was no sentry there, either! And now, boldly, he walked to the
entrance and stepped within.

Dimly the moonlight illumined the interior. Across the tent
a figure bent above the blankets of a bed. There was a whispered
word, and another figure rose from the blankets to a sitting position.
Slowly Albert Werper's eyes were becoming accustomed to the half
darkness of the tent. He saw that the figure leaning over the bed
was that of a man, and he guessed at the truth of the nocturnal
visitor's identity.

A sullen, jealous rage enveloped him. He took a step in the direction
of the two. He heard a frightened cry break from the girl's lips
as she recognized the features of the man above her, and he saw
Mohammed Beyd seize her by the throat and bear her back upon the
blankets.

Cheated passion cast a red blur before the eyes of the Belgian.
No! The man should not have her. She was for him and him alone.
He would not be robbed of his rights.

Quickly he ran across the tent and threw himself upon the back of
Mohammed Beyd. The latter, though surprised by this sudden and
unexpected attack, was not one to give up without a battle. The
Belgian's fingers were feeling for his throat, but the Arab tore
them away, and rising wheeled upon his adversary. As they faced
each other Werper struck the Arab a heavy blow in the face, sending
him staggering backward. If he had followed up his advantage he
would have had Mohammed Beyd at his mercy in another moment; but
instead he tugged at his revolver to draw it from its holster,