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as though she had been her own waited impatiently and in sorrow
for the return of the rescuing party and the girl she was positive
her invincible lord and master would bring back with him.
Chapter 22
As Meriem struggled with Malbihn, her hands pinioned to her
sides by his brawny grip, hope died within her. She did not
utter a sound for she knew that there was none to come to her
assistance, and, too, the jungle training of her earlier life
had taught her the futility of appeals for succor in the savage
world of her up-bringing.
But as she fought to free herself one hand came in contact with
the butt of Malbihn's revolver where it rested in the holster at
his hip. Slowly he was dragging her toward the blankets, and
slowly her fingers encircled the coveted prize and drew it from
its resting place.
Then, as Malbihn stood at the edge of the disordered pile of
blankets, Meriem suddenly ceased to draw away from him, and
as quickly hurled her weight against him with the result that
he was thrown backward, his feet stumbled against the bedding
and he was hurled to his back. Instinctively his hands flew out
to save himself and at the same instant Meriem leveled the
revolver at his breast and pulled the trigger.
But the hammer fell futilely upon an empty shell, and Malbihn
was again upon his feet clutching at her. For a moment she
eluded him, and ran toward the entrance to the tent, but at the
very doorway his heavy hand fell upon her shoulder and dragged
her back. Wheeling upon him with the fury of a wounded lioness
Meriem grasped the long revolver by the barrel, swung it high
above her head and crashed it down full in Malbihn's face.
With an oath of pain and rage the man staggered backward,
releasing his hold upon her and then sank unconscious to
the ground. Without a backward look Meriem turned and fled
into the open. Several of the blacks saw her and tried to
intercept her flight, but the menace of the empty weapon kept
them at a distance. And so she won beyond the encircling
boma and disappeared into the jungle to the south.
Straight into the branches of a tree she went, true to the
arboreal instincts of the little mangani she had been, and
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here she stripped off her riding skirt, her shoes and her
stockings, for she knew that she had before her a journey and
a flight which would not brook the burden of these garments.
Her riding breeches and jacket would have to serve as protection
from cold and thorns, nor would they hamper her over much;
but a skirt and shoes were impossible among the trees.
She had not gone far before she commenced to realize how slight
were her chances for survival without means of defense or a
weapon to bring down meat. Why had she not thought to strip
the cartridge belt from Malbihn's waist before she had left
his tent! With cartridges for the revolver she might hope to
bag small game, and to protect herself from all but the most
ferocious of the enemies that would beset her way back to the
beloved hearthstone of Bwana and My Dear.
With the thought came determination to return and obtain
the coveted ammunition. She realized that she was taking
great chances of recapture; but without means of defense
and of obtaining meat she felt that she could never hope to
reach safety. And so she turned her face back toward the
camp from which she had but just escaped.
She thought Malbihn dead, so terrific a blow had she dealt him,
and she hoped to find an opportunity after dark to enter the
camp and search his tent for the cartridge belt; but scarcely
had she found a hiding place in a great tree at the edge of the
boma where she could watch without danger of being discovered,
when she saw the Swede emerge from his tent, wiping blood from
his face, and hurling a volley of oaths and questions at his
terrified followers.
Shortly after the entire camp set forth in search of her and
when Meriem was positive that all were gone she descended
from her hiding place and ran quickly across the clearing to
Malbihn's tent. A hasty survey of the interior revealed no
ammunition; but in one corner was a box in which were packed
the Swede's personal belongings that he had sent along by his
headman to this westerly camp.
Meriem seized the receptacle as the possible container of
extra ammunition. Quickly she loosed the cords that held the
canvas covering about the box, and a moment later had raised the
lid and was rummaging through the heterogeneous accumulation of
odds and ends within. There were letters and papers and cuttings
from old newspapers, and among other things the photograph of a
little girl upon the back of which was pasted a cutting from a
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Paris daily--a cutting that she could not read, yellowed and
dimmed by age and handling--but something about the photograph
of the little girl which was also reproduced in the newspaper
cutting held her attention. Where had she seen that picture before?
And then, quite suddenly, it came to her that this was a picture
of herself as she had been years and years before.
Where had it been taken? How had it come into the possession of
this man? Why had it been reproduced in a newspaper? What was
the story that the faded type told of it?
Meriem was baffled by the puzzle that her search for ammunition
had revealed. She stood gazing at the faded photograph for a
time and then bethought herself of the ammunition for which she
had come. Turning again to the box she rummaged to the bottom
and there in a corner she came upon a little box of cartridges.
A single glance assured her that they were intended for the weapon
she had thrust inside the band of her riding breeches, and slipping
them into her pocket she turned once more for an examination of the
baffling likeness of herself that she held in her hand.
As she stood thus in vain endeavor to fathom this inexplicable
mystery the sound of voices broke upon her ears. Instantly she
was all alert. They were coming closer! A second later she
recognized the lurid profanity of the Swede. Malbihn, her
persecutor, was returning! Meriem ran quickly to the opening of
the tent and looked out. It was too late! She was fairly cornered!
The white man and three of his black henchmen were coming straight
across the clearing toward the tent. What was she to do? She slipped
the photograph into her waist. Quickly she slipped a cartridge
into each of the chambers of the revolver. Then she backed toward
the end of the tent, keeping the entrance covered by her weapon.
The man stopped outside, and Meriem could hear Malbihn profanely
issuing instructions. He was a long time about it, and while he
talked in his bellowing, brutish voice, the girl sought some
avenue of escape. Stooping, she raised the bottom of the canvas
and looked beneath and beyond. There was no one in sight upon
that side. Throwing herself upon her stomach she wormed beneath
the tent wall just as Malbihn, with a final word to his men,
entered the tent.
Meriem heard him cross the floor, and then she rose and, stooping
low, ran to a native hut directly behind. Once inside this she
turned and glanced back. There was no one in sight. She had not
been seen. And now from Malbihn's tent she heard a great cursing.
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