Meriem had traversed half the length of the village streetwhen a score of white-robed Negroes and half-castes leapedout upon her from the dark interiors of surrounding huts.She turned to flee, but heavy hands seized her, and when sheturned at last to plead with them her eyes fell upon the faceof a tall, grim, old man glaring down upon her from beneaththe folds of his burnous.

At sight of him she staggered back in shocked and terrified surprise. It was The Sheik!

Instantly all the old fears and terrors of her childhood returnedupon her. She stood trembling before this horrible old man,as a murderer before the judge about to pass sentence of deathupon him. She knew that The Sheik recognized her. The yearsand the changed raiment had not altered her so much but what onewho had known her features so well in childhood would know her now.

"So you have come back to your people, eh?" snarled The Sheik. "Come back begging for food and protection, eh?"

"Let me go," cried the girl. "I ask nothing of you, but thatyou let me go back to the Big Bwana."

"The Big Bwana?" almost screamed The Sheik, and then followeda stream of profane, Arabic invective against the white manwhom all the transgressors of the jungle feared and hated."You would go back to the Big Bwana, would you? So that iswhere you have been since you ran away from me, is it? And whocomes now across the river after you--the Big Bwana?"

"The Swede whom you once chased away from your countrywhen he and his companion conspired with Nbeeda to steal mefrom you," replied Meriem.

The Sheik's eyes blazed, and he called his men to approachthe shore and hide among the bushes that they might ambushand annihilate Malbihn and his party; but Malbihn already hadlanded and crawling through the fringe of jungle was at that verymoment looking with wide and incredulous eyes upon the scenebeing enacted in the street of the deserted village. He recognizedThe Sheik the moment his eyes fell upon him. There were twomen in the world that Malbihn feared as he feared the devil.One was the Big Bwana and the other The Sheik. A single glancehe took at that gaunt, familiar figure and then he turned tailand scurried back to his canoe calling his followers after him. And so it happened that the party was well out in the stream beforeThe Sheik reached the shore, and after a volley and a few partingshots that were returned from the canoes the Arab called hismen off and securing his prisoner set off toward the South.

One of the bullets from Malbihn's force had struck a blackstanding in the village street where he had been left withanother to guard Meriem, and his companions had left him wherehe had fallen, after appropriating his apparel and belongings. His was the body that Baynes had discovered when he had enteredthe village.

The Sheik and his party had been marching southward alongthe river when one of them, dropping out of line to fetch water,had seen Meriem paddling desperately from the opposite shore.The fellow had called The Sheik's attention to the strange sight--a white woman alone in Central Africa and the old Arab had hiddenhis men in the deserted village to capture her when she landed,for thoughts of ransom were always in the mind of The Sheik. More than once before had glittering gold filtered throughhis fingers from a similar source. It was easy money and TheSheik had none too much easy money since the Big Bwana hadso circumscribed the limits of his ancient domain that he darednot even steal ivory from natives within two hundred miles ofthe Big Bwana's douar. And when at last the woman had walkedinto the trap he had set for her and he had recognized her as thesame little girl he had brutalized and mal-treated years beforehis gratification had been huge. Now he lost no time inestablishing the old relations of father and daughter that hadexisted between them in the past. At the first opportunity hestruck her a heavy blow across the face. He forced her to walkwhen he might have dismounted one of his men instead, or had hercarried on a horse's rump. He seemed to revel in the discovery ofnew methods for torturing or humiliating her, and among all hisfollowers she found no single one to offer her sympathy, or whodared defend her, even had they had the desire to do so.

A two days' march brought them at last to the familiar scenesof her childhood, and the first face upon which she set her eyesas she was driven through the gates into the strong stockade wasthat of the toothless, hideous Mabunu, her one time nurse. It wasas though all the years that had intervened were but a dream.Had it not been for her clothing and the fact that she had grown instature she might well have believed it so. All was there as shehad left it--the new faces which supplanted some of the old wereof the same bestial, degraded type. There were a few young Arabswho had joined The Sheik since she had been away. Otherwise allwas the same--all but one. Geeka was not there, and she foundherself missing Geeka as though the ivory-headed one had been aflesh and blood intimate and friend. She missed her ragged littleconfidante, into whose deaf ears she had been wont to pour hermany miseries and her occasional joys--Geeka, of the splinter limbsand the ratskin torso--Geeka the disreputable--Geeka the beloved.

For a time the inhabitants of The Sheik's village who had notbeen upon the march with him amused themselves by inspectingthe strangely clad white girl, whom some of them had known as alittle child. Mabunu pretended great joy at her return, baringher toothless gums in a hideous grimace that was intended to beindicative of rejoicing. But Meriem could but shudder as sherecalled the cruelties of this terrible old hag in the years gone by.

Among the Arabs who had come in her absence was a tall youngfellow of twenty--a handsome, sinister looking youth--whostared at her in open admiration until The Sheik came andordered him away, and Abdul Kamak went, scowling.

At last, their curiosity satisfied, Meriem was alone. As of old,she was permitted the freedom of the village, for the stockadewas high and strong and the only gates were well-guarded by dayand by night; but as of old she cared not for the companionshipof the cruel Arabs and the degraded blacks who formed thefollowing of The Sheik, and so, as had been her wont in thesad days of her childhood, she slunk down to an unfrequentedcorner of the enclosure where she had often played at house-keeping with her beloved Geeka beneath the spreading branchesof the great tree that had overhung the palisade; but now the treewas gone, and Meriem guessed the reason. It was from this treethat Korak had descended and struck down The Sheik the daythat he had rescued her from the life of misery and torture thathad been her lot for so long that she could remember no other.

There were low bushes growing within the stockade, however,and in the shade of these Meriem sat down to think. A littleglow of happiness warmed her heart as she recalled her firstmeeting with Korak and then the long years that he had caredfor and protected her with the solicitude and purity of anelder brother. For months Korak had not so occupied herthoughts as he did today. He seemed closer and dearer nowthan ever he had before, and she wondered that her heart haddrifted so far from loyalty to his memory. And then came theimage of the Hon. Morison, the exquisite, and Meriem was troubled. Did she really love the flawless young Englishman? She thoughtof the glories of London, of which he had told her in suchglowing language. She tried to picture herself admired andhonored in the midst of the gayest society of the great capital. The pictures she drew were the pictures that the Hon. Morisonhad drawn for her. They were alluring pictures, but through themall the brawny, half-naked figure of the giant Adonis of the junglepersisted in obtruding itself.

Meriem pressed her hand above her heart as she stifled a sigh,and as she did so she felt the hard outlines of the photographshe had hidden there as she slunk from Malbihn's tent. Now shedrew it forth and commenced to re-examine it more carefully thanshe had had time to do before. She was sure that the baby facewas hers. She studied every detail of the picture. Half hiddenin the lace of the dainty dress rested a chain and locket.Meriem puckered her brows. What tantalizing half-memoriesit awakened! Could this flower of evident civilization be thelittle Arab Meriem, daughter of The Sheik? It was impossible,and yet that locket? Meriem knew it. She could not refute theconviction of her memory. She had seen that locket before and ithad been hers. What strange mystery lay buried in her past?

As she sat gazing at the picture she suddenly became aware thatshe was not alone--that someone was standing close behind her--some one who had approached her noiselessly. Guiltily she thrustthe picture back into her waist. A hand fell upon her shoulder. She was sure that it was The Sheik and she awaited in dumb terrorthe blow that she knew would follow.

No blow came and she looked upward over her shoulder--into theeyes of Abdul Kamak, the young Arab.

"I saw," he said, "the picture that you have just hidden. It isyou when you were a child--a very young child. May I see it again?"

Meriem drew away from him.

"I will give it back," he said. "I have heard of you andI 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 strawthat Abdul Kamak held out to her. Perhaps in him she mightfind the friend she needed. Anyway he had seen the picture andif he was not a friend he could tell The Sheik about it and itwould be taken away from her. So she might as well grant hisrequest and hope that he had spoken fairly, and would deal fairly.She drew the photograph from its hiding place and handed it to him.

Abdul Kamak examined it carefully, comparing it, feature by featurewith the girl sitting on the ground looking up into his face. Slowly he nodded his head.

"Yes," he said, "it is you, but where was it taken? How doesit happen that The Sheik's daughter is clothed in the garmentsof the unbeliever?"

"I do not know," replied Meriem. "I never saw the pictureuntil a couple of days ago, when I found it in the tent of theSwede, Malbihn."

Abdul Kamak raised his eyebrows. He turned the picture over andas his eyes fell upon the old newspaper cutting they went wide. He could read French, with difficulty, it is true; but he couldread it. He had been to Paris. He had spent six months therewith a troupe of his desert fellows, upon exhibition, and he hadimproved his time, learning many of the customs, some of thelanguage, and most of the vices of his conquerors. Now heput his learning to use. Slowly, laboriously he read theyellowed cutting. His eyes were no longer wide. Instead theynarrowed to two slits of cunning. When he had done he looked atthe girl.

"You have read this?" he asked.

"It is French," she replied, "and I do not read French."

Abdul Kamak stood long in silence looking at the girl. She wasvery beautiful. He desired her, as had many other men who hadseen her. At last he dropped to one knee beside her.

A wonderful idea had sprung to Abdul Kamak's mind. It was anidea that might be furthered if the girl were kept in ignoranceof the contents of that newspaper cutting. It would certainly bedoomed should she learn its contents.

"Meriem," he whispered, "never until today have my eyesbeheld you, yet at once they told my heart that it must ever beyour servant. You do not know me, but I ask that you trust me.I can help you. You hate The Sheik--so do I. Let me take youaway from him. Come with me, and we will go back to thegreat desert where my father is a sheik mightier than is yours.Will you come?"

Meriem sat in silence. She hated to wound the only one whohad offered her protection and friendship; but she did not wantAbdul Kamak's love. Deceived by her silence the man seizedher and strained her to him; but Meriem struggled to free herself.

"I do not love you," she cried. "Oh, please do not make mehate you. You are the only one who has shown kindness towardme, and I want to like you, but I cannot love you."

Abdul Kamak drew himself to his full height.

"You will learn to love me," he said, "for I shall take youwhether you will or no. You hate The Sheik and so you will nottell him, for if you do I will tell him of the picture. I hateThe Sheik, and--"

"You hate The Sheik?" came a grim voice from behind them.

Both turned to see The Sheik standing a few paces from them.Abdul still held the picture in his hand. Now he thrust itwithin his burnous.

"Yes," he said, "I hate the Sheik," and as he spoke he sprangtoward the older man, felled him with a blow and dashed onacross the village to the line where his horse was picketed,saddled and ready, for Abdul Kamak had been about to rideforth to hunt when he had seen the stranger girl alone bythe bushes.

Leaping into the saddle Abdul Kamak dashed for the village gates. The Sheik, momentarily stunned by the blow that had felled him,now staggered to his feet, shouting lustily to his followers tostop the escaped Arab. A dozen blacks leaped forward to interceptthe horseman, only to be ridden down or brushed aside by the muzzleof Abdul Kamak's long musket, which he lashed from side to sideabout him as he spurred on toward the gate. But here he mustsurely be intercepted. Already the two blacks stationed therewere pushing the unwieldy portals to. Up flew the barrel of thefugitive's weapon. With reins flying loose and his horse at a madgallop the son of the desert fired once--twice; and both the keepersof the gate dropped in their tracks. With a wild whoop of exultation,twirling his musket high above his head and turning in his saddleto laugh back into the faces of his pursuers Abdul Kamak dashedout of the village of The Sheik and was swallowed up by the jungle.

Foaming with rage The Sheik ordered immediate pursuit, andthen strode rapidly back to where Meriem sat huddled by thebushes where he had left her.

"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 girlroughly by the hair and dragging her to her feet, where he shookher venomously. "What was it a picture of?"

"Of me," said Meriem, "when I was a little girl. I stole itfrom Malbihn, the Swede--it had printing on the back cut froman old newspaper."

The Sheik went white with rage.

"What said the printing?" he asked in a voice so low that shebut barely caught his words.

"I do not know. It was in French and I cannot read French."

The Sheik seemed relieved. He almost smiled, nor did heagain strike Meriem before he turned and strode away with theparting admonition that she speak never again to any other thanMabunu and himself. And along the caravan trail galloped AbdulKamak toward the north.

As his canoe drifted out of sight and range of the woundedSwede the Hon. Morison sank weakly to its bottom where helay for long hours in partial stupor.

It was night before he fully regained consciousness. And thenhe lay for a long time looking up at the stars and trying torecollect where he was, what accounted for the gently rockingmotion of the thing upon which he lay, and why the position ofthe stars changed so rapidly and miraculously. For a whilehe thought he was dreaming, but when he would have moved toshake sleep from him the pain of his wound recalled to him theevents that had led up to his present position. Then it wasthat he realized that he was floating down a great African riverin a native canoe--alone, wounded, and lost.

Painfully he dragged himself to a sitting position. He noticedthat the wound pained him less than he had imagined it would.He felt of it gingerly--it had ceased to bleed. Possibly itwas but a flesh wound after all, and nothing serious. If ittotally incapacitated him even for a few days it would meandeath, for by that time he would be too weakened by hunger andpain to provide food for himself.

From his own troubles his mind turned to Meriem's. That shehad been with the Swede at the time he had attempted to reachthe fellow's camp he naturally believed; but he wondered whatwould become of her now. Even if Hanson died of his woundswould Meriem be any better off? She was in the power of equallyvillainous men--brutal savages of the lowest order. Baynes buriedhis face in his hands and rocked back and forth as the hideouspicture of her fate burned itself into his consciousness. And itwas he who had brought this fate upon her! His wicked desirehad snatched a pure and innocent girl from the protection ofthose who loved her to hurl her into the clutches of the bestialSwede and his outcast following! And not until it had becometoo late had he realized the magnitude of the crime he himselfhad planned and contemplated. Not until it had become too latehad he realized that greater than his desire, greater than his lust,greater than any passion he had ever felt before was the newbornlove that burned within his breast for the girl he would have ruined.

The Hon. Morison Baynes did not fully realize the changethat had taken place within him. Had one suggested that he everhad been aught than the soul of honor and chivalry he wouldhave taken umbrage forthwith. He knew that he had done a vilething when he had plotted to carry Meriem away to London, yethe excused it on the ground of his great passion for the girlhaving temporarily warped his moral standards by the intensityof its heat. But, as a matter of fact, a new Baynes had been born.Never again could this man be bent to dishonor by the intensityof a desire. His moral fiber had been strengthened by the mentalsuffering he had endured. His mind and his soul had been purgedby sorrow and remorse.

His one thought now was to atone--win to Meriem's side andlay down his life, if necessary, in her protection. His eyessought the length of the canoe in search of the paddle, for adetermination had galvanized him to immediate action despitehis weakness and his wound. But the paddle was gone. He turnedhis eyes toward the shore. Dimly through the darkness of amoonless night he saw the awful blackness of the jungle, yet ittouched no responsive chord of terror within him now as it haddone in the past. He did not even wonder that he was unafraid, forhis mind was entirely occupied with thoughts of another's danger.

Drawing himself to his knees he leaned over the edge of thecanoe and commenced to paddle vigorously with his open palm.Though it tired and hurt him he kept assiduously at his selfimposed labor for hours. Little by little the drifting canoe movednearer and nearer the shore. The Hon. Morison could hear alion roaring directly opposite him and so close that he felt hemust be almost to the shore. He drew his rifle closer to his side;but he did not cease to paddle.

After what seemed to the tired man an eternity of time he feltthe brush of branches against the canoe and heard the swirl ofthe water about them. A moment later he reached out andclutched a leafy limb. Again the lion roared--very near itseemed now, and Baynes wondered if the brute could have beenfollowing along the shore waiting for him to land.

He tested the strength of the limb to which he clung. It seemedstrong enough to support a dozen men. Then he reached downand lifted his rifle from the bottom of the canoe, slipping thesling over his shoulder. Again he tested the branch, and thenreaching upward as far as he could for a safe hold he drewhimself painfully and slowly upward until his feet swung clearof the canoe, which, released, floated silently from beneath himto be lost forever in the blackness of the dark shadows down stream.

He had burned his bridges behind him. He must either climb aloftor drop back into the river; but there had been no other way. He struggled to raise one leg over the limb, but found himselfscarce equal to the effort, for he was very weak. For a timehe hung there feeling his strength ebbing. He knew that hemust gain the branch above at once or it would be too late.

Suddenly the lion roared almost in his ear. Baynes glanced up. He saw two spots of flame a short distance from and above him. The lion was standing on the bank of the river glaring at him,and--waiting for him. Well, thought the Hon. Morison, lethim wait. Lions can't climb trees, and if I get into thisone I shall be safe enough from him.

The young Englishman's feet hunt almost to the surface of thewater--closer than he knew, for all was pitch dark below asabove him. Presently he heard a slight commotion in the riverbeneath him and something banged against one of his feet,followed almost instantly by a sound that he felt he could nothave mistaken--the click of great jaws snapping together.

"By George!" exclaimed the Hon. Morison, aloud. "The beggarnearly got me," and immediately he struggled again to climbhigher and to comparative safety; but with that final efforthe knew that it was futile. Hope that had survived persistentlyuntil now began to wane. He felt his tired, numbed fingersslipping from their hold--he was dropping back into the river--into the jaws of the frightful death that awaited him there.

And then he heard the leaves above him rustle to the movement ofa creature among them. The branch to which he clung bent beneathan added weight--and no light weight, from the way it sagged; butstill Baynes clung desperately--he would not give up voluntarilyeither to the death above or the death below.

He felt a soft, warm pad upon the fingers of one of his handswhere they circled the branch to which he clung, and thensomething reached down out of the blackness above and draggedhim up among the branches of the tree.