"Please do go away, Mammy!" begged Fen. "We don't need you at all, because I've had my tea, and this-this gentleman will carry me down to bed-that is-I mean will you, Siddereticus?" he added, looking inquiringly at the Djinn.

"Certainly I'll carry you, anywhere you ask-to the ends of the earth, if need be," said he, and, turning to Mammy, cried:

"Hence! Be off! Do not let me have to command thee thrice! Depart! Go in peace, O Daughter of Senegambia!"

"Lawsy!" muttered Mammy, as she went away, looking fearfully over her shoulder. "Whut he mean by daughter ob Sunny Gammy, I dunno. Pappy's name was G'o'ge Washin'ton Johnson."

A few stars were beginning to appear in the sky, which had grown dark very suddenly after the sunset, and a luminous glow far down in the east showed where the big, full moon was rising.

"When the rim of the moon comes up from the Nile and makes a pathway of silver upon the waters, then must you go to bed," said Siddereticus.

"Did you know," he went on, "that when Horus, the Sun-god, the Beautiful, has passed through the skies in the blazing Boat of the Sun and has come to the end of his journey, then his wife Athor, who is the golden sky of the West, stretches her arms to him and embraces him, and together they sink beneath the waters to the Land of Spirits. Then comes Maut, the Mother-goddess-the deep night sky -to spread her cool veil over all this hot desert-land. Do you see? She is all about us now, big and tender and comforting;

Fen snuggled happily into the strong arms that lifted him so gently, and he was almost asleep when Siddereticus laid him quietly on his bed.

"Good night, Fen Effendi, good night," whispered the Djinn, "Maut is watching over you, with eyes that will not close till Sate, the pale morning sky of the East, waits for the coming of the Sun-god."

He kissed Fen's cheek, laid his hand for an instant on the bright hair, and vanished. with a faint swirl of his gown. Fen fell happily asleep while Mammy was putting him to bed, and did not remember that they would sail at seven the next morning and that he would not see his beloved Djinn again.

HE did n't belong to any patrol-he was n't a real scout at all; but it was n't Davy's fault. He was only nine and a half, you see, and that meant two years and six months of waiting-interminable waiting it seemed to Davy-before he could wear the coveted arrow-head badge of the tenderfoot scout and go hiking and camping like big Cousin Fred.

That is how the figures stood late in December. It was the summer before, at Grandfather's, that Davy had first begun counting the time until he should be twelve. There, at the farm, he had met Cousin Fred. Fred was sixteen years old, a first-class scout, patrol leader in his home town, and a winner of the life-saving merit badge. But he had never felt too big to take Davy for a Sunday hike over the hills, relating thrilling tales of scout camp life and woodcraft; telling all about scout law, with its twelve hard things every scout must be and the daily good turn every scout must do; explaining the different badges, the oath and the salute. What wonder that Davy wanted to be a scout most of anything in the world!

Shortly after his return in the autumn, Davy determined to take matters into his own hands. Accordingly, one day, standing before his looking-glass and raising his right hand, palm to the front, he solemnly swore to the oath, all by himself; then he pinned under his jacket, right over his heart, a secret badge of his own designing. There he had worn it ever since, and considered himself as honor-bound to the oath as any scout living.

It was now two days before Christmas. There had been a snow-storm, clearing about noon. Davy had hailed it with whoops of delight. Now, by shoveling walks, he might earn money to get a Christmas present for Mother and Father, after all. It could not be the magnificent azalea and real leather pocketbook he had first aspired to-that had been on the assumption of at least six snow-storms; but

there was a gay little Jerusalem cherrytree for Mother, and for Dad a beauty of a tie, red and green changeable. Davy had selected them days ago-all he was waiting for was a job. What luck it should be Saturday and no school!

When the one o'clock whistle blew, Davy and his snow-shovel were well on their way, bound for an attractive-looking corner house out on the avenue-corner houses were twice the job of ordinary places. Davy pressed the bell button confidently. A sour-looking maid opened the door an inch, snapped out "No," and banged it to before Davy could get out a word. He stood staring at the door for a moment, his mouth still open, but a minute later he was striding across the street to the opposite corner, once more wearing his sturdy scout smile. There, however, they kept a hired man; next door, a big boy was already at work. For one reason or another, nobody seemed to need Davy's services, and it began to look as if Daddy and Mother might not get their Christmas gifts at all; only Davy was determined. At last, a nice little lady twinkled "yes" over her spectacles. But Davy was only on his third contract, with a shortage of ten cents staring him in the face, when the town clock struck four.

"Well, I declare, you work as if you meant business!" A jolly old man paused at Davy's elbow. "Come up to number seventy Lexington Avenue-electric light in front-and I'll give you a job. My pay is thirty cents. If you are n't there by a quarter of five, I 'll take it you 've struck something nearer by and do it myself."

"Oh, I'll be there, all right; thank you, sir!" Davy's spirits rose to the crown of his cap. The necktie and cheery-tree were now assured-and a box of candy besides!

Fifteen minutes later, he was scuttling out to Lexington Avenue. As he was crossing the street, a block or two from the railroad station, he nearly ran down a young lady dashing along with a suitcase,

steady her. "Thank you," she gasped. "I do feel a little shaky-running with this heavy luggage, I suppose. I believe I'll go around the corner to the drug store and get something hot-provided I can secure a trusty young man to watch my suitcase." She smiled confidently down into Davy's honest face. "I'll be back in ten minutes, in time to catch the next car."

"Oh, you can trust me, sure!" Davy smiled back. A scout has to be helpful and courteous, especially to people in trouble.

"And you'll stay right here with it and not let any one touch it? It contains all my Christmas presents, you see."

Davy promised with his hand over his badge, but of course she could n't see that away under his jacket!

He watched her anxiously as she crossed the street and turned the corner; then sat down on one end of the bag, his snowshovel at his feet, and began to consider.

It was now twenty-two minutes after four by the clock in the little tailor shop at his left, and he must meet his appointment at a quarter of five or lose his job. Luckily, he had planned to get there ahead of time and she would be back in ten minutes so he'd keep his date all right.

Trinity chimes pealed the half-hour. Eight minutes gone, and she had n't returned yet.

Now, in the distance appeared a Fletcher Avenue car-her car, that she would surely be back to take! It approached, passed -and she had not come. Something must have happened! If he could only go around the corner and find out-but there was his promise.

Another five minutes gone-why did n't she come! He might still make it if he ran.

The chimes rang out a quarter of five! It was all up now about the job, and he was still ten cents short on his Christmas fund; for he could not take a tip from the lady a scout may never accept pay for a good turn! A chill wind was coming up, and it was growing darker and darker on the lonely corner. Davy stood up and stamped his feet to get out the numbness. But a scout has to be cheerful, no matter what, and he tried to whistle.

The town clock struck five,—the little tailor came out of his little shop, rattled his big key in his door and was gone, leaving Davy lonesomer than ever. He brushed his eyes with his coat sleeve. A scout cry? Never! But he was so cold and lonesome and disappointed about the job! He had n't thought that being a scout was just like this.

Then suddenly, clearer than the chimes, he seemed to hear Cousin Fred's cheerful voice again, reciting their favorite passage from the law: "A scout is brave. He has the courage to face danger in spite of fear." And Davy knew, for sure, that he was n't going to desert his post, no, not even if it meant an all-night watch! He turned up his coat collar and started whistling again, -with better success,-keeping time with his toes as he paced up and down.

"Hello, pard, waitin' fer yer airship?" A burly young tough whom Davy had noticed hanging around the opposite corner swaggered up with a cigarette in his mouth. "What yer got there? Nuggets or bombs?" giving the suitcase a kick. “Aw, say," he added, with an insinuating leer, "I'll mind it whilst yer beat it to Jakey's fer a bag o' peanuts," and he held out a nickel.

"Oh, no, thank you." Davy sat down on the suitcase in a hurry. "I could n't think of leaving it to any one, not even somebody I know. I promised her, you see, the young lady,-to keep it till she came back. It 's got all her Christmas presents in it!" Davy added proudly.

The ruffian's eyes narrowed. He cunningly changed his tactics. "Say, kid, what did she look like-her that belongs to the bag?"

"All kind o' brown clothes and pretty and dreadful white in the face. Maybe you 've seen her?" wistfully.

"Well, what do yer know!" Davy felt his arm clutched tight. "Believe me, pard, that young lady's a pertic'ler friend o' mine! And if you 'l jest remove yerself from her trunk there, I'll be dee-lighted to fetch it to her. Here, I'll stand fer her tip," trying to slip a coin into Davy's hand.

"No, sir!" Davy set his jaw fast and

went the enemy with an ugly growl, pitched sprawling into the gutter!

And the car had stopped, depositing a broad-shouldered young man who saw what had occurred and was now making rapid strides right toward 'Davy. The ruffian, scenting trouble, picked himself up, and limped a precipitate retreat through the shadow and around the corner-without the bag!

"Well, well, here you are, standing by your guns, just as she said you'd be!" The young man was addressing Davy, who had managed to get on his legs once more and