but at the flash of the explosion he
stopped. His revolver dropped from nerveless fingers. For a moment he
staggered drunkenly. Deliberately Malbihn put two more bullets into
his friend's body at close range. Even in the midst of the excitement
and her terror Meriem found herself wondering at the tenacity of life
which the hit man displayed. His eyes were closed, his head dropped
forward upon his breast, his hands hung limply before him. Yet still
he stood there upon his feet, though he reeled horribly. It was not
until the third bullet had found its mark within his body that he
lunged forward upon his face. Then Malbihn approached him, and with an
oath kicked him viciously. Then he returned once more to Meriem.
Again he seized her, and at the same instant the flaps of the tent
opened silently and a tall white man stood in the aperture. Neither
Meriem or Malbihn saw the newcomer. The latter's back was toward him
while his body hid the stranger from Meriem's eyes.

He crossed the tent quickly, stepping over Jenssen's body. The first
intimation Malbihn had that he was not to carry out his design without
further interruption was a heavy hand upon his shoulder. He wheeled to
face an utter stranger--a tall, black-haired, gray-eyed stranger clad
in khaki and pith helmet. Malbihn reached for his gun again, but
another hand had been quicker than his and he saw the weapon tossed to
the ground at the side of the tent--out of reach.

"What is the meaning of this?" the stranger addressed his question to
Meriem in a tongue she did not understand. She shook her head and
spoke in Arabic. Instantly the man changed his question to that
language.

"These men are taking me away from Korak," explained the girl. "This
one would have harmed me. The other, whom he had just killed, tried to
stop him. They were both very bad men; but this one is the worse. If
my Korak were here he would kill him. I suppose you are like them, so
you will not kill him."

The stranger smiled. "He deserves killing?" he said. "There is no
doubt of that. Once I should have killed him; but not now. I will
see, though, that he does not bother you any more."

He was holding Malbihn in a grasp the giant Swede could not break,
though he struggled to do so, and he was holding him as easily as
Malbihn might have held a little child, yet Malbihn was a huge man,
mightily thewed. The Swede began to rage and curse. He struck at his
captor, only