Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 380: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A FAIR SLAVE TO THE MAHDI 373 four camels. In her frenzy Dorothy even tried to throw herself in their way, but only succeeded in thrusting out her white hand where the wheels of the gun carriage ran over it and crushed it into the sand. She rose and looked at the bruised member. She felt no pain as yet. Then she thought of the dagger—the poisoned dagger, and a frenzied laugh escaped her. She seized it with her left hand, gave herself a blow, and fell with her face in the sand prostrate over her comrade’s body. The sudden weight thrown upon him, seemed to rouse the prince, who had fallen into a sort of trance of exhaustion. He writhed and twisted till he sat erect, with the limp body of Dorothy across his knees. For a moment he did not realize what had happened; then he seized the frail form, drew it to him, and looked into the pale face. What had happened? Shot—killed? He thrust his hand into her bosom, moaning, “ Dorothy, Dorothy!” He felt the faint flutter of her heart. Then there seemed to gather within him a sudden and a gigantic courage—a super- natural strength from some miraculous source. Throwing his arms about the lithe form, he was about to raise it, when something slipped from her bosom and fell. The prince gave a gasp and stooped to pick it up, his soul on fire with wonder. Then he gave a wild cry. It was the dagger. For a moment Bardoff felt a sense of frightful suffocation, as if the sepul- cher were closing over him. ‘Then that nameless despair gave way to a hope- less, heedless resolve. He would take her in his arms and push on. Rising, he gathered poor Dorothy to his bosom again, and began running. Every now and then the mad refugee would see something indistinguish- able that blocked his way, would strike at it viciously, and then plunge for- ward like a tempest. He ran down a short ravine, whose bottom was filled with corpses. Over them he raced. Up on the other side, panting, stagger- ing, half dead ; and suddenly he confronted a solid square of blazing musketry before and above him. The bullets swept over his head like a whirlwind, and he stooped low. All at once he was overhauled by a dervish, whom, on turning, he ran through like a shot, leaving his sword in the fallen body. Then he raised his hand to the square of soldiers. There was a shrill shout from somewhere, and then this firing, almost full in his face, ceased. With wild shrieks the der- vishes were plunging down into the ravine back of him. A moment more and they would be upon him. At the same time another order came from the hollow of the square, and three hundred Britishers charged like mad toward the staggering figure with its limp burden. ‘My God! It’s the prince—it’s the prince and the ‘ angel of light.’ Save them, save them! ” “The prince—the prince! ” ran through the throng. “ Lie down!” shouted the forward man. ‘“ Down, down! ” Bardoff obeyed. Then came another whirlwind of bullets over his head, answered by a shower of lances from the howling Ansar. The regiment flew by, forming a protecting wedge behind him, pouring volley after volley into the groaning, struggling native horde. COM @ OOO YN| CO