered thoughts. Fortune there? 1t
was not believable. What place had she
in this tangled web? He ran his fingers
into his hair, gripped and pulled. If 1t
was dream the pain did not Waken him.
Fortune sat there still. Through what
terrors 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 into 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 stored knight loved his lady; loved
her without thought of reward, unseiflsh-
ly, with great and tender pity, for UNI
consciously he saw that she, like he, was
all alone, not only here in the desert. but
along the highways where men set up
their dwellings.
Mahomed. having an eye upon all things.
though apparently seeing only that when
the young mans intention. and more. read
the secret in his face. He was Infinitely
amused. There were two of them, so 1t
seemed. Quietly he stepped in between
George and the girl. and his movement
freed Georges mind of it's bewilderment
Unhesitatingly, he flung himself upon the
Arab, striving to reach the lean, brown
throat. Mahomed, strong and unWear1ed,
having no hand in the actual warfare,
thrust George back so vigorously that the
his ha and fell nrOno
upon the sand. He was so weak that
the fall stunned him. Mahomed stepped
forward, doubtless with the generous inn
pulse to prove that in the matter of kicks
he desired to show no Partially, when
hand caught at his burnouse. He paused
and looked down. 1t was the girl.
Don't! A brave man would not do
that
Mahomed, moved by some feeling that
eluded immediate analysis, turned about.
1t was time to be off 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
anything to pursue? But many miles In
tervened between here and his destination.
He dared not enter Serapeum in the day.
time. Lying upon the canal bank as 1t
did, the possibility Of encountering stray
white man confronted him. Every camel
way frequented by Europeans must of
necessity be avoided. every town of any
size skirted, and all the while he must
keep parallel with known paths or become
lost himself. Not to become lost himself.
that was his real concern. The caravan
was provisoned 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 rigilant eye and the in
stinct of his cames. The one way in
which these peculiar storms might dis
tress him lay in the total obliteration of
the way signs. certain rocks, certain hills,
without the guidance of which. like
good ship bereft of its compass, he might
fall away from his course, nOthwithStand-
ing that he would always travel toward
the sun.
And there was also the vital question of
water: he must never forget that; 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
meeting with wandering caravan headed
by white. men in search Of rugs and car
pets. These fools were eternally hunting
about the wastes of the world; they were
never satisfied unless they were prowling
into countries where they had no bust
ness to be, were always breaking the laws
Of the caliphS and the Koran.
The girl was beautiful in her pale, for
eign way: beautiful as the star Of the
morning. as the first rose of the Persian
spring; and he sighed for the old days
that We're no more. She would have
Drought d SulldI TdHSOfH III the markets..
But the accused Feringhi were every
where, and these sickly 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 For
tune had dimly formed in his mind while
his blood had burned in anger; but to-
days soberness showed him the futility
OF such procedure. He would have to
olrr I, rf 1t.,1, rx~.. 49,
girl would eventually prove an incum-
brance. AT any rate, he would wiring one
white mans heart till it beat dry in his
breast. That her health might be ruined;
that she might sicken and die, in no man.
ner aroused his pity. This attribute was
destined never to be awakened in Ma
homed's heart.
The kisweh. the kisweh, always the holy
Yhiordes; that he must have, even If he
had to forego the pleasure of breaking
Ryanne. He was too old to start life
anew; at least, too Old to stir ambition.
He had welded authority too many years
to surrender it lightly; he had known too
long his golden-fiaked tobacco. his sher-
bet. his sirupy coffee. the pleasant loating
in the bazaars with his merchant friends.
TO return to the palace, to confess to the
paSha that his carelessneSs had lost him
the rug, would result either in death or
Punishment; and SO far as he was con-
cerned he had no choice, the one was as
bad as the other. SO, If the young fool
who had bought the rug Of Ryanne told
the truth when he declared that it had
been stolen again, then Ryanne knew
where 1t was; and he could be made to
tell; he, Mahomed, would attend to that
And when Ryanne confessed, the girl and
the other would be conveyed to the near
est telegraph post. That they might at
once report the abduction to the English
authorities did not worry Mahomed. Not
the fieetest racing camel could find him,
and behind the walls of the palace of
Bagdad only Allah could touch him. He
had figured it all out closely; and he was
an admirable strategist in his way Re-
venge upon Ryanne for the dishonor and
humiliation and the return of the rug;
there was nothing more beyond that.
Before George had the opportunity Of
speaking to Fortune he was raised from
tie sand and bodily lifted upon his camel
and by way of passing pleasantly. his
hat was damned down over his eyes. He
swore as he pulled up the hrim. Swearing
was another accomplishment added to the
list of transformations. He had deal to
learn yet, but in his present mood he was
likely to proceed famously. He readjust-
ed the hat In time to see Ryanne uncere-
mouiously dumped into one of the yawn-
ing pack baskets, his arms and legs hang
ing out, his head lolling against his Shout
der, exactly like a marionette cast aside
~ hair y110v nf nrAfr