Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1912-12-26

Yes. You have always struck me
as a man who was hunting trouble for
one end"
And that?" Ryanne seemed inter
ested.
Wallace drew his finger across his
throat. Ryanne looked him squarely
in the eye and nodded afirmatively.
II don't understand at ALL"
"You never will, Wallace, old chap.
| am the prodigal son whose brothAr
ate the fatted calf before l returned
home. l had a letter today. She
will be here tomorrow sometime. You
may have to go to Port Said, II my
plan doesn't nature"
"The Ludwig?"
YES"
Say, what q Frau she would have
made the right mani"
Ryanne did not answer, but glow
cred at his glass.
"The United Romance and Adven-
ture Company" Wallace twirled his
glass. IF you're a wonder, she's a
marvel. A Napoleon in petticoats! 1t
does make a fellow grin, when you
look 1t all over. But this is going to
be her Austerlitz or her Waterloo.
And you really got the rug; and on top
of that, you have sold 1t to George T.
A. Jones! Here's"
MANY happy returns" ironically.
They finished the bottle without
further talk. There was no convivial-
ity here. Both were fond of good wine,
but the more they drank, the tighter
grew their lips. Men who have been
in the habit Of guarding dangerous
secrets become taciturn In their cups.
From time to time, flittingly, there
appeared against one Of the windows,
just above the half-curtain, a lean,
dark face, which, in profile, resembled
the kite--the hooked beak, the watch
full, preyful eyes There were two
hungers written upon that Arab face,
food and revenge.
allah is good" he murmured.
He had but one eye in use, the 9th
er was bandaged. In fact, the face ex-
hibited general indications of rough
warfare, the skin broken on the bridge
Of the nose, a freshly healed cut I'M
der the seeing eye, a long strip OF
plaster extending from the a to the
mouth. There was nothing of the beg
gar in his mien. His lean throat was
erect, his chin p~rotrusive, the set Of
his shoulders proud and defiant. Ordi-
narily, the few lingering guides would
rudely have told him to be off about
his business; but they were familiar
with all turbans, and in the peculiar
twist of this one, soiled and ragged
though it was, they recognized some
prince from the eastern deserts. Pres
emily he strobe away, but with a stiff
ness which they knew came from long
journeys upon r~acing-camels.
George dreamed that night Of magic
carpets, of sad-eyed maidens, Of fierce
Bedouins, of battles in the desert, of
genii swelling terrif1cally out Of squat
bottles. And once he rose and turned
on the lights to assur himself that
the old Yhiordes was not a part OF
these vivid dreams.
He was up shortly after dawn, In
white riding-togs, for a final canter to
Mena House and return. In two days
more he would be leaving Egypt be
hind. Rather glad in n sense, rath
er sorry in another. Where to put the
rug was a problem. He might carry
1t in his steamer-roll; 1t would be
handler there than in the bottom Of
his trunk, stored away in the ships
! hold. Besides, his experience hat
taught him that steamer-rolls were
only indifferently inspected. You will
observe that the luster Of his higl
/ ideals was already dimming. He rea
soned that iAasmuch rs he was bount
+, to smuggle and lie, it might be well tt
plan something art~istically. He wished
now that he was going to spend Christ
mas in Cairo; but it was too 1ate t.
change his booking without seriou
loss Of time and money.
He had a light breakfast on tn.
! veranda Of the Mena House, climbe'
] up to the desert, bantered the donkey
boys, amused himself by watching tn
descent of some German tourists VIII
had climbed the big Pyramid befor
dawn to witness the sun rise, an
" threw pennies to the horde Of bin
o beggars who instantly swarmed abou
Q him and demanded, in the name of A
lah, a competence for the rest of thei
/" days. He finally escaped them b
g footing 1t down the incline to the hi
tel gardens, where his horse stoo
waiting.
1t was long after nine when he sill
from the saddle at the side entranc
If of the Semiramis. He was on his wa
to the bureau for his key, when a
axquisitely gloved hand lightly touche
his arm.
Don't you remember me, M
Jones?" said a voice Of vocal honey.
George did. In his confusion
dropped his pith-helmet, and In stoo
O. ting to pick it up, bumped into the 20
,e ter who had rushed to his aid. R
i member herl Would he ever forg,
is her? He never thought Of her wit
out clubbing himself an outrageous as
, LIE straiRhtsned. his cheeks afr'