They had not gone far, when, with a great crashing of branches, a madly
galloping horse plunged past them.
“Good God!” Carl gasped as he recognized Sana’s white Arab. As the
horse careened by, the watchers saw hanging from his torn and bleeding
neck, a black panther.
Again the screams resounded through the jungle depths.
Throwing all caution to the winds Carl plunged ahead. Entangling vines,
scratching thorns and bruising branches strove to hinder him. But he
was unmindful of all these. Nothing mattered! He must get to Sana, it
was she who had torn the silence with her cries.
[Illustration: Calling to von Sarnoff, “Take care of the beast!” Carl
sprang to Sana’s side and freed her from her bonds.]
Von Sarnoff hurried after him, but Carl was first to reach a little
clearing in the jungle. A wild cry escaped his lips as he beheld the
strange sight before him.
Sana was tied hand and foot to a tree. At her feet lay a heap of twigs.
Had de Rochelle dared dream of torture? The question came to Carl, as
with clenched fists, he turned to look for de Rochelle. He must answer
for that outrage.
But de Rochelle was beyond answering for the misdeeds of his life. At
the opposite edge of the clearing lay what was once a man. Tearing
savagely at the body, stood the mate of the panther that had attacked
the horse. Sensing danger, the beast raised its head to glare at Carl,
its tail swishing angrily.
Calling to von Sarnoff “Take care of that beast!” Carl sprang to Sana’s
side and freed her from her bonds. She had fainted on seeing him at
the edge of the clearing, and he picked her up tenderly, whispering,
softly, “All is well, beloved.”
Meanwhile von Sarnoff with a well directed shot had laid the panther
low.
Holding his sweetheart in his arms, Carl saw the dismal jungle
brightened with the rays of the setting sun, as Sana recovered
consciousness and with a cry of joy embraced him, realizing that she
was safe at last.
The world may be but a Fata Morgana and life an illusion to those who
keep not the faith, but to those who tend the fires of truth, the rays
of the setting sun shall be messengers of Peace.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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