ying Amazon. The arrow had passed through her heart; she had instinctively clasped one arm around Ned's neck, and she fixed her large eyes fondly upon him for a few moments as she vainly strove to speak. With a smile of love and triumph upon her beautiful features, Leona's brave spirit fled. Ned laid her body gently down, and straightening her lovely limbs, he placed her bow and empty quiver by her side, and then renewed the fight.

There was little left to complete the victory. The fall of the huge rock had created a panic; those who had been hemmed within the narrow passage had been massacred to a man, and Ned and Tim now opened fire with fatal effect upon the retreating throng, who fell pell-mell down the steep approach in their frantic efforts to escape from the cloud of arrows and the bullets that whizzed among them.

The fight was over. The defenders had not lost many men, as they had been more or less protected by the rocks, but several were wounded by poisoned arrows, whose death was certain, as the slightest puncture would be fatal.

The body of the courageous queen was laid out upon the lion's skin upon which she used to sit beneath the sycamore, and all the women wept and raised their loud shrill cry of distress, in which the men joined as they mourned for the beautiful Leona. Her bow and quiver lay by her side; and although her lovely features were placid, the stern smile of triumph still lingered upon her face as Ned, for the last time, looked upon her with deep regret that he should have been the unwilling cause of her untimely end.

"Massa Ned," said Tim, "dis a bad job 'tirely; de poor queen's dead; but if she alive, dat's a worse job, she never let Massa Ned go away. Neber see in all my life such eyes! De queen love Massa Ned like mad; bad ting dat. I know de nigger queen. All fire one day, all water de next; love you in de night, kill you in de morning; dat's de

trick 'xactly. Bad job de poor queen's dead, worse job if she alive; dat's a fact 'xactly. Now, Massa Ned, let's cut and run before anoder job begins."

The philosophic Tim having given his opinion, with which Ned could hardly disagree, however much he might have admired the beauty and courage of the unfortunate young queen, he determined to start without delay, as fortune had hitherto smiled upon their journey beyond his most sanguine hopes. Once across the terrible desert, he would have little to fear.

Ned addressed himself to the old man of the village, and declared that he would not remain any longer among them, lest he might bring fresh calamities upon their tribe; and, deploring the queen's death, he begged that he might depart at once. His determination was applauded by all present, and as the guide was a native of a tribe to which he wished to return on the other side of the desert, there was no difficulty. All was prepared for the journey; an ox was loaded with two large water-skins, and after a hearty meal, Ned and Tim took leave of their hosts and started. The guide was a fine powerful man who knew the route thoroughly; he had distinguished himself in the late fight, but he had received a slight scratch upon the arm from an arrow as it had grazed his skin during its flight; he had simply bound a piece of plantain-leaf around the scratch to prevent the flies from troubling him. After an hour's quick walking they left the forest that bordered the river, and entered upon a boundless plain of sand and pebbles, devoid of all vegetation except a few stunted mimosas, and scattered tufts of a withered wiry-looking grass.

Although this portion of the country was a frightful desert during the dry season, it abounded with grass and water during the rains; but when the drought arrived, there was a general disappearance of all herbage, as it became so

completely dry that the fine grass broke into minute pieces, and was carried away by the wind, leaving bare the hot and barren soil that did not appear capable of producing vegetation. For a distance of about a hundred and twenty miles there was neither well nor stream: thus, as no drop of water could be procured during this dry season, it was necessary to force a march of about forty miles per day to accomplish the journey in three days. Ned did not fear any distance provided the supply of water was assured, but any accident to the water-skins would terminate in the destruction of the entire party.

They now pushed forward over the barren surface of the desert; their ammunition had been reduced by the late fight to ten rounds of cartridge each, therefore they had not much to carry beside their guns, as they had fastened their knapsacks upon the ox, which, having drunk water before starting, would be able to travel for two days, or about eighty miles.

CHAPTER XX.

HE moon rose, and the night air was cool and delicious.

THE

It was past midnight, and the party travelled rapidly along the even surface, unimpeded by the tangled vegetation that had retarded them in some portions of their journey. There was no wind, and not a cloud upon the sky, in which the stars shone with extraordinary brightness, although those near the moon were nearly eclipsed by her extreme light. There was a silvery glow upon the wild desert that gave an indescribable beauty to the scene: the rocks that rose abruptly from the sandy plain appeared to assume the forms of monsters, as in the indistinct haze of distance Ned sometimes fancied that they moved; but in reality there was no life within the parched and dreary desert—all was solitude, sand-rocks, and rounded pebbles. The ox, laden sparingly with the knapsacks and water-skins, marched well; the tinkle of an iron bell suspended from its neck was the only sound that disturbed the silence of the spot, while the tall, powerful figures of Ned and Tim, following the guide, seemed to glide like spectres along the sandy waste, upon which their footsteps left no sound.

The night passed away, and the moon grew pale as the first streaks of dawn appeared in the east. Quickly the stars disappeared, and the planet Venus, lately so brilliant, faintly glimmered as the last of the bright host, and then vanished from view as the gorgeous orb of gold rose suddenly from the horizon of desert, and glowed all mighty upon the sterile scene. It was the horror of sunrise. The

pitiless destroyer rose vigorous in the sky, rejoicing in his power. The air, lately so cool, now quivered with insupportable heat; the sand of the desert scorched the feet; the poisonous breath of the Simoom, that destroying wind that seems to own a furnace as its birthplace blew upon them; still on they journeyed rapidly, as there was no shade in which to halt.

For fourteen hours they had marched without a rest, as it was necessary to push on with the greatest rapidity at the early part of the journey, that the ox might carry the water and knapsacks as far as possible before it should become exhausted from thirst, when it would be necessary to kill it. All were fatigued with intense heat, and the guide suffered from the slight scratch upon his arm, which had swollen, and was extremely painful.

For some time they had seen a lofty rocky mountain in the distance among a chain of lower hills; they determined to push on for the higher ground, in which they might discover some rock that would shelter them from the burning sun. For nearly four hours they marched, until they at length reached an overhanging rock in a rugged pass through which the dry bed of a broad torrent formed a stony road. Here, tired and thirsty, the party rested. Tim cut some brittle straw that was all that remained of some wiry herbage in the bed of the exhausted stream, and this he gave to the famished ox, that was too thirsty to eat; after vainly endeavoring to swallow a few mouthfuls, it refused the food. Tim now opened a water-skin, and moistened the straw by sprinkling it with a few handfuls of the precious fluid; the ox then ate it greedily.

The whole party lay down and slept. They woke at about 3 P.M., and immediately prepared to start; but all were foot-sore, as they had marched about forty-eight miles. The guide's arm was dreadfully swollen and painful, and the