Miss Caprice by St. George Rathborne
page 213 of 258 (82%)
page 213 of 258 (82%)
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When this has been done, they see a spectacle that is more pleasing to
their eyes than any recently enacted--a scene made up of struggling Arabs and French zouaves, where the latter are five to one--where flashing bayonets meet the cruel yataghan, and the dark deeds of many past years are avenged by the brave soldiers of France. It is quickly over. Bab Azoun and his desperate followers expect no mercy, and the French give none. The few Arabs who are uninjured, make a determined assault in one quarter, and literally hew their way through, leaving half of their number on the field. Few indeed are they who escape, but the victory is shorn of its principal feature, when the fact is disclosed that the dread terror of the desert, the notorious rebel, Bab Azoun, is not among the slain. He was seen to fall, and yet they cannot find his body, search as they may. Not being mounted, the French soldiers are unable to give pursuit to the little band that hewed a way out. Besides, they have plenty to do attending to the wounded. Up to the now open door of the _marabout's_ tomb rushes a figure that has leaped from a horse. "_Mon Dieu!_ tell me, are you safe, ze ladies also?" gasps this party. It is Monsieur Constans. He has faithfully carried out his part of the |
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