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Miss Caprice by St. George Rathborne
page 213 of 258 (82%)
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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