Clearwater Republican. [volume] (Orofino, Idaho) 1912-1922, 1915-10-08

eyes, where the very whites were
burned, began to wear the far-away.
mysterious look of the traveller across
long distances. During the last sand
storm he stood. with the camels, round
Sabron's litter, human shade and
shield, and when the storm ceased he
fell like one dead, and the Arabs
pulled off his boots and put him to bed
like a child.
One shutdown, as they travelled into
the afterglow with the East behind
them, when fremont thought he
could not endure another day of the
voyage, when the pallor and waxiness
of Sabron's face were like death itself,
Hammet Abou, who rode ahead. cried
out and pulled up his camel short
He waved him arm.
"A caravan, monsieur"
In the distance they saw the tents.
like lotus leaves, scattered on the pink
sands, and the dark shadows of the
Arabs and the couchant beasts, and
the glow of the encampment fire.
"An encampment, monsieur"
fremont sighed He drew the cur
tain of the litter and looked in upon
Sabron, who was sleeping. His set
features, the growth of his uncut
beard, the long fringe of his eyes, his
dark hair upon his forehead, his wan
transparency-with the peace upon his
face, he might have been a figure OF
Christ waiting for sepulture.
fremont cried to him: "Sabron,
mon vieux Charles, reveille-toi! We
are in sight Of human beings!"
But Sabron gave no sign that he
heard or cared.
Throughout the journey across the
desert, Pitchoune had ridden at his
will and according to his taste, some
times journeying for the entire day
perched upon Tremont's camel. He
sat like little figurehead or mas
cot, with ears pointed northward and
his keen nose shifting the desert air
Sometimes he would take the same
position on one of the mules that car
ried Sabron's litter, at his masters
feet. There he would lie hour after
hour, with his soft eyes fixed with
understanding sympathy upon Sab
ron's face
He was, as he had been to Fatol
Ami, a kind of fetish-the caravan
adored him. Now from his position a
Sabron's feet, he crawled up ant
licked his masters hand.
"Charles!" fremont cried. and lift
ed the soldiers hand.
Sabron opened his eyes. He wa
sane. The glimmer Of smile touches
his lips. He said Tremont's name
recognized him. Are we homer" h
asked weakly. lis 1t France?"
fremont turned and dashed away
tear.
He drew the curtains of the lite
and now walked beside 1t, his leg
feeling like cotton and his heart beat
ing.
As they came up toward the On
campment, two people rode out t
meet them, two women in white ridin
habits, on stations, and as the evenin
breeze fluttered the wells from thei
helmets, they seemed to be nags G
welcome.
Under his helmet fremont was re
and burned. He had short. roug
growth of beard.
Therese de la Maine and Julia Ret
mond rode up. fremont recognize
them, and came forward. half Stage
ing. He looked at Julia and smile,
!, and pointed with his left hand towar
the litter; but he went directly up
Madame de la Maine. who sat immo'
able on her little stallion. TremoI
seemed to gather her in his arms. H
lifted her down to him.
Julia Redmond's eyes were on tn
litter, whose curtains were stirring
the breeze Hammet Abou, with
profound salaam, came forward to he
"Mademoiselle," he said. respec
fully, che lives. have kept my word
Pitchoune sprang from the litter ar
ran over the sands to Julia Redmon
, ] She dismounted from her horse alor
, and called him: "Pitchoune! Pi
: choune!" Kneeling down on the de
ert, she stopped to caress him. al
' he crouched at her feet. licking h'
hands.