A few miles of brisk walking and he was at the lake. Looking around, and seeing no one, he sat down in a secluded spot, thinking of Sana and his plan to flood the Sahara. Time passed and Sana not yet coming into vision, he took his binoculars from their case and adjusting them, swept the surrounding country with his gaze. Looking over the waters of the lake, he noticed, not far from shore, a bather, enjoying a morning plunge. Focusing his glasses, he saw it was Sana, swimming, unhampered by even a bathing suit, in the blue-green water. Not wishing to spy on her he put down his glasses, to while away the time with his pipe, until she should have finished with her swim and had resumed her attire. After a time he again swung his glasses in the direction in which he had last seen her. She was no longer in the water. Leveling his binoculars on the shore, he scrutinized the scene closely. Ah! There she was. She was sitting on a stone behind some shrubbery, with only her legs to be seen below the foliage. She had evidently been out of the water for some time for he noticed that she was dressed. As he watched he saw a large butterfly alight on her left knee, moving undisturbed toward the top of her stocking. Sana was perhaps putting a finishing touch to her hair, for her hands were not to be seen. At any rate the butterfly resumed his progress without fear. That was all Carl could see and he studied the scene for a while as he would have meditated on a work of art. Surely the gods had given her beauty. [Illustration: That was all Carl could see and he studied the scene for a while as he would have meditated on a work of art. Surely the gods had given her beauty.] Putting his glasses aside, he fell into a reverie. Full well did he realize that Sana was a woman of exceptional beauty and passion, whose enchantments could enslave and humiliate the proudest and crush the mightiest. Was she aware of it? He did not know. But if she was, why did she bury herself here in the burning sands? She had a knowledge of love and life, and Carl was certain she was anything but lukewarm. He gave her the benefit of the doubt, making up his mind at the same time that he would do his best to induce her to marry him and go to New York with him. How his friends would envy him, especially after he had remained a bachelor for so long a time. During the long years many a woman had tried to weave about him the net of love. There had been a time when he was legitimate prey to all kinds of cheats and vamps, but his experiences with them had taught him the cold calculating ways of the “gold digger” and he had resolved never again to play “Santa Claus.”