Under the Rebel's Reign Part 21

"Pull up," said Forsyth, in quiet tones, "the game's up, we must make a fight for it."

Another volley whistled about them, and Brian's horse was. .h.i.t and fell to the ground.

"Are you hurt?" cried Helmar, dismounting to his a.s.sistance.

"Not a bit," replied the fallen man cheerily, springing to his feet.

The officer jumped off his horse, and the three men stood ready to sell their lives as dearly as possible. They were none too soon, for, in the darkness, the enemy, riding at full gallop, were almost on top of them before they could pull up. The moment they were near enough to see, they poured another murderous volley into the devoted little party, and the Irishman fell with a bullet through his chest.

In reply, the Captain and our hero blazed away with their rifles into the cl.u.s.ter of hors.e.m.e.n.

Suddenly a voice rang out above the noise of the cracking rifles, and the Arabs ceased fire; then clear and strong came in unmistakable European tones--

"Surrender, you English, or you die!"

In an instant Helmar recognized the voice--it was Arden's. Rage filled him as he thought that once more he was in the power of this man, and he made up his mind to fire his last cartridge before he gave in. He raised his rifle to his shoulder, but Forsyth stayed him.

"It's no use. He has got us foul. Alive we may escape, but with fifty to one against us, it is suicide." Then raising his voice to a shout, he cried, "We surrender!"

The words were hardly out of his mouth when, with a terrific shout, a volley was poured into the unprepared Arabs, and a frightful _melee_ ensued as the rest of the patrol, headed by the sergeant, charged to the rescue.

In the confusion Forsyth and Helmar sprang on to their horses--Brian was beyond their help--and galloped towards their friends. The darkness was so intense that the two men immediately got separated.

Helmar unconsciously altered his direction and immediately fell in with a party of hors.e.m.e.n galloping off. Thinking it to be the patrol, he joined them, and raced away. His horse was very fresh and quickly forged ahead into the midst of his companions, when, to his dismay, he discovered his mistake--he was in the midst of the flying enemy.

With an exclamation of horror he endeavoured to pull up, but this attracted attention, and the men beside him, turning, saw his white face and shouted to their leader. George raised his revolver, but ere he could pull the trigger it was knocked from his hand and he was defenceless.

The Arabs now closed all around him--there was no possibility of escape. One man had seized his horse's bridle, and he was forced to gallop on whether he liked it or not. He threw back his head and shouted, thinking his friends might still be within hearing, but a blow on the mouth with the b.u.t.t end of a pistol silenced him, and bursting with rage and mortification he had to gallop on.

His feelings were terrible; to be captured in this childish manner was too disgusting for words--and by Arden too! He railed bitterly at losing the Captain in the darkness.

"If I had only had sense enough to stick close to him," he thought to himself, "I should have been all right, instead of again being in the power of this treacherous Mark. There'll be precious little mercy for me this time, and when we get to his camp, I expect he'll have me hanged."

Then the thought struck him that as yet Mark, if he was with the party, had not seen him, and he felt inclined, notwithstanding the exigencies of his position, to laugh at the surprise it would cause that worthy when he became aware of who his prisoner chanced to be.

They were ascending a hill, and on the top of it George could see a number of lights twinkling and bobbing about through the fringe of bush that covered it. His captors gave him but little time to speculate as to the place they were nearing, for not for one instant did they slacken their speed as they ascended the steep slopes.

Helmar knew by the pace of the journey that he could not be far from Kafr Dowar, but he had never heard that it was on a hill, and besides, the railway pa.s.sed through it. This latter thought convinced him that this place must be only some patrolling station of the rebels, and he felt sorry for himself that such was the case; he would probably be in the power of Arden or some subordinate, either of whom might, as likely as not, order him to be beheaded for the amus.e.m.e.nt of the crowd.

These thoughts were not very comforting, and he was glad to put them from him for others of a less morbid character, as he entered the low scrubby bush in which the camp was pitched.

No word had pa.s.sed between him and his captors from the moment they had become aware of his presence amongst them. This ominous silence had struck him at first as curious, but realizing a few of the peculiarities of the "Gypies," he took this for one of them and refrained from breaking it.

He was still in doubt as to whether Arden was with them, or whether this was another party altogether, but, whichever way it was, he meant to keep to himself the fact that he could understand Arabic, and trusted that his knowledge of their language might help him to escape, or at least save his skin.

On the whole, after the first shock of his capture was over, he began to think that his fate might have been very much worse; he might have been with poor Brian lying dead on the sandy plain, a prey for the vultures who would swarm in dozens over his carcase at daylight; or he might only have been wounded, when to be left out in the scorching rays of the sun would have been ten times worse.

With reflections such as these he endeavoured to comfort himself, and, as he entered the rebels' encampment, he felt he was ready to face anything that was likely to happen.

Pa.s.sing by a row of mud huts, the party drew up outside one bigger than the rest.

Helmar was jealously guarded by two of the soldiers armed with rifles and pistols, while a confabulation was being held by the rest. They were talking some yards away, and so many tongues were going at once that it was impossible for him to make out what was said.

At last, however, they evidently came to a decision, and at a word he was led off, with his horse, to a hut where his guards told him in Arabic to dismount.

George was prepared for something like this, and remained where he was, pretending that he did not understand. Immediately the men, taking the bait, conveyed their meaning by signs, and he instantly dismounted. He was then led into the hut, and the moment after the soldiers left him, closing and barring the door behind them.

CHAPTER XVI

WE MEET AGAIN

The place in which George found himself so roughly thrust was pitch dark. He vainly turned from side to side to discover, if possible, what his surroundings were, but he could see nothing. The ominous "clumping" of the bars as the rebel soldiers put them in place, warned him that they had no idea of giving him any opportunity of escape, and he must be content for a while at least to remain where he was and make the best of things. He listened for the sound of retreating footsteps, but, hearing none, concluded that the two men had been told off to mount guard over him, thus making his captivity doubly secure.

Waiting for a moment or two, to get accustomed to the darkness, he proceeded to feel his way about, in the hopes of finding something on which to sit and rest; but, after hesitatingly moving round the walls, he came to the conclusion that the hut was bare of all furniture, and if he wished for rest he must sit on the ground.

Being somewhat philosophical, this he did, leaning his back against the wall, and gave himself up to formulating a plan of campaign.

This was no easy matter; he had but the vaguest ideas what his fate was to be, and therefore it was impossible to know what was the best line of action to adopt.

The one thing he feared was that there was no sufficiently powerful rebel here to protect him from the barbarity of the half-wild soldiery; and if this were so, his life, when daylight came, would not be worth twopence. If Mark Arden happened to be in command he might possibly attempt to save him for a worse fate than even the one he had already pictured; of the two, he would sooner face the soldiers, for then his end would be swift, and he could at least face it like a man.

His thoughts brought him so little comfort, so little hope, that at last he put them from him altogether, and, in spite of all his danger, in spite of all this discomfort, he curled himself up and slept the sound refres.h.i.+ng sleep of a tired man. Once more he was back in Germany, once more amongst the students of the University; the Debating Society was in full swing, and he was again enacting that little drama in the club-rooms. Somehow Arabi was mixed up with it all, encouraging him to help his friend from the bullying Landauer, smiling brightly on him as he uttered the scathing words preceding his challenge. Suddenly in the midst of it all there came a terrific peal of thunder, and he awoke with a start, to hear the bars being removed from his prison-door and to see the bright sunlight streaming in through cracks in both roof and wall of the cranky hut.

He rubbed his eyes for a moment to make sure he was not still dreaming, then, as the door was flung open and the dirty face of a ragged, half-dressed soldier appeared, he recollected everything, and sprang to his feet in antic.i.p.ation of rough treatment.

Critically scanning the man who stood before him, George could not be certain if it was the same fellow who had thrust him in there the night before. He was not long left in doubt, for he was addressed in the broken English common to natives used to mixing with Europeans, and George knew at once that this was a fresh jailer.

"The officer will speak with the Englishman," he said with a grin.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "And how do you propose to drag me from here if I do not choose to go?" p. 181]

"Oh," replied George in the same language, "and what does he want with me? Who is this officer? Why can't he come to me?" he went on in defiant tones.

"You are prisoner, and the officer he not come to prisoners. You are to die soon," was the comforting reply.

"Yes, and who is going to kill me? You?" with fine contempt in his tones, eyeing the insignificant wretch up and down.

"I come not here to talk with the dog of a Christian. If you will not come with me, I must take you, for the Pasha will not wait.

Come!"

Helmar burst out into a loud laugh. The thought of this dirty little Egyptian taking him anywhere against his will was too much for him; notwithstanding the exigencies of the situation he resolved to tease him.

"And how do you propose to drag me from here if I do not choose to go?"

The little man's eyes glittered, and his hand rested on a revolver in his belt. He saw that the "dog of a Christian" was laughing at him, and he did not like it.

"My orders are to bring you; if you will not come alive, then----"

and he drew his revolver and levelled it at George's head.

Thinking he had gone far enough, and realizing that the wretch was in earnest, George stopped laughing.