wn as this passing of the night, or liberty as this hour
of freedom in the wastes of sand.

And then, when perhaps ten, perhaps more or less, miles out, she pulled
the stallion sharply and sat forward, staring, whilst her heart
thrilled in a most unwarrantable manner beneath her coat.

Upon a hummock of sand, with tattered robes of saffron, purple and of
gold about his feet, there sat a youth.

Sideways he sat, with tips of slender feet to ground as though
preparatory to flight. One fine brown hand pushed back a misty veil
before the face, which shone wanly in the half-light. A strange,
dreamy, cruel face, with crimson laughing mouth, hawk-nose, pointed
chin, and eyes of grey-blue-green: eyes in which the pupils never close
and which under the shadow of the coarse black hair a-grit with sand
shone like twin pools of loneliness hidden in the rocks of Time. The
other hand, outstretched, palm uppermost, held between the curling
beckoning fingers tatters of the veil which, blown by the wind, twined
about the slender limbs and outlined the ribbed ridges of the body thin
to gauntness.

And even as she looked, the hummock showed empty, whilst, half-turned,
upon tips of slender feet, with beckoning hand, he stood a mile off,
perchance more, this youth of crimson, laughing mouth and haunting eyes.

One with the silver-grey and purple of the night, one with the gold and
crimson of the coming day, he drew her, whilst the breeze laughed over
her head and, soughed faintly in her ears, so that she strove to ride
him down, only to find that he was not there; and urged the great beast
further still and at his greatest speed, to see the figure ever out of
reach, with beckoning hand; and little mocking laugh.

And then, with hoofs clattering in the shining bones of some long-dead
fugitive who had failed to reach the oasis, the stallion reared and
wheeled, and, caring naught for the hand upon the reins and with the
bit between his teeth, raced back upon his tracks, leaving the Spirit
of the Desert wrapped to the eyes in tattered misty veil.

Take heed!

So matter at what hour of the day you meet him; be it at the hour of
noon, when the scorpion basks blissfully in the scorching sun; be it at
night, when the white fingers of the moon essay to close your eyes in
the sleep that perchance may have no waking; or at dawn, when heart or
soul, or whatever it be, is like unto running water in its strength,
beware of that gaunt figure w