The Caldwell watchman. (Columbia, La.) 1885-1946, 1913-01-17


as 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 affirmatively.
i don't understand at ALL"
iou never will, Wallace, old chap.
l am the prodigal son whose brother
ate the fatted calf before l returned
nome. | had letter today. She
Will be here tomorrow sometime. You
may have to go to Port Said, if my
plan doesn't mature"
The Ludwig"
"Yes."
Say, what a Frau she would have
made the right man."
fyanne 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
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 P.
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, q 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
Or was bandaged. In fact, the face ex'
ktAited general indications Of rough
warfare, the skin broken on the bridge
Of the nose, q freshly healed cut un'
der the seeing eye, long strip OF
plaster extending from the ear to the
mouth. There was nothing Of the beg
gar in his mien. His lean throat was
erect, his chin protrusive, 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 1t 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 racing-camels.
George dreamed that night Of magic
carpets, of sad-eyed maidens, Of fierce
Bedouins, of battles in the desert, of
GENT swelling terrifcally out Of squat
bottles. And once he rose and turned
on the lights to assure himself that
the old Yhiordes was not 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 one sense, rath.
er sorry in another. Where to put the
rug was problem. He might carry
it 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 had
taught him that steamer-rolls were
only indifferently inspected. You will
observe that the luster Of his high
ideals was already dimming. He rea.
soned that inasmuch as he was bound
to smuggle and lie, it might be we'll to
plan something artistically. He wished
now that he was going to spend Christ.
mas in Cairo; but it was too late to
change his booking without serious
loss of time and money.
He had a light breakfast on the
veranda of the Mena House, climbed
up to the desert, bantered the donkey
boys, amused himself by watching the
descent of some German tourists who
had climbed the big Pyramid before
dawn to witness the sun rise, and
threw pennies to the horde Of blind
beggars who instantly swarmed about
him and demanded, in the name Of AL
lah, competence for the rest Of their
days. He finally escaped them by
footing 1t down the incline to the no
tel gardens, where his horse stood
waiting.
It was long after nine when he slid
from the saddle at the side entrance
of the Semiramis. He was on his way
to the bureau for his key, when ar
exquisitely gloved hand lightly touched
his arm.
Don't you remember me, Mr.
JONES'" said voice Of vocal honey.
George did. In his confusion he
dropped his pith-helmet, and in stoop
ing to pick 1t up, bumped into the por
ter who had rushed to- his aid. Re
member her! Would he ever forget
her? He never thought Of her with
out clubbing himself an outrageous ass