The Carlisle independent., 1915-10-21
CHAPTER XxlV-Continued.

At night as he lay in his bed in his tent, Fremont and Hammet Abou cooled his temples with water from the earthen bottles, where the sweet ooze stood out humid and refreshing on the damp clay. They gave him acid and cooling drinks, and now and then Sabron would smile on Fremont, call ing him petit frere," and Fremont heard the words with moisture in his eyes, remembering what he had said to the Marquise d'Esclignac about be- ing Sabron's brother Once or twice the soldier murmured woman's name, but Fremont could not catch it, and once he said to the duke:
 Sing Sing!"
 The Frenchman obeyed docilely, humming in an agreeable barytone the snatches of song he could remember, La File de Madame Angot," Fl Tro- vatore;" running them into more mod ern opera, La Veuve Joyeuse." But the lines creased in Sabron's forehead Indicated that the singer had not yet found the music which haunted the memory of the sick man.
 Sing!" he would repeat, fixing his hollow eyes on his companion. and Fremont compiled faithfully Finally, his own thoughts going back to early days, he hummed tunes that he and a certain little girl had sung at their games in the allees of an old chateau in the valley of the Indre.
 Iac
 Ding-din-don,"
 and other children's melodies.
 In those nights, on that desolate way, alone, in a travelling tent, at the side of man he scarcely knew, Rob- ert de Fremont learned serious les sons. He had been a soldier himself. but his life had been an inconseuuent one. He had lived as he liked, behind htA always the bitterness of an early deception. But he had been too young 10 break his heart at seventeen. He had hyed through much since the day his father sxiled him to Africa.
 Therese had become a dream, a memory around which he did not al- ways let his thougsts finger. When he had seen her again after her hus- bands death and found her free. he was already absorbed in the worldly life of an ambitious young man. He had not known how much he loved her until in the Villa des Bougainvilleas he had seen and entrusted her with Julia Redmond.
 All the charm for him of the past returned, and he realized that, as money goes he was poor-she was poorer.
 The difficulties of the marriage made him all the more secure in his deter imitation that nothing should separate him again from this woman.
 By Sabrons bed he hummed his little insignificant tunes, and his heart longed for the woman. When once or twice on the return journey they had been threatened by the engulfing sand storm he had prayed not to die before he could again clasp her in his arms.
 Sweet, tantalizing, exquisite with the passion of young love, there came to him the memories of the moonlight nights on the terrace of the old cha teau. He saw her in the pretty girl ish dresses of long ago, the melan. choly droop of her quivering mouth. her bare young arms, and smelled the fragrance of her hair as he kissed her. So humming his soothing melo- dies to the sick man, with his voice softened by his memories, he soothed Sabron.
 Sabron closed his eyes, the creases in his forehead disappeared as though brushed away by tender hand Per haps the sleep was due to the fact that. unconsciously, Fremont slipped into humming tune which Miss Red mond had sung in the Villa des Bou- gainvilleas, and of whose English words De Fremont was quite ignorant. Will he last until Algiers, Hammet Abou?" What will be will be. monsieur!" Abou replied. .He must" De Fremont answered. Aercely He shall" He became serious and meditxtivs