Never,
in her memory, had another so befriended her. She looked up into
his face. It was a boyish, handsome face, nut-brown like her own.
She admired the spotted leopard skin that circled his lithe body
from one shoulder to his knees. The metal anklets and armlets
adorning him aroused her envy. Always had she coveted something
of the kind; but never had The Sheik permitted her more than the
single cotton garment that barely sufficed to cover her nakedness.
No furs or silks or jewelry had there ever been for little Meriem.
And Korak looked at the girl. He had always held girls in a
species of contempt. Boys who associated with them were, in his
estimation, mollycoddles. He wondered what he should do. Could he
leave her here to be abused, possibly murdered, by the villainous
old Arab? No! But, on the other hand, could he take her into the
jungle with him? What could he accomplish burdened by a weak and
frightened girl? She would scream at her own shadow when the moon
came out upon the jungle night and the great beasts roamed, moaning
and roaring, through the darkness.
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