The Red Cloud chief., 1915-08-05
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MARIT VAN VORSr%fMtAU
ILLUSTRATIONS SLRY WALTERS
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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, a human shade and
shield. and when the storm ceased he
fell like one dead, and the Arabs
pulled of 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 vas 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 s%epulture.
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 a 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 a as he had been to Fatou
Ami, a 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 a 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 1t, his legs
feeling like cotton and his heart beat,
ing.
AS they came up toward the en-
campment, two people rode out tc
meet them, two women in white riding
habits, on stations. and as the evening
breeze fluttered the wells from Their
helmets, they seemed to be flags Of
welcome.
Under his helmet fremont was rec
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 towart
, the litter: but he went directly up 4
Madame de la Maine. who sat immov
, able on her little stallion. Tremon
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 Il
the breeze. Hammet Abou, with
profound salaam, came forward to hei
"Mademoiselle," he said, respec,
fully, "he lives. | have kept my word
Pitchoune sprang from the litter an
= ran owe the sands to Julia REDMOND
!, She dismounted from her horse alon
y and called him; "Pitchoune! ri
choune!" Kneeling down on the de,
ert. she stopped to caress him, an
. he crouched at her feet. licking he
II hands.