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gentleman and--found that he was wanting. What had he to offer
her by comparison with that which the other man might offer?
What was his "mess of pottage" to the birthright that the other
had preserved? How could he dare go, naked and unkempt, to that
fair thing who had once been his jungle-fellow and propose the
thing that had been in his mind when first the realization of his
love had swept over him? He shuddered as he thought of the
irreparable wrong that his love would have done the innocent
child but for the chance that had snatched her from him before
it was too late. Doubtless she knew now the horror that had
been in his mind. Doubtless she hated and loathed him as he
hated and loathed himself when he let his mind dwell upon it.
He had lost her. No more surely had she been lost when he
thought her dead than she was in reality now that he had seen
her living--living in the guise of a refinement that had
transfigured and sanctified her.
He had loved her before, now he worshipped her. He knew
that he might never possess her now, but at least he might
see her. From a distance he might look upon her. Perhaps he
might serve her; but never must she guess that he had found her
or that he lived.
He wondered if she ever thought of him--if the happy days
that they had spent together never recurred to her mind.
It seemed unbelievable that such could be the case, and yet,
too, it seemed almost equally unbelievable that this beautiful
girl was the same disheveled, half naked, little sprite who
skipped nimbly among the branches of the trees as they ran and
played in the lazy, happy days of the past. It could not be
that her memory held more of the past than did her new appearance.
It was a sad Korak who ranged the jungle near the plain's edge
waiting for the coming of his Meriem--the Meriem who never came.
But there came another--a tall, broad-shouldered man in khaki
at the head of a swarthy crew of ebon warriors. The man's face
was set in hard, stern lines and the marks of sorrow were writ
deep about his mouth and eyes--so deep that the set expression
of rage upon his features could not obliterate them.
Korak saw the man pass beneath him where he hid in the great
tree that had harbored him before upon the edge of that fateful
little clearing. He saw him come and he set rigid and frozen and
suffering above him. He saw him search the ground with his
keen eyes, and he only sat there watching with eyes that glazed
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from the intensity of his gaze. He saw him sign to his men that
he had come upon that which he sought and he saw him pass
out of sight toward the north, and still Korak sat like a graven
image, with a heart that bled in dumb misery. An hour later
Korak moved slowly away, back into the jungle toward the west.
He went listlessly, with bent head and stooped shoulders, like
an old man who bore upon his back the weight of a great sorrow.
Baynes, following his black guide, battled his way through
the dense underbrush, riding stooped low over his horse's neck,
or often he dismounted where the low branches swept too close
to earth to permit him to remain in the saddle. The black was
taking him the shortest way, which was no way at all for a
horseman, and after the first day's march the young Englishman
was forced to abandon his mount, and follow his nimble guide
entirely on foot.
During the long hours of marching the Hon. Morison had
much time to devote to thought, and as he pictured the probable
fate of Meriem at the hands of the Swede his rage against the
man became the greater. But presently there came to him a
realization of the fact that his own base plans had led the girl
into this terrible predicament, and that even had she escaped
"Hanson" she would have found but little better deserts awaiting
her with him.
There came too, the realization that Meriem was infinitely
more precious to him than he had imagined. For the first time
he commenced to compare her with other women of his
acquaintance--
women of birth and position--and almost to his surprise--he
discovered that the young Arab girl suffered less than they by
the comparison. And then from hating "Hanson" he came to look
upon himself with hate and loathing--to see himself and his
perfidious act in all their contemptible hideousness.
Thus, in the crucible of shame amidst the white heat of naked
truths, the passion that the man had felt for the girl he had
considered his social inferior was transmuted into love. And as
he staggered on there burned within him beside his newborn
love another great passion--the passion of hate urging him on
to the consummation of revenge.
A creature of ease and luxury, he had never been subjected
to the hardships and tortures which now were his constant
companionship, yet, his clothing torn, his flesh scratched
and bleeding, he urged the black to greater speed, though with
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every dozen steps he himself fell from exhaustion.
It was revenge which kept him going--that and a feeling that
in his suffering he was partially expiating the great wrong he
had done the girl he loved--for hope of saving her from the fate
into which he had trapped her had never existed. "Too late!
Too late!" was the dismal accompaniment of thought to which
he marched. "Too late! Too late to save; but not too late
to avenge!" That kept him up.
Only when it became too dark to see would he permit of a halt.
A dozen times in the afternoon he had threatened the black
with instant death when the tired guide insisted upon resting.
The fellow was terrified. He could not understand the remarkable
change that had so suddenly come over the white man who had
been afraid in the dark the night before. He would have
deserted this terrifying master had he had the opportunity; but
Baynes guessed that some such thought might be in the other's
mind, and so gave the fellow none. He kept close to him by day
and slept touching him at night in the rude thorn boma they
constructed as a slight protection against prowling carnivora.
That the Hon. Morison could sleep at all in the midst of the
savage jungle was sufficient indication that he had changed
considerably in the past twenty-four hours, and that he could
lie close beside a none-too-fragrant black man spoke of
possibilities for democracy within him yet all undreamed of.
Morning found him stiff and lame and sore, but none the less
determined to push on in pursuit of "Hanson" as rapidly as possible.
With his rifle he brought down a buck at a ford in a small stream
shortly after they broke camp, breakfastless. Begrudgingly he
permitted a halt while they cooked and ate, and then on again
through the wilderness of trees and vines and underbrush.
And in the meantime Korak wandered slowly westward, coming
upon the trail of Tantor, the elephant, whom he overtook
browsing in the deep shade of the jungle. The ape-man, lonely
and sorrowing, was glad of the companionship of his huge friend.
Affectionately the sinuous trunk encircled him, and he was
swung to the mighty back where so often before he had lolled
and dreamed the long afternoon away.
Far to the north the Big Bwana and his black warriors clung
tenaciously to the trail of the fleeing safari that was
luring them further and further from the girl they sought to
save, while back at the bungalow the woman who had loved Meriem
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