United States or Western Sahara ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
But Meriem could but shudder as she recalled the cruelties of this terrible old hag in the years gone by. Among the Arabs who had come in her absence was a tall young fellow of twenty a handsome, sinister looking youth who stared at her in open admiration until The Sheik came and ordered him away, and Abdul Kamak went, scowling. At last, their curiosity satisfied, Meriem was alone.
"What sort of appearing man is he?" continued Bwana. "About how old, should you say?" "I should say he was an Englishman, about my own age," replied Baynes; "though he might be older. He is remarkably muscled, and exceedingly tanned." "His eyes and hair, did you notice them?" Bwana spoke rapidly, almost excitedly. It was Meriem who answered him.
Lady Greystoke looked quickly up into the eyes of her son the son who one day would be Lord Greystoke. No thought of the difference in the stations of the girl and her boy entered her mind. To her Meriem was fit for a king. She only wanted to know that Jack loved the little Arab waif.
He says that the blacks fear him now, and at first sight of him the women and children run shrieking to their huts; but he follows them within, and it is not often that he returns without arrows for himself and a present for Meriem. Korak is mighty among the jungle people our Korak, Geeka no, MY Korak!"
Meriem stopped short in her tracks, listening again, and sniffing more than ever the tigress; alert, ready. Beyond the bushes a naked black runner squatted, peering through the foliage. He saw her take a step closer to the letter. She had seen it. He rose quietly and following the shadows of the bushes that ran down to the corral was soon gone from sight.
"I have heard of you and I know that you have no love for The Sheik, your father. Neither have I. I will not betray you. Let me see the picture." Friendless among cruel enemies, Meriem clutched at the straw that Abdul Kamak held out to her. Perhaps in him she might find the friend she needed.
"Hadn't we better steer clear of that fellow?" suggested the Hon. Morison. "I guess you didn't hear him." "Yes, I heard him," laughed Meriem. "Let's ride over and call on him." The Hon. Morison laughed uneasily. He didn't care to appear at a disadvantage before this girl, nor did he care, either, to approach a hungry lion too closely at night.
"The picture!" he cried. "What picture did the dog speak of? Where is it? Give it to me at once!" "He took it," replied Meriem, dully. "What was it?" again demanded The Sheik, seizing the girl roughly by the hair and dragging her to her feet, where he shook her venomously. "What was it a picture of?" "Of me," said Meriem, "when I was a little girl.
The lion leaped too; but the nimble Meriem had swung herself beyond his reach without a second or an inch to spare. The man breathed a sigh of relief as he lowered his rifle. He saw the girl fling a grimace at the angry, roaring, maneater beneath her, and then, laughing, speed away into the forest. For an hour the lion remained about the water hole.
Baynes will accompany you. Drop over in the morning, if you please, and now good night, and thank you for keeping a watchful eye on Meriem." Hanson hid a grin as he turned and sought his saddle. Bwana stepped from the verandah to his study, where he found the Hon. Morison pacing back and forth, evidently very ill at ease.
Word Of The Day