The George Barr McCutcheon MEGAPACK ®. George Barr McCutcheon

and slender she stood before the burly Mohammed, but his ardor was not cooled by the presence of so many witnesses. With a thud he dropped to his knees, wabbling for a moment in the successful effort to maintain a poetic equilibrium. Then he began pouring forth volumes of shattered French, English and Arabic sentiment, accompanied by facial contortions so intense that they were little less than gruesome.

      “Oh, joy of the sun supreme, jewel of the only eye, hearken to the entreaty of Mohammed.” It was more as if he were commanding his troops in battle than pleading for the tender compassion of a lady love. “I am come for you, queen of the sea and earth and sky. My boats are here, my camels there, and Mohammed promises you a palace in the sun-lit hills if you will but let him bask forever in the glory of your smile.” All this was uttered in a mixture of tongues so atrocious that “Subway” Smith afterward described it as a salad. The retinue bowed impressively and two or three graceless Americans applauded as vigorously as if they were approving the actions of a well-drilled comic opera chorus. Sailors were hanging in the rigging, on the davits and over the deck house roof.

      “Smile for the gentleman, Peggy,” commanded Brewster delightedly. “He wants to take a short bask.”

      “You are very rude, Mr. Brewster,” said Peggy, turning upon him coldly. Then to the waiting, expectant sheik: “What is the meaning of this eloquence?”

      Mohammed looked bewildered for a moment and then turned to the interpreter, who cleared up the mystery surrounding her English. For the next three or four minutes the air was filled with the “Jewels of Africa,” “Star,” “Sunlight,” “Queen,” “Heavenly Joy,” “Pearl of the Desert,” and other things in bad English, worse French, and perfect Arabic. He was making promises that could not be redeemed if he lived a thousand years. In conclusion the gallant sheik drew a long breath, screwed his face into a simpering grin and played his trump card in unmistakable English. It sounded pathetically like “You’re a peach.”

      An indecorous roar went up from the white spectators and a jacky in the rigging, suddenly thinking of home, piped up with a bar or two from “The Star Spangled Banner.”

      Having accomplished what he considered to be his part of the ceremony the sheik arose and started toward his launch, coolly motioning for her to follow. So far as he was concerned the matter was closed. But Peggy, her heart thumping like a trip-hammer, her eyes full of excitement, implored him to stop for a moment.

      “I appreciate this great honor, but I have a request to make,” she said clearly. Mohammed paused irresolutely and in some irritation.

      “Here’s where the heathen gets it among the beads,” whispered Monty to Mrs. Dan, and he called out: “Captain Perry, detail half a dozen men to pick up the beads that are about to slip from his majesty’s neck.”

      CHAPTER XXIV

      THE SHEIK’S STRATEGY

      Peggy gave the sheik an entrancing smile, followed by a brief glance at the beaming Miss Valentine, who nodded her head approvingly.

      “Won’t you give me time to go below and pack my belongings that they may be sent ashore?” she asked naively.

      “Thunder!” gasped Monty. “That’s no way to turn him down.”

      “What do you mean, Monty Brewster?” she cried, turning upon him with flashing eyes.

      “Why, you’re encouraging the old guy,” he protested, disappointment in every inflection.

      “And what if I am? Isn’t it my affair? I think I am right in suspecting that he has asked me to be his wife. Isn’t it my privilege to accept him if I wish?”

      Brewster’s face was a study. He could not believe that she was in earnest, but there was a ghastly feeling that the joke was being turned on him. The rest of the company stared hard at the flushed Peggy and breathlessly waited developments.

      “It won’t do to trifle with this chap, Peggy,” said Monty, coming quite close to her. “Don’t lead him on. He might get nasty if he thinks you’re making sport of him.”

      “You are quite absurd, Monty,” she cried, petulantly. “I am not making sport of him.”

      “Well, then, why don’t you tell him to go about his business?”

      “I don’t see any beads lying around loose,” said “Rip” tormentingly. The sheik impatiently said something to the interpreter and that worthy repeated it for Peggy’s benefit.

      “The Son of the Prophet desires that you be as quick as possible, Queen of the World. He tires of waiting and commands you to come with him at once.”

      Peggy winced and her eyes shot a brief look of scorn at the scowling sheik. In an instant, however, she was smiling agreeably and was turning toward the steps.

      “Holy mackerel! Where are you going, Peggy?” cried Lotless, the first to turn fearful.

      “To throw some things into my trunk,” she responded airily. “Will you come with me, Mary?”

      “Peggy!” cried Brewster angrily. “This has gone far enough.”

      “You should have spoken sooner, Monty,” she said quietly.

      “What are you going to do, Margaret?” cried Mrs. Dan, her eyes wide with amazement.

      “I am going to marry the Son of the Prophet,” she replied so decidedly that every one gasped. A moment later she was surrounded by a group of excited women, and Captain Perry was calling the “jackies” forward in a voice of thunder.

      Brewster pushed his way to her side, his face as white as death.

      “This isn’t a joke, Peggy,” he cried. “Go below and I’ll get rid of the sheik.”

      Just then the burly Algerian asserted himself. He did not like the way in which his adored one was being handled by the “white dogs,” and with two spearmen he rushed up to Brewster, jabbering angrily.

      “Stand back, you idiot, or I’ll punch your head off,” said Brewster, with sudden emphasis.

      It was not until this moment that Peggy realized that there might be a serious side to the little farce she and Mary had decided to play for the punishment of Brewster. Terror suddenly took the place of mirth, and she clung frantically to Monty’s arm. “I was joking, Monty, only joking,” she cried. “Oh, what have I done?”

      “It’s my fault,” he exclaimed, “but I’ll take care of you, never fear.”

      “Stand aside!” roared the sheik threateningly.

      The situation was ominous. Frightened as they were the women could not flee, but stood as if petrified. Sailors eagerly swarmed to the deck.

      “Get off this boat,” said Monty, ominously calm, to the interpreter, “or we’ll pitch you and your whole mob into the sea.”

      “Keep cool! Keep cool!” cried “Subway” Smith quickly. He stepped between Brewster and the angry suitor, and that action alone prevented serious trouble. While he parleyed with the sheik Mrs. DeMille hurried Peggy to a safe place below deck, and they were followed by a flock of shivering women. Poor Peggy was almost in tears and the piteous glances she threw at Brewster when he stepped between her and the impetuous sheik, who had started to follow, struck deep into his heart and made him ready to fight to the death for her.

      It took nearly an hour to convince the Algerian that Peggy had misunderstood him and that American women were not to be wooed after the African fashion. He finally departed with his entire train, thoroughly dissatisfied and in high dudgeon. At first he threatened to take her by force; then he agreed to give her another day in which to make up her mind to go with him peaceably, and again he concluded that a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush.

      Brewster stood gloomily on the outside of the excited group glowering upon the ugly suitor. Cooler heads had relegated him to this place of security during the diplomatic contest. The sheik’s threats of vengeance were