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KINGS-MATE
BY ROSITA FORBES &Ri%s
STORY FROM THE START
Rosemary Crofton is visiting
the governor's palace in Fez,
Morocco, with her aunt, Lady
Tregarten. A Frenchman, De
Vries, makes love to-her. He tells
her of the Kaid, a mysterious
person in the sgrvice of the
sultan. Rosemary repulses De
Vries’ love. Next morning, while
riding, she is thrown from her
horse and rendered unconscious.
She is rescued by Riff tribes
men and meets the Kaid, who
turns out to be an Englishman.
CHAPTER ll—Continued
—4—
The Englishman turned to the Uerga
men at his elbow, A volley of ques
tion and answer passed over the un
comprehending Rosemary., Her eyes
were glued to the everyday figure in
front of her, as if she were afraid it
might prove to be one more among
her dreams, With a vigorous gesture,
he silenced the Arabs. A hand on the
chief’s arm, he spoke slowly, empha
sizing his words. The tribesman
nodded and drove his followers, like
chickens, to the other side of the pla
teau.
“I* understand it now,” said the
man, when they were left in compara
tive solitude. “What a h—l of a mess,
isn’t it? Have you had’any break
fast?”
The words were so commonplace
that Rosemary smiled. “Well, no—l
hadn’t thought of it. Who are you?
Where—"” but her companion inter
rupted to shout: :
“Pete! Come here a moment!”
A tall figure disengaged itself from
saddlery and horses. Dressed in worn
breeches and puttees, a greenish shirt
open at the throat, it slouched across
and stood expressionless before them.
“Food,” said the Englishman, “any
thing you can get hold of, quickly—
coffee first,” and there followed some
swift sentences in Arabic. “That’s
Pete; he’s invaluable and he’ll raise a
meal in no time.”
“Yes, but who are you?” repeated
Rosemary. “I can hardly believe
you're real.”
“Very real, very dirty, and rather
done in after a twenty-hour ride!”
returned the man.
“Haven’t you a name?”
“Many,” he said, and hesitated, a
gleam caught somewhere in the steel
and leather of his face,
Rosemary bit short an exclamation,
One word had echoed through the
babel of Arab speech. She had seen,
but without registering, the deference
paid to the newcomer, She remem
bered the stories of De Vries, the
legends rife in Fez. “Are you the
Kaid?" -
“That’s one of my names, certainly.”
“Then, you do exist! Tlez would
give a fortune to know it, Thank
heaven you came here, You can make
these men send me back.”
The tall figure did not move, It
was propped negligently against the
rock, one hand In a pocket,
“That’s just the one thing I can’t do
for you,” said a voice that was quite
different from the deliberately care
less tones which had spoken of break
fast,
CHAPTER 111
“What do you mean?” asked Rose
mary. “Of course, you can get me out
of this, They say you can do any
thing you like up here,” but she spoke
with less confidence,
“Will you invite me into your cave
and I'll have a shot at explanation,”
returned the man,
They seated themselves in the
ghadow within the opening, out of
glght of the still curlous Rlffs, “Bad
thing to begin an argument on an
empty inside, but here goes, Surely
you heard in Fez that there was no
way into these mountains from the
gouth, That's our greatest safeguard,
D'you think we could keep our end up
if I'rance knew of the pass through
which these fools brought you?’
“I could pever find it again,” Inter
rupted Rosemary,
“Some one else wonld. Besides,
you've discovered another of our se
crets. You know the Kald exists and
that he's English, Rotten luck on our
government if that got out,”
“I'd never tell,” urged the girl. “You
know I'd never tell.”
“Perhaps not, but they’d find out all
the same. Miss—Crofton is it ?—you’ve
only seen one side of Fez, the draw
ing-room side. You don’t really sup
pose that Lyautey or Marshal Petain
would let you get away with it? It
means too much to them, They’d have
all you know out of you within twen
ty-four hours and then the fur would
fly!"
“So you mean to keep me here in
definitely—it's impossible! I can't
spend the rest of my life in the Riff
with—with only a comb!”
A flash of humor came to her res
cue, “It’s not quite as bad as that. A
few months ought to see it out.
France doesn't want to conquer the
Riff. She only wants to give Abd-el
Krim such a lesson that he’ll leave
her tributary tribes alone. When Pe
tain is quite certain that there’ll be
no more raiding in the legitimate
French zone, he'll be ready to make
peace. It's the Spaniards who are the
difficulty. They want to wipe out a
dozen old scores, and they won't be
content till they’ve hammered the
source of them.”
“May T ask where exactly you come
into it?”
“It’s my job.”
“You are in their pay?” Rosemary
flung out, and regretted the words im
mediately.
“Looks like it, doesn’t it?” returned
her companion imperturbably. “Here’s
food.”
Pete approached, bearing an odd
collection of tin plates and mugs, and
a couple of native pots, containing
coffee and goat’s milk, . -
“You're a wonder, man. Where did
you get the eggs—llaid ’em, eh?”
The extempore cook was speechless,
Amid a series of grunts, he spread the
meal before them and, with a jerk of
his head in the direction of the horses,
retired.
. “Pete is not a conversationalist. He
was once my orderly, but, to this day,
I know nothing about him, except that
long ago he was an Australian. Now
he's nothing at all, doesn't know one
country from another,” He ran on,
pleasantly, while he poured out coffee
and helped the girl to the cleanest
eggs, but Rosemary did not respond.
With a piece of dried biscuit in her
hand, she remarked: *“I suppose I
shall wake up soon.”
“It must seem rather a nightmare,
but I'm convinced it’'ll end pretty
quick. The French have pushed us
back beyond the frontier they claim,
Honor is satisfied, and they've too
much common sense to involve them
selves in trying to govern the Riff.
They're not out for conquest, and I'll
bet you they're only waiting to knock
some sense of proportion into their
allies, before they offer us terms. It's
deuced bad luck, I know—l'm most
awfully sick about it.” The tired,
light eyes met her own., They looked
as if they had not slept for weeks, and
the network of creases which surround
ed them was outlined in caked dust.
“But you're not so sick,” retorted
Rosemary, “that you'll let me go
bavk **
“Wish I could, but we haven't so
many cards up here that we can afford
to give away two of them, You know
too much, lady—l wish to God you
didn't—and I've jolly well got to see
our intelligent enemies don't get hold
of your information.”
“My aunt will be worfled out of her
senses, She'll think I'm dead.,” Rose
mary was appalled by her inartie
ulacy. “I won't stay,” she flung at
him, *“I know the general direction
we came in. If you won't let me have
a horse, I'll walk, You ecan’'t make me
stay.” A flame burned In her cheeks,
but the man took no notice,
“I could make youn stay, of course,
but it lsn't necessary. Go out and
take a look at the country! You could
no more find your way to I"ez than fly,
Everything Is quite all right. You'll
gee,” returned the Kaid, rising. “I'm
going to get a bit of sleep, D'you think
you can manage here today? We can
rig up a sort of tent if you like, and
we won't starve you. I'll do every.
thing T can for you, but you've got to
stick it out.” :
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
One tree will make 1,000,000
matches, but one mateh will destroy
1,000,000 trees, says a forest expert,
HERALD, FOLKSTON, GEORGIA.
- WHY
JEAN WAS
BLUE
(@ by D. J. Walsh.)
EAN LEMAN was blue as indigo.
As a matter of fact, she was jeal
ous — hopelessly, heart-breakingly
jealous. She stoed at the ranch
house window, watehing Perry ride
off with Phyllis Sharmon, the baby
faced eastern girl, who had arrived
to be “Pa” Leman's paying guest for
a month. Phyllis was clad absurdly
in a smartly tailored broadecloth habit
and was riding Jean’s cwn special
pony. Moreover Jean had not been
consulted in the matter, so it was
simply adding insult to injury. Phyllis
was or pretended to be, a novice at
riding, and seemed to require con
siderable instruction from her escort.
Perry had been Pa Leman’s right
hand man at the ranch for six months
now, and had spent most of his spare
hours during that time with Jean,
And yet he appeared to Jean's hurt
and bewildered eyes to be absolutely
delighted with his new role of guide
and instructor to the pertly attractive
stranger. :
Jean’s eyes grew misty with tears
and her heart felt pitifully heavy as
she thought of the difference between
her present depression and her ex
cited happiness just twenty-four hours
earlier. The evening before she had
gone with Perry, as she had gone
dozens of times, to see that the horses
were safe for the night. Just before
they returned to the house Jean had
stumbled and was suddenly held tight
in Perry’s strong arms. The very re
membrance of the kiss that followed
made Jean’s heart beat faster even
now. It was her first kiss, and though
no words had been spoken, Jean had
lain awake far into the night, thrilled
with vision of a wedding and a pos
sible honeymeon in that far visionary
city of New York. And now, this—
Perry had gone to meet the eastern
girl before Jean was up that morning
and had been with her constantly
ever since, He had no right to take
it for granted that Jean’s pony should
be the one for Phyllis Sharmon to
ride. She wished the girl had stayed
in the East, where she belonged.
~ Jean went te bed before the riders
returned. Perry’s laugh and a giggle
trrom Phyllis (%o;a' up to her just as
she was dropping off to sleep and
‘kept her miserably awake for hours,
Perry stopped her next morning to
ask: '
“Not angry, are you, Jean?” And
such a lump came into Jean's throat
that she was helpless to answer and
turned back to hide her tears. Then
Phyllis claimed his attention, and
Jean didn’t see him alone all day.
And se it went on for days, until
Jean was just an aching bit of hope
less misery. Wanting desperately to
conceal her unhappiness from Perry,
yet utterly unable to be her old
natural self, she answered him so
shortly when he did speak to her that
he soon avoided her altogether, Some
times she fancied she saw a hurt,
questioning look in his eyes, but al
ways became convinced later that it
must have been her imaginatien, Cer
tainly he seemed to get along famous
ly with Phyllis, and Jean’s resentment
toward the other girl grew into a bit
terness that was more than dislike,
One evening Perry had ridden over
to a neighboring ranch on some busi
ness for Pa Leman. Jean was just
feeling a grim satisfaction in the
thought that at least Phyllis couldn't
be with him, when the eastern girl
came in, dressed for riding. She spoke
to Jean, ceolly patronizing.
“Saddle my pony, will you, Jean.
I'm going to ride over to meet Perry,
The rage that suddenly surged into
Jean's heart frightened her, She went
out of the house to the stable. She
hated the pretty eastern girl with
her plucked eyebrows and her too
red lips—what right had she to steal
away Jean's whole life's happiness?
“My pony,” she said. It was Jean's
pony. Phyllis "had apprepriated the
pony a 8 coolly as she had the man
Jean's eyes fell on the little horse
that Pa ‘Leman had recently brought
home for Perry to break In. It was
almost a ccunterpart In size and color
of Jean's own pony, He was becom.
ing accustomed te the saddle, but Pa
Leman had forbidden Jean to ride
him, Jean's lips were set In a deter
mined line, and her eyes gleanmed dan
gerously, Phyllls would never know
the difference between the two ponies
in the dusky light of approaching
darkness. Let the patronizing little
eastern heartbreaker ride the forbid.
den pony and test the value of the
riding lessons that Perry had given
her, She saddled the horse without
much diffieulty and led him with beat.
ing heart to the house, where she
helped Phyllis te mount and stood
watching her ride off. -She was all
right while the pony was walking,
but let her try to keep her seat once
the horse broke into gallop,
Then when the waves of anger
which had enveloped her had sub
sided Jean was simply overwhelmed
with remorse. She thought she had
suffered before, but her former misery
was nothing compared to the despair
that filled her heart as a succession of
pictured disasters passed before her
mental vision. How could she have
been so utterly insane? Phyllis would
be killed and Jean would be respon
sible. Should she saddle her own pony
and ride after her? But that would
be a confession. There was nothing
else she could do. It was quite dark
now and she stood in the doerway,
straining her eyes to see across the
sage brush, just waiting and waiting
—for what, she hardly dared to think,
When, at last, she heard some one
riding toward the house she turned
cold with apprehengfon. It was Perry
—Perry, holding a limp figure on the
saddle before him! Jean could scarce
ly ferce herself to walk down thef
steps to meet him as he came toward |
her with Phyllis in his arms. Her
voice was faint with terror—
“Oh, Perry! She's not—Xkilled?”"
Perry shook his head and pushed
past her into the house., Jean followed
him up the stairs and watched in ter
rified silence while he laid the un
conscious girl on the bed. Then Per
ry dashed off for the nearest doctor
and Jean sat beside Phyllls In an
agony of suspense, sending out little
wordless prayers for the girl's recov
ery. It was terrible to think that,
loving Perry as she did, she was per
haps responsible for the wrecking of
his happiness. How could she ever
atone?
Perry and the doctor came at last,
The minutes dragged into hours while
Jean and Perry waited oulside the
bedroom doer. Then, when the doctor
opened the door and gave Jean a re
assuring smile Jean's face went white
and she swayed unsteadily. Perry
looked at her surprised—
“ Why, Jean, did she mean so much
to you?”
The doctor told them that Phyllis
was badly bruised, but there was
nothing serious, and left them,
Jean turned to Perry—*"lf you only
knew !”
Perry said hesitatingly: “It was
sort of lucky that I happened along
when I did. Miss Phyllis had dis
mounted and was walking too close
to the cliff above the river—"
Jean's eyes widened and she
clutched at Perry’s hands,
“Do you mean that the horse didn't
throw her—that she fell herself?”
: a"gg as Perry nodded she sighed,
deeply in relieved tblnkt\llmulu
WEBE OB et E e e
“Perry 1 knew now that I only want
you to be happy—"
Perry’s face lighted up, and he put
his arms quickly around her.
“Well, Jean, I guess you know what
I need to make me happy.”
“But I thought—that Phyllis—"
Perry laughed joyously., “Why, you
little goose—do you mean to say that
you've been jealous? And all the time
I thought you were angry because I
kissed you!”
And so, with their second kiss, all
of Jean's “blue devils” faded away to
parts unknown and life took on a
roseate hue once more,
Nothing to Brag Of
At a plantation on the Savannah
river, where he was a guest, Dr. S,
Weir Mitchell and his host were en-
Joying their after-dinner cigar and
commenting on the beauties of the
scenery, when the moon rose over the
bayou. The doctor exclaimed :
“Look at that great, mellow, warm,
tropical moon, blg as a cartwheel, Up
In Vermont that moon wouldn’t be big
¥er than a pint cup and It would be all
hung over with icicles.”
Doctor Mitchell gazed rapturously
on the moon and continued :
“I don't wonder that the South de
velops temperament, that poets and
artists and orators come from the
South when you have that beautiful
mellow moon to look at.”
The colonel gazed sadly on the moon
and replied:
“You like that moon, doctor? You
Just orter seen that moon befo' the
wah,”
The New Science
Seeretury Parker Moon, of the New
York Academy of Politleal Science,
was discussing the enormous came
pnign expenditures of certain candi
dates,
“These chaps,” he 864, “don't seem
to understand politieai economy,”
Then he luughed and went on:
“A boy sald to his father:
“‘Pop, what's political economy,
anyhow ¥’
“‘Political economy? sald the fa
ther. ‘Why, any fool ought to know
that politicul economy Is the sclence
of not buyin' any more votes nor pay
in' no higher for ‘em than wot you
actunlly need'”
Garrulous Spouse
Brown—lt's a good rule to think
before you speak.
Jones—Yes, but fortunately It Isn't
compulsory or my poor wife wouid
have braln fag.~Boston Transcript,
’r"'— S v
tr-lake Healing
”/fl’.-—-w l h ba h
5 e Sulphur bat
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il so eAT t home
j"//" \ e
) -—
) (T -
7 | Mpar > o e
: = o A
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Hancock Sulphur Compound Qintment — so¢
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Grove’s
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Destroys Malarial Germs|
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o uscful Booklet ut .
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