entranced by the same
cause. And so he easily maintained the reputation of being a most
democratic and likeable fellow, and indeed he was likable. Just a
shade of his egotism was occasionally apparent--never sufficient to
become a burden to his associates. And this, briefly, was the Hon.
Morison Baynes of luxurious European civilization. What would be the
Hon. Morison Baynes of central Africa it were difficult to guess.

Meriem, at first, was shy and reserved in the presence of the
strangers. Her benefactors had seen fit to ignore mention of her
strange past, and so she passed as their ward whose antecedents not
having been mentioned were not to be inquired into. The guests found
her sweet and unassuming, laughing, vivacious and a never exhausted
storehouse of quaint and interesting jungle lore.

She had ridden much during her year with Bwana and My Dear. She knew
each favorite clump of concealing reeds along the river that the
buffalo loved best. She knew a dozen places where lions laired, and
every drinking hole in the drier country twenty-five miles back from
the river. With unerring precision that was almost uncanny she could
track the largest or the smallest beast to his hiding place. But the
thing that baffled them all was her instant consciousness of the
presence of carnivora that others, exerting their faculties to the
utmost, could neither see nor hear.

The Hon. Morison Baynes found Meriem a most beautiful and charming
companion. He was delighted with her from the first. Particularly so,
it is possible, because he had not thought to find companionship of
this sort upon the African estate of his London friends. They were
together a great deal as they were the only unmarried couple in the
little company. Meriem, entirely unaccustomed to the companionship of
such as Baynes, was fascinated by him. His tales of the great, gay
cities with which he was familiar filled her with admiration and with
wonder. If the Hon. Morison always shone to advantage in these
narratives Meriem saw in that fact but a most natural consequence to
his presence upon the scene of his story--wherever Morison might be he
must be a hero; so thought the girl.

With the actual presence and companionship of the young Englishman the
image of Korak became less real. Where before it had been an actuality
to her she now realized that Korak was but a memory. To that memory
she still was loyal; but what weight has a memory in th