The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1912-12-14

weak az thatf Look at me. l am six
foot two. normally hundred and
eighty pounds. no fat. I am as sound
as cocoanut. There isn't boxer In
the States I'm afraid of. can ride.
shoot, fence. fight; there isn't q game
I can't take a oreditable hand in. So
much for that. There's the other side.
Morally, I'm putty. When It's soft you
can mold 1t any which way; when its
hard, it crumbles. VIII you trust .
man like that2"
Eyes. Out there you'n b away
from temptation"
Perhaps. Well. accept. And II
one day I'm missing. think kindly of
the poor devil of an outcast who want
ed to be good and couldn't be. I'm
tagged I'm going to turn in. Good
night"
He picked UP his blanket and saddle
bags and made his bed dozen yards
away.
! George set his gaze at the fire. now
falling in places and showing incan-
descent holes. A month ago, in tho
rut of commonplace, moving round in
oiled grooves Of mediocrity. Bang!
like rocket. Why. never had those
liars in the smoke-rooms recounted
anything half 80 wild and strange as
this adventure. Smugglers, card
sharps. an ancient rug, a caravan in
the desert! He turned his head and
looked long and earnestly at the little
tent. Love. too; love that had put
into his diffident heart the thrill and
courage Of a Bayard. Love! He saw
her again as she stepped down from
the carriage: in the dining-room at his
side. leaning over the parapet; inef-
fably sweet, hauntingly sad. Would
she accept the refuge he had offered?
He knew that old Mortimer would
take her without question. Would she
accept the shelter of that kindly roof?
She must! II she refused and went
her own way into the world, he would
lose her for ever. She must accept!
He would plead with all the eloquence
OF his soul. for his own happiness, and
mayhap hers. He rose, faced the
tent. and, with a gesture not unlike
that Of the pagan in prayer. registered
a VOW that never should she want for
protection, never should she want for
tho comforts Of life. How he was
going to keep such a vow was q Ques-
ton that did not enter his head. Some
how he was going to accomplish the
feat.
What mattered the ragged beard
upon his face, the ragged clothes upon
his body. the tattered cloths upon his
feet. the grotesque attitude and en-
semble7 The Lord of Life saw into
his heart and understood. And who
might say with what Joy Pandora
gazed upon her work. knowing az she
did what still remained within her
casket7
From these heights, good occasional.
~ for any mans soul, George came
down abruptly and humanity to the
iprosaic question Of where would he
make his bed that night To lie down
at the north side Of the ire meant a
chill in the morning: the south side.
the intermittent. acrid breath Of tho
fire itself; 20 he threw down his blan-
'ket and bags east Of the hre, wrapped
himself up. and sank into slumber,
light but dreamless.
What was that? He nat up. alert,
.straining his ears. How long had he
been asleep7 An hour by his watch.
What had awakened him! Not
sound anywhere, yet something had
startled him out Of his sleep. He
glanced over the camp. That bundle
was Ryanne. He waited. Not move
ment there. No sign Of life among the
,camel-boys: and the flaps Of the two
tents were closed. Bah! Nerves,
probably; and he would have lain
down again had his gaze not roved out
toward the desert. Something moved
out there. upon the misty. moonlit
space. He shaded his eyes from the
IRE. now but heap of glowing en-
bers. He got up. and SILVER after
SILVER wrinkled his spine. Oh. no:
1t could not be a dream; he was
awake. 1t was living thing. that
long, bobbing camel-train. coming d.
rectly toward the oasis. no doubt at
tracted by the freight. Fascinated.
incapable Of movement, he watched
the approach. Three white dots; and
these grew and grew and at length be.
came pith-helmets! Pith.
helmets! Who but white men wore
pith.helmets in the desert? White
~@As-nAssaReA AaE~1 NAsRRaH