Mexico Missouri message. (Mexico, Audrain County, Mo.) 1899-1918, 1915-07-22

on those silent days, and his blue
eyes, where the very whites we're
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, a 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 sculpture.
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 a little fgurehead 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 Fatou
Ami, kind of fetish-the caravan
adored him. Now from his position at
Sabron's feet, he crawled up and
licked his masters hand.
"Charles!" fremont cried, and lift
ed the soldiers hand.
Sabron opened his eyes. He was
sane. The glimmer of smile touched
his lips. He said Tremont's name,
recognized him. Are we homer" he
asked weakly. as it France?"
fremont turned and dashed away a
tear.
He drew the curtains of the litter
and now walked beside it, his legs
feeling like cotton and his heart beat
ing.
AS they came up toward the en-
campment, two people rode out to
meet them, two women in white riding
habits, on stations, and as the evening
breeze iuttered the wells from their
helmets, they seemed to be flags Of
welcome.
Under his helmet fremont was red
and burned. He had a short, rough
growth of beard.
Therese de la Maine and Julia Red
mond rode up. fremont recognized
them, and came forward, half stagger-
| ing. He looked at Julia and smiled,
and pointed with his left hand toward
the litter; but he went directly up to
Madame de la Maine, who sat immov-
able on her little stallion. fremont
seemed to gather her in his arms. He
lifted her down to him.
Julia Redmond's eyes were on the
litter, whose curtains were stirring in
the breeze. Hammet Abou, with a
profound salaam, came forward to her,
"Mademoiselle," he said, respect
fully, "he lives. have kept my word. .
Pitchoune sprang from the litter and
ran over the sands to Julia Redmond
She dismounted from her horse alone
and called him: "Pitchoune! Pit
choune!" Kneeling down on the des
ert, she stopped to caress him, anG
he crouched at her feet. licking hel
hands,
CHAPTER XIV.
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