The RedMirage
A Story of the French Legion
in Algiers
By I. A. R.WYLIE
(All right! reserved. Th
8YNOP8I3.
. 6
"When Sylvia Omney, a beautiful Enst
llsh girl, returns from a search in Algiers
for her missing brother, her lover, Men
ard Farquhar, finds she has fallen In love
with Captain Arnaud of the Foreign
Leftion. In Captain Sower's room l'ar
quhar gets deliberately drunk, but when
young Preston loses all hla money to
Lowe, a shady character, Farquhar forces
Sower to have Preston's I. O. U's re
turned to him. Farquhar Is helped to his
rooms by Oabrlelle Smith. Sower demands
an apology, Refused, lie forces Farquhar
to resign his commission in return for
possession of Farquhar's father's writ
ten confession that he had murdered Sow
er's father. Gabrlelle saves Farquhar
from suicide. Farquhar tells his mother
that he Is going to find his father if the
latter Is alive. To shield Arnaud, Sylvia's
fiance, he professes to have stolen war
Slans and tells the real culprit why he
id so. As Richard Nameless he Joins the
Foreign Legion and sees Sylvia, now
Mme. Arnaud, meet Colonel Destinn.
Farquhar meets Sylvia and Gabrlelle, and
learns from Corporal Goets of the col
onel's cruelty. Arnaud becomes a drunk
ard and opium smoker. Sylvia becomes
friendly with Colonel Destinn. Arnaud
becomes Jealous of Farquhar.
Why should Richard Name
less refrain from telling Sylvia
the blunt truth about his great
honor sacrifice for her sake?
She Is a shallow woman who
ruthlessly threw him over for
another. Do such women de
serve the fine consideration the
world owes Its best women?
CHAPTER VI Continued.
Richard Nameless turned back to the
desert The Arabs bad risen and an
elder was praying aloud, his aged,
tremulous voice leading the richer uni
son of the worshipers behind him.
"With my face to Mecca and with a
sincere heart I offer my prayers to
Allah"
Mirage! For those dark-faced desert
children Mecca opened the gates of
Paradise; for this dream of unknown
happiness they waited and prayed, and
when their time came passed through
the great shadow with fearless, trium
phant confidence.
He went back to his work. With
fierce, dogged energy he pulled away
the deep-rooted weeds and brought a
pathetic look of care and order Into his
corner of the wilderness. For a mo
ment he lingered over the grave which
Goetz had tended. The bald yet elo
quent Inscription ; touched him. He
wondered vaguely who Philip Grey
bad been; If he, too, had paid a price
and In the last hours of horror had still
been satisfied.
Two women had entered the ceme
tery. Their white-clad figures flashed
gayly in between the dark graves, and
a clear, silvery laugh mingled with the
final Arab prayer
"La Haha ilia 'llahu!"
The younger woman stopped on ln
tant and pointed with the tip of her
parasol at the broken remnant of a
cross.
"Look at these beads! Aren't they
ridiculous? And the inscription just
a number, like a convict's." She
glanced back over her shoulder at her
companion. "Miss Smith, I believe you
are frightened. Do you think there are
ghosts here? Well, perhaps there are,
but I don't mind."
As yet the man standing Immobile,
bidden amid the forest of crosses, had
escaped her notice. But he had heard
her now, and, shadowy and ghostlike
nough in the dying light, awaited her
approach. At the foot of the English
man's grave she hesitated. The Inscrip
tion attracted her. With puckered
brows she spelled out the badly cut
letters, her soft voice touched with
Just the faintest ironical Interest
"Philip Grey No. 3112 Foreign Le
lon." Then she looked up involuntarily and
saw the man who watched her, his
band gripping the head of the cross.
It was very quiet now. The Arab
prayer was silenced, and the white
figures of the worshipers had vanished
in the long olive grove leading back
to Sldi-bel-Abbes. Sylvia Arnaud's
voice, when she spoke at last sounded
strained and harsh In the absolute
quiet
"Richard!" and then again, "Richard
Farquhar!"
He shook his head. "Not Richard
Farquhar now," he answered. "Rich
ard Nameless."
She seemed not to understand. Her
Hps were a little parted in the ex
pression that he remembered. She
looked plteously frightened and incred
ulous. "I am sorry to have frightened you,"
he said gently. "I did not mean that
70a should ever see me but you came
so suddenly, and out in this desolate
place you were the last person I ex
pected. Forgive me."
'Tes yes, it Is a desolate place it
makes me frightened. But I was told
it was something I ought to see and
few minutes ago I wasn't frightened
t all. Now I see ghosts every
where." . "I am one of them." he said.
She brushed her hand over her fore
bead as though Indeed trying to dispel
some terrifying specter. Her feeble
effort to regain ber previous laughing
courage failed. She was white and
trembling.
Bobbi-Merrill Co.)
"I am No. 4005 of the Foreign Le
gion," be Bald. "Is there anything
else that you need understand?"
"Yes I must. I feel as though one
of us two were mad. The Foreign Le
gion Is Just the last resort for all the
riffraff of the world criminals, gam
blers, cheats "
"I am one of them."
She was silent a moment, looking at
him with large, thoughtful eyes, out of
which the fear had paHscd. When she
spoke again her voice was full of a
smothered tenderness.
"I have thought of you so much late
ly, Richard. I couldn't understand
why It was. You haunted me. It
was as though something In the place
made me think of you. I remembered
all your little movements, the way you
looked. I seemed to see you in others.
I grew almost how shall I say?
homesick for you."
"You should have forgotten," he In.
terrupted roughly. "I hnve gone out
of your life. Look upon me now as
what I am now a mere shadow."
"Richard, what have you done?"
The tenderness had deepened. He
clenched his hands In a movement of
uncontrollable pain.
"Hasn't your husband told you?"
"No. We never mention your name.
To me it is sacred."
"For God's sake, Sylvia" He
straightened up, his black brows mark
ing a straight line across his face. "I
was turned out of the army for be
traying my country's secrets."
"You a traitor! Why?"
The monosyllable was like the stab
of a knife In the silence.
"For a woman."
She drew back. Her eyes were dark
pools in which he saw no expression.
"What woman?"
He bowed gravely.
"Madame Arnaud, I have still honor
enough left to remember the discre
tion imposed upon honorable men." '
She turned away from him. He
could see nothing but her profile, the
"You a Traitor! Why?"
exquisite, almost flawless profile, cut
against a background of mingling gold
and emerald. Her hands rested crossed
on the handle of ber parasol. She had
grown suddenly very calm and delib
erate. I told you that I had thought of
you, Richard," she said quietly. "I did
not tell you how I thought of you. Do
you remember our last meeting, or has
that ben eclipsed by other more lovely
memories?"
"Silvia, be silent! I dare not listen
to you. You don't know what you
are saying "
"I know what I am saying, and yon
must listen. When a man destroys
something, it Is no more than Just that
be should see what be has done. You
have destroyed something an Ideal, a
dream, my faith In honesty and good
ness. You were the one man I be
lieved and trusted. And now you are
like the rest nothing nothing." She
turned away. "I wish to God I had
not met you, Richard."
He did not attempt to detain her.
He stood there like a man struck to
death by a treacherous blow, and she
went on down the path to the gate
where her companion waited for her.
There she paused for a moment
"I want you to go back to that
man," she said carelessly. "He is an
old acquaintance who went wrong, and
It might be rather unpleasant for my
husband if be grew Importunate. Tell
bin that oa no account must be speak
to me again. It Is very regrettable,
but mistakes of that sort bring their
own punishment You understand,
Miss Smith?"
"Yes, Madame Arnaud."
"Thank you. I will wait for you
outside the public cemetery. It is get
ting dark"
Miss Smith went slowly back along
the narrow gravel path. The man had
not moved. He was gazing out on to I
the fiery waste now dying beneath the
extinguishing ninntlo of the night, and
neither heard nor saw. She touched
li 1 111 on the arm.
"Mr. Farquhar!"
lie turned slowly and stared at ber.
Though he recognized her, his face was
blank and bard and terrible,
"Miss Smith?"
"Yes, Gabrlelle Smith. You see,
after all.we have met again. Won't
you shake bands?"
Ills eyes wandered past her down
the path.
"No. You ought not to be speaking,
to mo. A respectuble woman does not
speak to a common soldier of the
Legion.
"Doesn't she? How Interesting!
One Is always learning In this wonder
ful civilization of ours. Only as It
happens I am not respectable. I told
you that once before."
Her cool irony brought a flash of
lnsune laughter to his eyes.
"Who the devil are you, then?" he
asked savagely.
"Dear me, you have quite lost your
nice English indifference, Mr. Far
quhar. I'm not sure it Isn't an im
provement. Who I am? Well, you
know my name, and at the present mo
ment I am companion to Madame Ar
naud helping her to forget that she
Isn't English any more. English peo
ple think it's wrong to admire for
eigners. It's their idea of patriotism.
Madame Arnaud assures me she must
have a bit of dear old England about
her, and I am the bit. That's all."
"Why did you come?"
He was looking at her again.
Through the dusk she saw the white,
tortured suspense on the hard face.
She wore a rose in the severe corsage
of ber dress. She took It and banded
It to him.
"She sent you this In token of re
membrance."
He took her band and kissed it.
"You bave come like an angel Into
my life," he said.
He watched ber nntll her small, en
ergetic figure had disappeared among
the shadows.
In the distance a bugle called a mel
ancholy retreat.
He lifted the rose reverently to his
lips.
CHAPTER VII.
A Meeting.
In SIdl-bel-Abbes there is a pleasant
avenue, shaded by silver birch and red
olent of all the sweet perfumes of the
East where the local potentates gather
In a select exclusive circle. In the
courtyard of one such of these houses
Colonel Destinn sat and smoked an
after-tea cigarette. His kepi lay on
the broad balustrade beside him, and
his head was thrown back in an atti
tude of easy contentment.
"You pour out tea charmingly,
mauarne, ne said. A second cup
would stifle the last regret that I
should have gone so far against my
principles as to drink a first."
She looked up at him. The soft re
flection from the low, white walls
around them enhanced her ethereal
beauty and added the subtle glamour
with which the eastern light surrounds
the least and most lovely object. Very
delicately she obeyed his request, the
soft, rich lace sleeve of her teagown
slipping back to reveal the rounded
arm and slender over-fragile wrist.
"Do your principles compel you to
live only for your soldiers?" she asked
lightly.
He laughed.
"'Living for them is perhaps too
much of a euphemism," he said. "They
would be more grateful If I did the
other thing. But otherwise it is true
I haVe not put my foot under a bos.
pitable roof for twenty years."
"Had you no one who" She hesl-
tated, a sudden color in her cheeks,
and be leaned forward, his hands
loosely interlocked between his knees,
his handsome, ruthless face grave and
Intent.
"No, I hadn't anyone, Madame Ar
naud."
Her gaze faltered under his steady,
piercing eyes.
"What is your country, Colonel De
stlnn?" '
"I do not know, madame. I have
forgotten." There was a little silence,
in which the fountain played a silvery
intermezzo, and then be went on in
an altered tone: "You are the first per
son who has made wish to remember,
She was looking up at him again
with a studied frankness, behind which
there lurked something hypnotized, fas
clnated.
He turned carelessly from her.
"Ah, Arnaud, you there? You see,
I have been breaking up the principles
of years to entertain your wife. If
you leave her too much alone you will
find these English roses fade very
quickly in this dreary place. Man,
don't look as If you bad seen the
devil."
The young officer, hesitating on the
edge of the low veranda, recovered
himself with an effort.
"My colonel I was taken aback. I
had not expected but I am delighted
and most honored. I beg of you to let
me enjoy the pleasure "
"No, no, Arnaud. We see enough of
each other elsewhere, and, moreover,
I have a pressing engagement with
three deserters from the Eleventh com
pany. Au revolr, madame and thank
you!"
f
!
How soon do you think that
Sylvia's flirting with Colonel
Destinn will cause Tragedy to
stalk abroad In the Foreign Le
gion. It seems plain that Mme.
Arnaud knows she Is playing
with fire.
t
(TO BE CONTIIfUJED.)
msMi . 1 1
Uaasaagaasc
"ftliaTifii
Indian Curr
AMONG all the historic spots in
the Southwest none is quite so
thrilling and entrancing as that
along the old Santa Fe trail.
Among those towering granite hills,
burled In the silence of the Rockies,
are to be found the ruins of Spanish
palaces spacious and stately in their
day. Here lie the bones of daring
ecoute like Kit Carson. Here lingering
tribes cling to pueblos and till the fer
tile valleys In the most primitive
fashion. Here live the cliff-dwellers
a remnant, still wandering through
rough-hewn granite halls deserted by
their fathers In the long ago.
Pages might be filled with the
stories of the pioneers and frontiers
men of the mighty Southwest. No
more picturesque character ever trav
ersed this wilderness than Augustlnl
ani the Hermit of Old Baldy.
John Mary Augustinlanl was a her
mit because of pious inclination. A
nobleman by birth the product of
Italian aristocracy he was born of
the nobility in SIzzarlo, Lombardy,
Italy, in 1801. Under the impulse of
religious zeal, he turned his back upon
all the wealth and luxury of his Ital
ian home, only to become a wanderer
in strange and distant lands. Of this
there is a legend, common in some
fashion to the beginning of every re
former's life. One day he was strolling
In the garden of the estate. Suddenly
he saw an apparition the finger of the
Virgin pointing toward regions far
away. He must therefore lead a soli
tary life in life far from his native
home. No cave-dweller in the Orient
ever more certainly followed the path
of destiny.
After three years of earnest medita
tion, and at the age of twenty, with
only staff in hand, he sot out on foot to
Rome. Seven long years he dwelt in
the caves of Italy, and for five more
years he wandered on foot all over Eu-
rope. About this time his thought
turned toward a new continent, and he
landed on the shores of Venezuela,
Here, still afoot, he traversed the Bra
zilian, Chilean and Argentine coun
tries. He then sought out his abode
near the dangerous Orizaba volcano in
Old Mexico. In all these wanderings
he became famous as a doctor and a
priest among the wildest Indian tribes
Banished to Cuba.
While doing his priestly work
around the city of Orizaba, he was ar
rested by the civil authorities. A
charge was trumped up against him
and conviction followed. He was ban
ished to the Island of Cuba. From
these shores he set sail for New York,
He reached St. Louis in the opening of
the sixties. These were the opening
days when the intrepid pioneer blazed
out the Santa Fe trail. Augustinlanl
began to dream of priesthood among
the Indians in the diBtant West,
He walked to Kansas City and on to
Westport. By invitation of Gonzales,
a wagon-traln king of the historic trail,
he found his way to Las Vegas, N. M.
On reaching Las Vegas, he found a
cave-home in Kearney's Gap, west of
town. The people thought him super
human, but their coming broke the
quietude he so much longed for. With
only his bag of meal, his books and his
staff, he began his long Journey toward
the Owl mountains. There is a well-
worn path on the very summit of Old
Baldy about which there gathers a le
gend of the hermit priest. From
breast to breaBt the story has passed
land to this day they say this is the
path of the pious patriarch as he
walked to and fro in his devout medi
tations. Amidst the snows of this im
mense altitude Augustlnlana lived in
pious solitude until the last tragic hour
of his life In the summer of 1867.
About the base of this famous peak
lay the trading station of the Santa Fe
trail. Old Baldy overlooked the vast
outstretching leagues of the Baublen-
Maxwell land grant, equal to three
states the size of Rhode Island. In the
very shadow of these heights, piled In
such wondrous beauty, stood the Max
well place, where frontiersmen like
Kit Carson, Dick Wootton, Don Jesus
Abreau, Colonel St. Vraln and ex-Gov
ernor Boggs made their rendezvous for
years. Amidst Old Baldy's fastnesses
were the famous hiding places of such
desperate outlaws as Grlego, Poncha,
Clay Allison, Chunk, Coal Oil Jimmy
"Long" Taylor, and scores of other
bandits equally wild and fierce. Thus
was Augustinlanl environed by a mot
ley and reckless citizenship.
8tory of the Hermit.
Near the summit of Old Baldy there
Is a perennial spring whose cold and
voarkllng waters leap from beneath
DwlllinG5
Its very crown. About these gushing
mountain waters there lingers the
story of the hermit. It is said that
when be first reached the summit,
searching for a cave in which to live,
he was almost famished on account of
thirst. With his staff he smote a rock
and from It sprang this beautiful
stream that has not ceased to flow
since that day.
Though many thousands of feet
above the valley, numbers sought his
cave. Augustinlanl erected fourteen
huge crosses, the ruins of which still
stand as silent monuments of his de
votion and zeal. From among hia curi
ous and devout visitors he formed a
society called the Brotherhood of the
Holy Cross. His only exaction was a
pilgrimage In May and September.
They must ascend the peak and say
prayer around these crosses.
In the May pilgrimage of 1867, he
made a farewell speech that crushed
the heartB of his followers. It was
then he revealed to them the hand ol
destiny in hlB call to the land of Old
Mexico. Before his departure he vis
ited Father Baca of Las Cruces, who
presented him with gold for his long
journey. He sought meditation for
the night in the Oregon mountains.
Taking his farewell of Father Baca, he
said:
"Tonight I will be In my cave and
will build my last fire on the peak to
toll you good-by. I will pray the rosary
and I want you to do likewise with
your people on the roofs of your
houses. If you do not see the fire you
may know that I am dead and ma;
come tomorrow and get my books and
property."
No fire was kindled on the peak thai
night. The next day a company as
cended the heights. Amid the verj
clouds they found the body of the good
old hermit, stricken through with
many an arrow flung from the bows ol
the bloody Navajos.
APPLAUSE OF VARIOUS KINDS
Always Easy to Distinguish the Gen
ulne From the Perfunctory or
the Manufactured.
With nearly every successful ad
dress applause plays a leading part
There are several varieties of ap
plause. The common variety Is tht
perfunctory handclap a poor, weak
contribution which makes a butterfly
look long-lived In comparison. A sec
ond variety Is the charity offering oi
an audience to the oratorial beggar.
The speaker ends a profound decla
ration with a pause which is next dooi
to an open declaration of war If the
audience doesn't come acrosB. Or h
works himBelf up in a series of men
tal paroxysms which impels the audi
tors to rush to his rescue before it le
too late. All spellbinders pocket this
variety of applause as real coin. Ol
course it Is nothing of the kind.
The genuine Issue in laudation is a
spontaneous and volcanic eruption ol
approval and delight. It blows out
violently from the subterranean fires
of folk, and when it has reached its
climax there comes, suddenly and
gorgeously from the mldBt of it second
and more terrific explosion, and a!
this is reaching Its highest point a
third and seismic spasm rockets up
through bedlam and overwhelms every
thing and everybody. This Is the real
thing.- It canuot be made to ordei
and it cannot be counterfeited. Th
prearranged outbursts at national po
litical conventions following the nomi
nations are pitiable attempts to manu
facture It. Claques and coteries of de
votees try occasionally to produce It
mechanically. They never do success
fully. Victor Murdock In Collier's
Weekly.
Followed Instructions.
Now, said the lawyer to a rag
picker who had been arrested for steal
ing some fruit of a vender, "they have
a sure case on you, and we must play
safe. Have you any money?"
"Ten dollars, bosB."
"That's good. I will get you out ol
this. To every question, mind, every
one, they ask you, simply answer
'Spoons.' "
The, pilferer complied perfectly, and
as a result the Judge angrily ordered
the supposed fool released. Of course
the lawyer eagerly followed him from
the courtroom.
"My man, you played It fine. But
for my smartness you'd be In the
works. Where's that ten dollars V
"Spoons," said the thief, and hur
ried away. R. H. Martin, Ohio.
All Sorts of Contrivances to Stop
Soldiers.
Simple Barbed Wire Is Not Considered
Sufficient for the Purpose Some
of the Mare Modern
Methods.
The chevaux-defriso is sometimes
known as the "knife-rest," and con
sists simply ct a long pole, resting at
each end on two pieces of wood con
structed In the form of a St. Andrew's
cross. To this framework the wire is
attached, and the chevaux-de-friBe Is
then thrown ovor the parapet by two
men. When the garrison of the
trench have not the necessary frame
work, the wire is distributed In loose
rolls in front of the position, forming
rough cylinders three or four feet in
diameter and eight to twelve feet in
length. Used even in this impromptu
way barbed wire has proved Itself to
be-of the greatest assistance to a de
fending party.
The erection of wire entanglements,
even when the trenches are some dis-
Chevaux-de-frlse.
tance apart, Is at all times dangerous
(300 yards is thought a considerable
distance in the western front I have .
been In firing trenches only 60 yards
from the Germans). The men slip
over the parapet and in the first case
knock in the supports with mallets,
Russian Trip.
having previously carefully wrapped
cloth round the beads of the latter so
that the sound may be deadened. Two
other men carry the wire drum a
wooden cylinder around which the
wire is rolled with a long pole
through the center for carrying pur
poses, while a comrade attaches the
wire to its supports.' The work Is
Blow and nerve-straining, as Btar-shells
burst often and oblige the men to
Drum on Which Barbed Wire Is Car
ried. crouch low, romaluing motionless un
til the flare burns out.
To each soldier who takes part in
modern warfare thick gloves for grip
ping wire and strong pliers for cutting
It are as essential as the rifle and
bayonet. Before an assault by his own
regiment the soldier cutB his own wire,
and he must then endeavor as best he
may to cut and hack his way through
Loose Rolls.
the enemy's, pulling down a support
here, cutting the wires while the machine-gun
batteries rap out their mes
sage of death towards him. Thus
barbed wire, so simple in itself, so
deadly when used lit the various ways
I have described, enters into every
phase of operations in the firing zone.
London Exchange.
Only Hero Husbands for Breton Girls,
The young girls in Brittany have
formed themselves Into an association
which forbids its members marrying
any young man who has not taken his
part in the war.
This does not only refer to the de
serters and those who fled their duty,
but to the "Blackers" who found the
means, through influence or lying;
without reason of ill health or for oth
er Just cause, to keep safe In the rear
and leave their comrades to do the
fighting.
The rallying cry of these patriotic
young Breton girls is: "Better a crip
ple than a slacker!"
One member of the association ex
pressed thus her thought: "I would
rather love a man who had no arm
than one who had no heart."
Rather Dull.
"Any activity in real estate about
here?" asked the tourist
"None whatever," answered the dis
consolate citizen of an Arizona town,
"except when a puff of wind comes
along and shifts a little sand."
8uch Ignorance!
"Why didn't you call my street?"
asked the Irate passenger.
"Beg pardon," answered the polite
conductor, "but I didn't know It was
yours."
True to Life.
He And how did the novel end?
She Oh, in the usual manner. The
duke married the American heiress,
and they lived unhappy ever after.
t