An Eg $m
(Continued from last week).
SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER IL—Winton Garrett, twen=-
gy-five and just out of college, calls by
appointment on Archie Garrett, his New
York cousin and executor, to receive
8 inheritance of $100,000. Archie,
onest, an easy mark and a fool for
uck, assures Winton that he is prac-
tically a millionaire, as he has invested
all but $10,000 in a rubber plantation
in either the East or West Indies and
4n a controlling interest in the Big
Malopo diamond mine, somewhere or
other in South Africa, sold him as a
special favor by a Dutch promoter
mamed De Witt.
CHAPTER IIL—Winton, en route to
fis mine, finds the town
wildly excited over a big
Two coach passengers are
@ disreputable old prospector, Daddy
Beaton, and his daughter Sheila. On
the journey a passenger, who turns out
to be De Witt himself, insults Sheila.
Winton fights De Witt and knocks him
out. Sheila tells him to turn back. She
says that her father is a broken Eng-
1ish army officer, who has killed a man
and is therefore in De Witt’'s power,
that De Witt is all-powerful, being
backed by Judge Davis, president of
the diamond syndicate and also the
resident magistrate and judge of the
mative protectorate.
CHAPTER IIIL.—Winton finds Malopo
fn a turmoil, both over the strike and
the theft of the De Witt diamond. Win-
ton foolishly discloses his identity to
Sam Simpson, a Jamaican negro, sub-
editor of the local newspaper. He more
wisely confides in Ned Burns, watch-
man at the Big Malopo, who tells him
that the syndicate has planned to take
eontrol of the mine the next morning.
CHAPTER IV.—Winton finds that
Sheila is cashier at the restaurant. He
ffers his friendship. She rebuffs him.
an Vorst, a notorious diamond thief,
one of De Witt's men, slips the stolen
De Witt diamond into Winton's pocket
and two policemen club Winton and
arrest him. He escapes them and
when at his last gasp Sheila takes him
fnto her house, bathes his wounds and
saves him from his pursuers.
CHAPTER V.—The next morning
Sheila offers Winton help in escaping
from Malopo. He convinces her with
difficulty that he did not steal the De
Witt diamond and that he is president
of the Big Malopo company. Bruised
and blood-stained he runs across town,
breaks by force into the company meet-
ing, and aided by a popular demonstra-
tion proves his identity, blocks the re-
organization and takes control. He
asks Sheila to marry him. She laughs
hysterically and refuses him.
CHAPTER VI.—Winton hires Seaton
as compound manager and develops Big
Malopo. Judge Davis, a philosophical
old hypocrite of unknown past, offers
him the syndicate’s co-operation. “Oth-
erwise, he says, ‘“we’ll smash you, you
d—d young fool.”
CHAPTER VIL—Winton, infuriated
by a scurrilous newspaper article about
Sheila and himself, knocks Sam down
and publicly threatens Judge Davis. He
finds Sheila about to elope with De Witt,
to save her father. He horsewhips De
Witt. Sheila again refuses to marry
him and says she is going away, never
to see him or her father again.
diamond.”
. Nobody was stirring in the com-
pound, nobody was anywhere in sight.
Forgetting Sam, who had not yet
made his appearance, Winton ran
through the compound, clambered over
the gate, and made his way toward
Seaton’s cottage, to call him to go to
Burns. But when he drew near it he
saw with dismay that the door was
wide open, and the interior a litter of
rubbish. He ran on, passed the thres-
hold, and entered the bedroom. It was
empty, the bed had not been occupied,
and the old man had evidently de-
parted.
For the first time the idea of treach-
ery occurred to Winton.
He staggered out of the cottage. A
blind rage took possession of him. He
glared about him, and saw Sam in the
distance, within the compound of the
next claim, looking about him. He saw
him point.
Following the direction indicated,
Winton perceived a little native boy
holding a horse behind Kash's store.
At the same moment he saw a man
slinking toward it against the edge of
the compound. And he ran at full
speed along the road to head him off,
As he ran he saw that Sam, too, was
in pursuit of him. It seemed unlike-
ly that the negro would be able to catch
him, however, and Winton himself was
fifty paces away.
The boy, apparently terrified at the
turn of events, let the horse go and
ran. The animal reared, bat the run-
of Taungs !
strike at |
Malopo, including the 95-carat “De Witt
VICTOR
ROUSSEATL
COPYRIGHT 2¥ W.G.CHAPMAN
ner reached it and seized it by the
bridle. The momentary delay enabled
Sam to cover the ground between them.
He leaped at him as he was climbing
quickly into the saddle. Winton rec-
ognized the man now as Van Vorst, the
diamond thief.
Van Vorst lost his balance, but man-
aged to pull a revolver from an open
holster and fired at Sam pointblank.
By a miracle of good luck Sam dodged
the shot, and a moment later was rac-
ing at the top of his speed toward the
. shelter of Kash’s store.
Van Vorst saw Winton and, standing
beside his horse, aimed deliberately
and fired. The bullet whipped Win-
ton’s cheek. Next moment Winton was
grappling with the thief. Van Vorst
raised the revolver and brought it,
butt downward, smashing across Win-
ton’s head.
Winton dropped, but staggered to his
feet in time to see Van Vorst leap into
the saddle and ride away like the wind
toward the desert. Then Sam’s shout
was heard. The negro appeared again,
leading a horse by the halter, the sad-
dle and bridle across his arm,
He had remembered that Kash kept
a horse in his stable, a racer which he
had acquired cheap as the result of a
bet, and owing to an injury to the ani-
mal’'s fetlock. 1. was one of the best
horses in Malopo, and the sight of it
between the shafts of Kash’s cart had
created a good deal of feeling against
the Armenian.
Sam began to slip on the bridle
hastily, while Winton, snatching the
saddle from him, adjusted it and began
to pull in the girth.
“I'll catch him!” said Sam.
Winton would at any other time have
been astonished at the transformation
in the man. The negro who had run
veiling from the Chronicle office on the
day before now seemed devoid of fear.
“You get help for Ned Burns,” said
Winton, and mounted.
The horse needed no urging. It nad
been kept for days together in Kash's
stable, its only exercise the pulling of
the storekeeper’s cart on the slow
rounds of Malopo. The sense of a
rider brought back the memories of
the old days. It dashed off in pursuit
of Van Vorst as if Winton’s mind com-
municated to its own the urgency of
capture.
Winton stuck to his seat doggedly
and tried to keep his senses, fi‘he
blow had reopened his old wound, and
the blood was pouring into his eyes in
a blinding torrent. But he concentrated
all his will upon the chase. Unless he
could regain the diamond the syndicate
would oust him from his control of the
Big Malopo, and make him the jest of
the community which he had come to
hate.
And somehow he felt that he was, in
an unknown way, fighting for Sheila as
well as for his own.
Van Vorst came into sight, a littie
speck far out upon the plains. He
had left the road and was striking
across the desert in the direction of the
native territories, ten miles away.
Malopo was a protectorate, the crim-
inal law of the colony ran there. In
the tribal lands, however, Van Vorst
could laugh at pursuit until he found
his opportunity to slip across the bor-
der into the Transvaal or Damaraland.
Winton knew this. The horse, sight-
ing the fugitive, threw all its efforts
into the chase and began to gain swift-
ly. It was an eery ride across the
sand under the moonlight. Winton,
sick from the chloroform and the blow,
knew that he could not last long, but
how he was going to return he did not
stop to think. He felt in one of the
holsters and found a revolver there.
And, holding the weapon In his hand,
he waited grimly while his horse over-
hauled the other.
They had raced past an outlying
farm, which showed in the distance, the
poplars standing up like ghostly senti-
nels across the flat. Now nothing was
visible anywhere except the desert.
Malopo was far behind. Winton gained
steadily. He could distinguish that
action slowed his horse for a few mo-
ments. Winton gained more and more.
Now only two hundred yards separated
the fugitive and the pursuer.
When they were a hundred paces
apart Van Vorst swung round in the
saddle and fired. The bullet flew into
the sand twelve paces away. Now only
fifty paces separated them. Van Vorst
pulled in suddenly and fired once more.
He had only two more shots, and there
would be no time to reload. Winton
calculated that; but the ball whistled
uncomfortably close, and this time he
answered twice, without effect.
Van Vorst sat on his beast like a
statue, aiming carefully at Winton’'s
body. Winton spurred his horse, mean-
ing to ride him down. At the same
time he half swung himself out of the
saddle, crouching against the animal's
neck, so as to avoid presenting a mark.
Van Vorst fired his fifth shot. It
would have killed Winton; it struck
|
the saddle fairly and lodged under the
tough pigskin. Winton was now al-
most upon him, his own revolver In
his hand.
“Hands up!” he cried.
He knew nothing of South African
tricks of marksmanship, or the train-
ing of native mounts. For an instant
he saw Van Vorst sitting on his horse,
motionless; at the next the horse had
curveted to one side, and Winton’s out-
stretched hand caught at nothing.
| Then Van Vorst fired his last shot.
i
"session of his revolver.
was empty.
The bullet pierced the horse's brain.
It reared in its death agony. Winton,
flung over its flank, fell prostrate.
As he fell, he managed to retain pos-
Van Vorst
saw it; he snapped his weapon, but it
With a curse he spurred
his horse and galloped away.
Winton disengaged himself from his
dead mount and staggered to his feet.
He saw Van Vorst disappearing into
the chloroform away. The scalp
wound had ceased to bleed. Winton
began to feel stronger. And he watched
Sheila, riding gracefully at his side.
He perceived that her saddle was of
the thinnest and most pliable leather,
her feet hardly touched the stirrups;
she rode like one of the centauresque
figures upon the Elgin marbles. Who
and what was she? He could not be
lieve that this girl was the child of
the old thief and drunkard who had
betrayed him.
But the sense of riding beside her
across the free desert transported him
to the seventh heaven of happiness.
The Hottentot had disappeared; they
were alone; he believed that within
an hour he would have solved the mys-
| tery and proved it nothing.
the illimitable distance. All round him |
was the desert.
when he was stronger he would have to
pick his way back to Malopo by his
horse’s tracks.
He must have dozed for a few
minutes, for when he looked up again
he saw two riders cantering toward
him across the desert.
CHAPTER IX.
Sheila’s Secret.
As they came nearer he saw that ona
of them was a woman. He watched
the pair with apathy; he felt too ill to
be interested in anything very much.
But in a moment he was upon his
feet, staring incredulously at the girl.
The blaze of moonlight upon her face
revealed to him—Sheila!
The other man was a Hottentot. At
first he thought it was Bottlejohn.
Then he perceived it was a shorter,
younger man. He was evidently
Sheila’s escort.
But it was Sheila’s appearance even
more than her presence there that as-
tonished Winton. She wore a ragged
suit of khaki, with tail boots that
reached to the edge of her knicker-
bockers, in her hair was a wreath of
the pungent yellow flowers of the arid
He sat down wearily; °
Yet even then he was vaguely con-
scious that something in his brain
checked the impulses of his heart,
warning him, counseling prudence,
questioning even his love,
The girl said nothing, and Winton
did not break the silence. The miles
were reeled off behind them; Winton
did not know how long they traveled,
but it was not yet dawn when the
desert began to give place to a range
of broken hills. They ascended a defile
betwen two boulder-strewn elevations.
. Now the character of the country had
lands, her bare throat was encircled ,
with a necklace of blue beads, and |
there were bracelets of hammered cop-
per upon her wrists.
She leaped from her horse and ran
to Winton. “Did he hurt you?” she
cried.
Then, seeing the blood upon his face,
she uttered an exclamation of fear and
began to wipe it with a handkerchief
that she drew from her pocket.
“You are wounded!”
“A slight hit on the head—Ilike that
other,” sald Winton. “I'm sll right, {
think. Sheila—"
“Pll tel! you how I came here. {
heard of the conspiracy. Ut wm
planned by De Witt. He meant to get
the diamond so that you should not sell
it and raise money. You would have
to go to the syndicate.”
“Well, Van Vorst has it all right,”
answered Winton.
He was still looking in wonder at
the girl. Her whole demeanor had
changed. She seemed freer, more con-
fident, bolder, braver.
“I'll tell you how I came here,” the
girl repeated. “I learned of the scheme, |
Judge Davis hatched it through De |
Witt. They employed Van Vorst, prom-
ising him the diamond. Van Vorst
wanted to get downcountry. He
agreed. My father knew. They wished
him to have a hand in it, but he was
afraid. Oh, don’t think it was loyalty
to you!” she cried.
“I warred you from the beginning,”
the girl went on. “You should have
left us alone. It was not for me to tell
you that in his fear of De Witt my
father would do anything, betray any
trust rather than risk his life. That
man has hounded us, and some day he
will meet his deserts. But when I
heard of the plan I rode in te warn
you. And I have met you. That's all.”
“No, Sheila,” said Winton, looking
at her and feeling the old mad infatu-
ation for her again, mingled with the
old doubts and uncertainties.
is one thing you have not told me:
how you came here, «r from where
you have come.”
“If I tell you, I must tell you what
I do not want to tell you,” she an-
swered quietly. “I have asked you,
in memory of the honor you did me
in the coach at Taungs to leave me,
and to let me keep the truth from
you. Isn't that enough?”
“It would be enough if I did not be-
lieve that you are the victim of a
hallucination, Sheila,” Winton an-
swered.
“Then you shall know,” cried the
girl. “In any event, you cannot ride
. back to Malopo tonight, wounded as
you are. It is eight miles away, and
it is only flve to my—my home.”
There was a bitterness in her voice as
she spoke. “If you can ride, and will
. ride with me tonight, you shall know
Van Vorst turned ta watch him, and the
everything that you want to know be-
fore we part for the last time.”
“I can ride,” answered Winton. “And
I wish to know, to prove to you that
what seems so dreadful to you is a
trifle, something that we can laugh at,
Sheila.”
The girl's attitude was expressive of
intense excitement as she listened.
She made no reply, but, turning to the
Hottentot, addressed him in his own
tongue. The man clicked in answer,
dismounted from his horse, led it to
Winton, and, plaeing the reins in his
hands, set off at an even jog across
the desert in the direction from which
they had come.
Winton would have helped Sheila
into the saddle, but she vaulted in
without touching the stirrup, and sat
upright on her mount, wa‘ting for him.
He clambered up, and they set off side
i by side.
The fresh breeze, blowing on Win-
ton's face, drove the last traces of
“There
changed. Imperceptibly the desert fell
away. There was green grass under-
foot, an occasional cactus raised its
spiny joints among the rocks, here and
there were clusters of acacias.
A man baboon barked at them from
among the rocks, in challenge of their
invasion of his domain, hurled a stone
at them, and fled scrambling into his
cave. Though no life was in evidence,
there was that indefinite stirring
around them that betokens the prep:
arations for day. A breeze came up;
then a line of amber appeared under
the cloud banks in the east.
Dawn was at hand as they rode
into the broken hills. Their horses
climbed steep slopes, dislodging show:
ers of stones, then began to descend
into a fertile valley.
In the distance Winton could see 3
cluster of beehive huts, the headquar
ters of the native tribe. And still
neither he nor Sheila had spoken.
The Hottentot who had set off afoo
had arrived before them. He ap
peared out of a cleft in the mountains
and indicated to Winton that he wai
to dismount. Winton and Sheila as
cended a little slope afoot, towar¢
the village.
In the center was a clearing, already
occupied by a number: of natives. They
were naked, except for their lolx
cloths, and carried long throwin!
spears and white ox-hide shields.
At
the two approached the chattering!
ceased.
Winton perceived in the middle o
them a very old woman, wearin: fhe
waist cioth and a gaudily-coloie
viunket over her shoulders,
‘the natives sprang to their feet a
Sheila drew near and uttered a deep:
voiced salutation. She spoke a 1ew
words, and silently they filed away inc
the huts. The old woman, Winton
and Sheila were alone in front of
smoldering fire.
The aged woman raised her eyes!
and fixed them on Winton's face
Winton looked at her intently. She
was not unprepossessing, and he could
see now that, like most of her race
she had aged more quickly than the
vears of a white woman would have
warranted. Perhaps she was about sixty
Her skin was the color of a dark
Furopean's, sunburned rather than pig:
mented, and the features were regu
lar; the eyes lacked the semioblique
setting of the Hottentot’s. It was clear
that she had a considerable, perhaps
a preponderating proportion of Cau
casian blood.
Sheila turned to Winton, and, ir
spite of his minimizing of her prom:
ised revelation he felt a chill at his
heart at the sight of her face.
“This is my mother,” she said, and
bending, kissed the old woman.
Winton stood perfectly still. The
revelation had stunned him. As in 8
dream he looked into the old creature’s
wrinkled face, conscious of Sheila’s
eyes fixed on his own. A bird broke
' into song; the tops of the mountains
|
|
|
|
were silhouetted against the red of the
sky; nothing seemed to stir, and the
bird went on singing.
Sheila beckoned to Winton, and he
followed her to the summit of the ele.
vation. They were quite alone, look:
ing down on the ring of native huts
and the doll-like figure of the old queen
of the tribe, who had not stirred. Evi:
dently she had not understood what
Sheila had said.
Sheila faced Winton calmly. “It is
your doing,” she said quietly. *1
wanted you to leave me. Yes, I am
the daughter of a white man and a
half-breed native woman.
“After my father ran away from
civilization, fearing capture by the po-
lce, he made his way into these ter-
ritories. So much De Witt told you
He wanted to tell you the rest. Per-
haps it would have been better if he
had done so, but I could not have
borne it then. I had been honored by
you, as by none of the men in Malopo
who know who I am. A native woman,
one with the least speck of hlack blood
in her, is always a native in their eyes,
Is it not so in your own land?”
“Yes,” answered Winton.
“My father became a native chief,
a8 many white men have done in South
Africa. Unlike them, he married only
one wife. That woman became mv
mother. I was brought up in her
kraal, My earliest recollections are of
the tribesmen going out to war.
seen captives slaughtered, and warriors | 8
stabbed through the body with spears, | called divine.
and barbarous, bloody sacrifices. That
was in the days when the interior of
Bechuanaland was an unknown land.
{
i
}
i
three-fourths of my blood is white?
“My father became chief of this
tribe. The natives would not let him
lead them in battle. They set too
I
4 i
N h
SONNY \
WN
WAN
high a value on his counsel. And he
governed them wisely. There is no
man from one end of the country to
the other who does not know ‘King’
Seaton.
“When I was six years old my fa-
ther thought that the danger of pur:
suit was over. He planned to take me
away, so that I might be brought up
among his people. He thought I would
forget my birth. He thought that he
would give me what he considered to
be my rightful heritage. He stole
away by night, abandoning my mother,
The tribe would not have let him go.
“But he found that it was not easy
to sink his identity. He changed lia
name, but in vain. Wherever he went
natives recognized him and told their
masters. He had to flee constantly.
Mr. De Witt knew his secret. He
wanted to make use of him in some
dishonest work for which only my fa-
ther could help him. My father yield:
ed to his threats, and thereafter De
Witt hounded him.
“At last my father went back to his
tribe, to find that my mother had suc-
ceeded to the leadership. He was al
ready an outcast among the whites;
now he became an outcast among the
blacks also. The tribe respected him,
but they feared him, they thought he
was a government agent; they never
trusted him. He had become the lone
liest man in the whole world.
“And as for me, the memory of
those early years was stamped indell-
bly upon my mind. I looked at mes
| and things from the mative’s point of
view. I, too, was known as ene of ns
sivod. People pitied me, derided
«, but none held out a helping hand.
{md never, until you honored me in
|
I have | founded,
the coach had any man recognized
that I might have the instincts of the
white woman—some of them. Per-
haps, if you had known you would
have felt the same as they did.”
“No, Sheila,” answered Winton.
“I wanted you not to know. Has it
ever occurred to you that a simple
| word from a stranger may change the
entire course of our lives? You helped
me when I had come to despair. Your
kindness meant more to me than you
can possibly recognize. For I will
speak plainly to you now that at last
you understand the fatuity of your
course.
“When Mr. De Witt became infatu-
ated with me I knew that he had a wife
downcountry whom he had abandoned.
And he knew that I knew it. He did
not deceive me. It had never entered
his mind that I could expect him to
marry a woman with native blood. He
had sworn to me that if I went away
with him his persecution of my father
should stop. There was nothing in his
conduct toward me that might not have
been done by any man in Malopo. No
blame would have attached itself to
him in Malopo’s eyes.
“I told him that I was willing to
sacrifice myself for my father's sake.
Why not? I am a native woman; why
should I obey the law of the whites
when I am a thing shunned and de-
spised ?”
“Sheila!” cried Winton hoarsely.
“Yes, despised,” she repeated, fling-
Ing out the words defiantly. “As you
despise me now.”
“You are wrong, Sheila. You have
suffered, not through people's con-
tempt, but because the world is
thoughtless.” :
She laughed contemptuously.
“Never mind the world,” she an-
swered. “Listen to one thing, and be
proud of it if you care to be. Before
I met you, when life seemed hepeless,
I had resolved to yield to De Witt to
save my father's life, which is in his
power. You saved me. I was going
with him that night, but I know that
there was murder in my heart. I was
going to kill him. You showed me the
better way ; taught me to honor myself,
even at the cost of my father’s life if
need be.”
‘sheila, I honor you for what you
have told me,” said Winton. “I under-
stand what you have suffered. I do
not pity you, I admire your courage.”
“Yes?” she answered, with an ironic
inflection in her voice. “Perhaps you
will tell me that you still ove me?”
“I love you, Sheila, as I have done
from the first!” he cried.
“And would still ask me to be your
wife?” she persisted relentlessly.
Winton was silent. He knew now
thot the inexorable law of the race is
not on prejudice, but upon
ome interior prompting that may be
In spite of the spell
that the girl exercised over him he
shrank from the idea. And the thought
of his own ostracism that must follow
Do you wonder that I could never feel had the least part in his abhorrence.
at home among white people, though
Sheila laughed, and Winton cried
—
a —
out, stung to the quick:
“I am ready to marry you, Sheila.
And I will take you away from Malopo;
I will take you to America, where none
will ever guess at the truth.”
“You propose too high an honor for
me,” answered the girl ironically. But
then, her bitter mood softened by the
vehemence of his words, she went to
him and put her hands on his shoul-
ders with the old gesture. Her face
was very tender.
“No, my dear,” she answered. “I
have made you suffer in my outraged
pride; 1 have brought sorrow upon you
in return for the kindness you have
shown me. But I would never do you
this wrong.”
“Sheila, it is no wrong!”
“The race bar—"
“Means nothing. You have inherited
aone of the qualities of—of your
mother.” :
“Are we responsible only to our
selves then?’ asked the giil, seeming
to shrink for the first time under her
ordeal. “Or are we, each one of us,
custodians of the race? You, at least,
have your duty to the generation that
is to follow yours.
“In the years to come you will thank
me, if you cannot now. Good-by; and
believe that, if my heart were not
warped and twisted, it would be yours,
though I could never be.”
Of a sudden the sun’s rim burst
above the valley, turning it into a glow
of gold. The lengthy shadows of the
mountains swept it from end to end.
In the huts beneath them there was a
stirring. Women, their straight bodies
as graceful as Greek statues, carrying
water pitchers made from wild gourds
upon their heads in classic guise, began
to walk in single file along the path
down to the spring. Winton saw a
group of warriors standing, and looking
up at them.
“] have one more word to say,”
Sheila added. “The tribesmen are dis-
satisfied about their lands, as you must
know. There have been rumors of a
rebellion. They are well founded. The
meeting last night was to discuss the
chances of an uprising. I know no
more. But warn Malopo. This is the
last service that I can do for those who
are no longer my people.”
She turned and began to descend the
slope. Winton stood watching her un-
til she had mingled with the throng of
savages below. Then only did he seem
to wake from the dream that had taken
possession of him since the moment of
their encounter in the desert.
He shuddered and, sick and broken,
tore himself with almost a physical
effort and set his face toward the
Juogart,
Only thet nhseure race duty which is
woavnr quwaekened in the vast majority
a? req nravented him from obeying hig
~ to follow her Into the native
aati
aims
village and do what Seaton had dene.
| In spite of Sheila's vehemence Winton
: believed that he could overconie her
scruples. He felt that she loved him,
or rather, that there was, beneath her
moods, beneath her hardness, a spring
of love, loyal and inexhaustible,
Presently Winton perceived the Hont-
tentot whom he had encountered in
the desert. The man came up to iilia
and indicated by signs that it wus his
mission to guide him out of the moun-
tains.
Winton followed him, not along the
route by which they had come, but
along a defile in the hills, which led,
apparently, in the opposite direction,
though, after many twistings, it finuuy
turned southward.
The desert appeared again. Winton
could see the vast, dead waste, which
was so appropriate to his heart, ex-
tended, flat and like a frozen sea,
toward the horizon. An indeterminate
green line showed where the fertile
valley ended. A ridge of cactus trees,
which steod out upon the very verge
of the sand, formed a sort of palisade.
The land was ablaze with sunlight.
Winton stopped at the edge of the
desert and looked back. The moun-
tains, concealing Sheila, holding her
against him securely, had drawn to-
gether. Nothing living seemed to stir
among those clefts and peaks.
Yet, as Winton’s eyes wandered up-
ward they fixed themselves upon one
living thing, on the very summit of the
highest peak of all, which overhung
the plain. It was the nude form of a
black sentinel, armed with spear and
ox-hide targe.
With the superb gesture of a dis-
cobolus the man! hurled the spear,
straight as an arrow, toward the sun.
It seemed to hang poised a moment In
the void, and plunged downward, bury-
ing itself to the middle of the shaft
in the sand at Winton’s feet.
(Continued next week).
HAMBONE’S MEDITATIONS
DEY AIN NO USE ER-
TALKIN =- EF A MAN
BEES MUCH UV A MAN,
DEYS A RIGHT SMAHT
© GAWD IN ‘IM!