The Mena weekly star., 1913-06-12

fort to speak, but this time no sound issued from his lips. At the end of the hour he opened his eyes and smiled. It was more like the grin George had once seen upon the face of a boxer who had returned to the contest after having been floored half a dozen times.
 Gan you hear me-" asked George
 Ryanne stared into his face. "Yes," thickly. Where are wei"
 'In the desert."
 (Which one?"
 Arabian"
 Ryanne tried to sit up alone.
 Better not try to move. They banged you up at great rate. Best thing you can do Is to go to sleep. You'll be all right in the morning"
 Ryanne sank back, and George bun. dled him up snugly. Poor devil!
 He'll pull himself together in the morning." he said to Fortune 1 dio not know that you knew him well
 q have known him for eight CT nme years He used to visit my upc,o at our villa at Mentone." She smiled You look very odd"
 "No odder than I feel" with inef- fectual attempt to bring together the ends of his collar band. q must be a sight. I was in too much of a hurry to get there. Did you eat the soup and fish?"
 "The soup, yes; but I'm afraid that 1t will be some time before I can find the dried fish palatable. I hope my courage will not fail me-" she added, the first sign of anxiety she had shown. She was very lonely, very tired, very sad.
 It is quite possible that Mahomed, coming over, spoiled a pretty scene; for George had some very brave words upon the tip of his tongue
 Come" said Mahomed to Fortune. You will sleep in the little tent. No one will disturb you"
 Good night, Mir. Jones Don't wor. ry; 1 am not afraid"
 George was alone. He produced one of his precious cigars and lighted it Then he drew over his feet one of the empty saddle-bags, wrapped his blanket round him, and sat smoking and thinking till the heat of the fire replenished from time to time, filled him with a comfortable drowsiness; and the cigar, still smoking, dropped from his nerveless fingers, as he lay back upon the hard clay and slept. Romance is the greatest thing in the world; but for all that, man must eat and a man must sleep.
 The cold dew of dawn was the tonic that recalled him from the land of grotesque dreams. He sat up and rubbed his face briskly with his hands, drying it upon the sleeve of his coat, as nasty and as satisfying a toilet as he had ever made. There was no ac- tivity in camp; evidently they were not going to start early. The cook alone was busy. The fire was crack ling, the kettle was steaming, and pot of pleasant-smelling coffee leaned rakishly against the hot ashes. The flap to Fortunes tent was still closed And there was Ryanne, sitting with his knees drawn up under his chin, his hands clasped about his shins, and glowering at no visible thing.
 "Hello!" cried George Found yourself, eh?"
 Ryanne eyed him without emotion.
 ''When and how did they get you?" George inquired.
 About three hours before they got you. Something in a glass of wine. Dope. I'd have cleaned them up but for that"
 How do you feel?"
 Damned bad, Percival."
 Any bones broken?"
 NO; I'm just knocked about; sore spot in my side; kicked, maybe. But 1t isn't that"
 George didn't ask what that" was. Where do you think he's taking us?"
 "Bagdad, if we don't die upon the way"
 q don't think he'll kill us, It wouldn't be worth his while"
 You did not give him the rug"
 "Not T."
 ''It comes hard, Jones, I know, but your giving 1t up will save us both many bad days. He asked you for 1t?
 "He did"
 ~Then why the devil didn't you give it to him? Whats thousand pounds against this muddle?"