The Mena weekly star., 1916-04-27

"' J"" NdH It, He saiu quletly. "Om of them lies here. He was a young Englishman, and I had taken fancy 10 him-heaven knows why, for our i races do not love each other nowadays There was forced march-a freak ot our good coloners-and he collapsed out in the desert. We left him there without food or ammunition. You un derstand-I was his friend Three days later l got permission to look for his bones. 1 found them and few rags of his uniform. There are hyenas on the desert. you know, and they make short work of things. V all, l brought what was left-here' Richard Nameless took a step nearer as though to look closer into the Ger. mans scared features.
 "Who are you" he asked signih. cantly.
 My name Is Goetz von Berllchen. gen. was the mock pompous answer If you knew anything about Goethe which, being an Englishnan, you don't you would know that Goetz von Der. lichingen was a robber knight I led men. It was my birthright Then one day I killed-justly, as l believe, but neither according to the law of my country nor my caste. And then l lost my irthright--forever." Richard Nameless drew step nearer The fine features turned to the fading light in stern, impIacable f-judgment, had awakened awe and pity and vague, shapeless recollection.
 He passed on. Instinctively Richard Nameless drew himself up to salute. It was answered with grave courtesy. For a moment the mantle of ruin had slipped from their shoulders, and man faced man in honorable recognition of what had been. Then the slight. sol dierly figure lost itself among the shadowy crosses.
 Richard Nameless turned back to the desert The Arabs had risen and an elder was praying aloud, his aged, tremulous voice leading the richer uni son of the worshipers behind him.
 With my face to Mecca and with a sincere heart I offer my prayers to Allah"
 Mirage. For those dark-faced desert children Mecca opened the gates of Paradise, for this dream of unknown happiness they waited and prayed, and when their time came passed through the great shadow with fearless. trium- phant confidence.
 He went back to his work. With fierce, logged energy he pulled away the deep-rooted weeds and brought pathetic look of care and order into his corner of the wilderness. For a mo- ment he fingered over the grave which Goetz had tended. The bald yet elo- auent inscription touched him. He wondered vaguely who Philip Grey had been; If he, too, had paid price and in the last hours of horror had still been satisfied
 Two women had entered the ceme- tery. Their white-clad figures fiashe6 gayly in between the dark graves, ans clear. silvery laugh mingled with tlr nnal AraD prayer
 La Ilaha fila 'llahuW
 The younger woman stopped an in- stant and pointed with the tip of her parasol at the broken remnant of cross.
 "Lsok at these beadsl Aren't they ridiculous? And the lnscription-just a number. like a convicts." She glanced back over her shoulder at her companion. Miss Smith, believe you are frightened. Do you think there are ghosts he.e? Well, perhaps there are, Su' I don't mind"
 As yet the man standing immobile. hidden amid the forest of crosses, had escaped her notice. But he had heard her now, and, shadowy and ghostlike enough in the dying light, awaited her approach. At the foot of the English. mans grave she hesitated. The inscrip- Hon attracted her. With puckereo brows she spelled out the badly cut letters. her soft voice touched wis just the faintest ironical interest
 'FAilip Grey-No. S112-Foreign la Tion.r
 Then she looked up involuntarily ans saw the man who watched her, hii hand gripping the head of the cross.
 It was very quiet now. The Arat nrayer was silenced, and the white figures of the worshipers had vanished in the long olive grove leading baci to Sidi-bel-Abbe Sylvia Arnaud'i voice. when she spoke at last, sounded ,trained and harsh in the absoluts nuier