Yellow Men Sleep

This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1919. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER XXI SONG IN THB NIGHT THE beasts were driven at their best pace. The burdens were light, and cunningly adjusted. The wind held moderately from the northwest, covering their trail almost as soon as it was printed. The rolling, treachei'ous ridges were about them, and Levington gave steadfast attention to the compass. The camels, also their Mongolian driver, insistently veered from the proper course, which lay across shoulders of sand. The sun would turn unaccountably as they passed down into barren hollows that were like the cellars of some castle, ruined, gigantic. The air of heaven was here replaced by blasts of heat, steady curling, sapping. Nostrils grew tender with the stinging dust. Helen, in her great heaviness of heart, stared down at nothing. Fu Ah gave up the task of comforting her, at the request of his sister, who rode close beside the princess. Fansa's attention was in fact sorely divided between the marvels of an unknown world and the sorrows of her mistress. The Mongolian driver shoved Levington into the lead, and the white man was alternately alarmed and joyous. He looked back often, and his nerves crawled each time he fancied a puff of dust in the south. His best friend was gone, where he had wished to go. Con saw what had been in Andrew March's mind when he told of the seed-poison that leaves no dream behind, only a stilled body. Con was not holding that against his friend. The quiet investigator, who had weathered so much, whose worldly grasp had seemed so strong and sufficient, had been broken when his illusion failed, a woman waiting for him, but in another world. Just now, Levington's deepest hurt was to recall what he had seen in the devotional chamber underneath the palace, his princess in the same fragrant thrall. Her father had c...