ast farewell kiss.

PLUCK, PERIL & ADVENTURE.

MARJORIE MAY: A WILFUL YOUNG WOMAN.

BY EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.

"How perfectly delightful! Just fancy riding along those lovely sands,
and seeing real live Bedouins on their horses or camels! I declare I see
camels padding along now! I wish it wouldn't get dark so fast. But the
city will look lovely when the moon is up."

"Is it quite safe?" asked a lady passenger, eager for the proposed
excursion, but a little timid in such strange surroundings. For Mogador
seemed like the ends of the earth to her. She had never been for a sea
voyage before.

"Oh, yes; safe enough, or Captain Taylor would never have arranged it.
Of course, it might not be safe to go quite alone; but a party
together--why, it's as safe as Regent Street."

"What is this excursion they are all talking about?" asked Marjorie May,
who had been standing apart in the bow of the boat, trying to dash in
the effect of the sunset lights upon the solemn, lonely African
mountains, with the white city sleeping on the edge of the sea,
surrounded by its stretch of desert. It was too dark for further
sketching, and the first bell had sounded for dinner. She joined the
group of passengers, eagerly discussing the proposed jaunt for the
morrow. Several voices answered her.

"Oh, the captain is going to arrange a sort of picnic for us to-morrow.
We have all day in harbour, you know, and part of the next. So to-morrow
we are to go ashore and take donkeys, and ride out along the shore there
for several miles, to some queer place or other, where they will arrange
lunch for us; and we can wander about and see the place, and get back on
board in time for dinner; and next day we can see the town. That only
takes an hour or so. We leave after lunch, but it will give plenty of
time."

"I think the town sounds more interesting than the donkey-rides," said
Marjorie. "I had not time to sketch in Tangiers, except just a few
figures dashed off anyhow. I must make some studies of the Arabs and
Nubians and Bedouins here. I shan't get another chance. This is the last
African port we stop at."

"Oh, I daresay you'll have plenty of time for sketching," answered her
cabin companion to whom she had spoken; "but I wouldn't miss the ride if
I were you. It'll be quite a unique experience."

The dinner-bell rang, and the company on board the _Oratava_ took their
seats in the pleasant upper deck saloon, where there was fresh