d up to his present position. Then it was
that he realized that he was floating down a great African river in a
native canoe--alone, wounded, and lost.

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

From his own troubles his mind turned to Meriem's. That she had been
with the Swede at the time he had attempted to reach the fellow's camp
he naturally believed; but he wondered what would become of her now.
Even if Hanson died of his wounds would Meriem be any better off? She
was in the power of equally villainous men--brutal savages of the
lowest order. Baynes buried his face in his hands and rocked back and
forth as the hideous picture of her fate burned itself into his
consciousness. And it was he who had brought this fate upon her! His
wicked desire had snatched a pure and innocent girl from the protection
of those who loved her to hurl her into the clutches of the bestial
Swede and his outcast following! And not until it had become too late
had he realized the magnitude of the crime he himself had planned and
contemplated. Not until it had become too late had he realized that
greater than his desire, greater than his lust, greater than any
passion he had ever felt before was the newborn love that burned within
his breast for the girl he would have ruined.

The Hon. Morison Baynes did not fully realize the change that had taken
place within him. Had one suggested that he ever had been aught than
the soul of honor and chivalry he would have taken umbrage forthwith.
He knew that he had done a vile thing when he had plotted to carry
Meriem away to London, yet he excused it on the ground of his great
passion for the girl having temporarily warped his moral standards by
the intensity of 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
intensity of a desire. His moral fiber had been strengthened by the
mental suffering he had endured. His mind and his soul had been purged
by sorrow and remorse.

His one thought now was to atone--win to Meriem's side and lay down his
life, if necessary,