her memory
had ever accorded her the love and gentleness that was his daily
offering to her. Most of the gentler attributes of his early childhood
had long since been forgotten in the fierce battle for existence which
the customs of the mysterious jungle had forced upon him. He was more
often savage and bloodthirsty than tender and kindly. His other
friends of the wild looked for no gentle tokens of his affection. That
he would hunt with them and fight for them was sufficient. If he
growled and showed his fighting fangs when they trespassed upon his
inalienable rights to the fruits of his kills they felt no anger toward
him--only greater respect for the efficient and the fit--for him who
could not only kill but protect the flesh of his kill.

But toward Meriem he always had shown more of his human side. He
killed primarily for her. It was to the feet of Meriem that he brought
the fruits of his labors. It was for Meriem more than for himself that
he squatted beside his flesh and growled ominously at whosoever dared
sniff too closely to it. When he was cold in the dark days of rain, or
thirsty in a prolonged drouth, his discomfort engendered first of all
thoughts of Meriem's welfare--after she had been made warm, after her
thirst had been slaked, then he turned to the affair of ministering to
his own wants.

The softest skins fell gracefully from the graceful shoulders of his
Meriem. The sweetest-scented grasses lined her bower where other soft,
furry pelts made hers the downiest couch in all the jungle.

What wonder then that Meriem loved her Korak? But she loved him as a
little sister might love a big brother who was very good to her. As
yet she knew naught of the love of a maid for a man.

So now as she lay waiting for him she dreamed of him and of all that he
meant to her. She compared him with The Sheik, her father, and at
thought of the stern, grizzled, old Arab she shuddered. Even the
savage blacks had been less harsh to her than he. Not understanding
their tongue she could not guess what purpose they had in keeping her a
prisoner. She knew that man ate man, and she had expected to be eaten;
but she had been with them for some time now and no harm had befallen
her. She did not know that a runner had been dispatched to the distant
village of The Sheik to barter with him for a ransom. She did not
know, nor did Kovudoo, that the runner had never reached his
destination--that he had fallen in with