Evening star., 1923-01-02
-.
A Son of the Sahara
A Modern Story Of the Desert
'Iaa.saa BY Louise Gerard ssuars.susru..aa
tCopyriEht. ls22, hy the Maeaulay cs


thought to the problem. Raoul LsS
Breton was with her. that was
enough.
A wan smile of recognition trem-
bled for q moment on her lips.
"Raoul," she said family.
1t was more sigh than a word
But his name whispered SO feebly
brought him kneeling beside her
couch. bending over her eagerly.
my darling. forgive me-" he whis-
He bent his head still lower. with
infinite tenderness kissing the white
family.
Pansy's eyes closed again. y look
the suffering on her face.
Outside the hyenas still laughed
mockingly; derisive echoes from a
distance. But lie Breton did not hear
them. Despite his treatment of her.
Pansy had smiled upon him. For the
first time in his wild life he felt hu-
mility and gratitude. both new SEN
sations.
when Edouard came again he pro-
nounced the girl sleeping, not uncon-
with care and attention she'll pull
through" he said.
Thank God" his patron exclaimed,
with unfeigned relief and JOY.
Edouard glanced at his master spec
ulatively.
He had heard nothing about pan
sy's existence until he had been hur-
riedly summoned to attend her. and
he wondered why his friend and pa
tron had made no mention of the girl.
You never teld me Barclay had a
daughter" he commented.
81 did not know myself until quite
recently" the sultan replied.
'1s she to share her fathers fa.e?"
the doctor asked drily.
Tenderly the sultan gazcd at the
small white face on the cushions.
She's not my enemy" he said IN a
caressing tone.
With feeling of RELIEF; Edouard
left the tent.
1t was most evident that the sultan
had fallen in love with his beautiful
captive. II the girl played her cards
Wen. she would be able te save her
rather, and prevent his patron doing
out death to a British official, thus
embroiling himself still further with
the English government.
After the doctor had left, Le Bre-
ton sat on Pansy's couch. Yet he had
not learned his lesson.
Although he loved the daughter, he
hated the father as intensely az ever
Now he was making other plans:
plans that would enable him to keep
both love and vengeance. Plans, too
that might make the girl forget his
color and give him the love he now
craVed for SO wildly.
CHAPTER VII.
In one of the tents in the glade Sir
George Barclay sat, an Arab guard
on either side OF him. There was an
almost stupefed air about him; IF a
man whose world has suddenly got
beyond his control.
The previous afternoon, without
any warning, his party had been set
upon and captured; but by whom. and
why, he did not know. There was no
rebellious chief in the district: no
discomfort. Yet he was o prisoner in
the hands of some wild tribe; cap
tured so suddenly that not one Of his
men had escaped to take word 70 The
next British outpost and bring up
force to his assistance.
There was but one streak of conso-
lation in his broodings-the krowl-
edge that his daughter had not fallen.
alive into the hands Of the barbaric
soldiery.
Some little time after he had been
brought a prisoner to the Bl8de he
had seen Cameron come IN, white and
shaking with fever.
. On seeing his chief, the Young man
had shouted across the space:
Thank God! the niggers haven't
got Pansy alive"
They were given no time for fur
rler conversation, for one was hus-
tied this way and one that.
AS Barclay sat brooding on the fac.
that had overtaken his party and try
ing to find reason for 1t, some one
entered the tent.
In the newcomer he recognized tho.
ard captured him and his party.
so. George Barclay. we meet for a
second time" a deep voice said saw
agely in French.
barclay scanned the big man in the
white barnoose who stood looking ut
him with hatred in his dark, fiery
eyes.
To his knowledge he had never
where did we first meet" he asked
quietly.
"sixteen years ago, when you nur-
dered my father, the Sultan Cssim
Ammeh."
Sir George started violently and
scanned the man anew. He had
g. reason now for the untoward hap
penings.
DO you remember all I promised
for you and yours that day you re-
fused to listen to my pieadinssT the
savage voice asked.
Barclay remembered only too we'll
And as he looked at the ruthless
face before him he was more than
ever thankful for the one thing.
Thank God, my daughter is dead"'
he said.
The sultan smiled, coldly, cruelty.
Your daughter Is not dead" he re-
piled, "She is alive: Just alive. And
you may rest asseured that she'll
| have every care and attention"
The news left Barclay staring in n
stricken manner at his captor.
MY doctor assures me that she
will live" the sultan went on. And
you will live, too, to see her sold as
slave in the public Warket of my
city"
placed him beyond speech. At that
moment he could only pray that she
might die. II.
CHAPTER VIII.
Three days elapsed before Pansy
returned to full consciousness, and
even then the world was very hazy
| place. One morning she woke up.
almost too weak to move, with a
feeling that she must have had a
bad attack of fever. She tried to sit
UP, but Alice, her mulatto maid, bent
over Owe her quickly, pressing her back
gently on the pillows.
"No, Missy Pansy." that familiar.
| grooming voice said with an air of
| authority. DE doctor say you stay
/ dere and no move
| Pansy was not at all anxious to
move after that one attempt. The
| EFFORT had brought knife-like pains
/ cutting through her chest. and she
had to bite her lips to keep herself
| from crying out in agony. ~.
All day she lay In silence, sleeping
most Of the; time when awake. thank
! full Just to lie still, for even to talk
| hurt her; grateful when Alice fed
| her, because she would rather have
gone hungry than have faced the
| main that sitting up entafled ,