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THE TRAGEDY OF THE KOROSKO

himself. But beyond this golden plain lay a low line of those black slag-heaps, with yellow sand-valleys winding between them. These in their turn were topped by higher and more fantastic hills, and these by others, peeping over each other’s shoulders until they blended with that distant violet haze. None of these hills were of any height—a few hundred feet at the most—but their savage, saw-toothed crests, and their steep scarps of sun-baked stone, gave them a fierce character of their own.

“The Libyan Desert,” said the dragoman, with a proud wave of his hand. “The greatest desert in the world. Suppose you travel right west from here, and turn neither to the north nor to the south, the first houses you would come to would be in America. That make you home-sick, Miss Adams, I believe?”

But the American old maid had her attention drawn away by the conduct of Sadie, who had caught her arm by one hand and was pointing over the desert with the other.

“Well, now, if that isn’t too picturesque for anything!” she cried, with a flush of excitement