heads. 'That is
the symbol of Christ. See how serene and peaceful it shines, like His
own teaching and the memory of His life. Now,' he added, turning his
outstretched hand to a dusky red star upon the horizon--the very one on
which we are gazing now--'that is my star, which tells of wrath, of war,
of a scourge upon sinners. And yet both are indeed stars, and each does
as Allah may ordain.'

"Well, that was the experience which was called to my mind by the sight
of this star to-night. Red and angry, it still broods over the south,
even as I saw it that night in the desert. Somewhere down yonder that
man is working and striving. He may be stabbed by some brother fanatic
or slain in a tribal skirmish. If so, that is the end. But if he lives,
there was that in his eyes and in his presence which tells me that
Mahomet the son of Abdallah--for that was his name--will testify in some
noteworthy fashion to the faith that is in him."

X

THE SILVER MIRROR

_Jan. 3._--This affair of White and Wotherspoon's accounts proves to be
a gigantic task. There are twenty thick ledgers to be examined and
checked. Who would be a junior partner? However, it is the first big bit
of business which has been left entirely in my hands. I must justify it.
But it has to be finished so that the lawyers may have the result in
time for the trial. Johnson said this morning that I should have to get
the last figure out before the twentieth of the month. Good Lord! Well,
have at it, and if human brain and nerve can stand the strain, I'll win
out at the other side. It means office-work from ten to five, and then a
second sitting from about eight to one in the morning. There's drama in
an accountant's life. When I find myself in the still early hours, while
all the world sleeps, hunting through column after column for those
missing figures which will turn a respected alderman into a felon, I
understand that it is not such a prosaic profession after all.

On Monday I came on the first trace of defalcation. No heavy game hunter
ever got a finer thrill when first he caught sight of the trail of his
quarry. But I look at the twenty ledgers and think of the jungle through
which I have to follow him before I get my kill. Hard work--but rare
sport, too, in a way! I saw the fat fellow once at a City dinner, his
red face glowing above a white napkin. He looked at the little pale man
at the end of the table. He would have been pale too if he could have