Stolen Souls Part 34

In the grey hour before the dawn I left the camp. I had exchanged my scarlet trousers and gilt-braided tunic for a shapeless white burnouse, and about my head wore a haick, around which was twisted many yards of brown camel's hair; my face had been effectually dyed a deep brown, I had a.s.sumed a flowing black beard, and my bare feet were thrust into rough slippers. Any one who had met the inoffensive Arab trader from El Biodh, would scarcely have suspected him to be an officer of the Cha.s.seurs d'Afrique, and a well-known figure in drawing-rooms of the Avenue de Champs Elysees.

Mounted on a camel, with well-filled bags across my saddle, I rode slowly along, over the rough stony desert, eastward, guided only by the streak of yellow light that heralded the dawn.

Far away upon the horizon was a low range of hills, at the foot of which the Kel-Ahamellen were encamped.

I knew it was useless to evade pa.s.sing through their lines by taking a circuitous route, and had decided that it would be safer to act boldly, and endeavour to pa.s.s through their headquarters.

For hours I rode wearily onward. The pitiless rays of the blazing sun beat down upon the loose, parched earth, and their reflection almost blinded me. Not a breath of wind cooled the atmosphere, but, on the contrary, the blasts which ever and anon blew over the Great Sahara, whirling up dense clouds of sand, were like whiffs of hot air from a furnace.

The sun travelled its course, and sank behind me with a blood-red, angry glare that bathed the desert and mountains with brilliant tints. By shading my eyes with my hands, I could now distinguish that I was approaching the settlement of the hostile tribe, and could make out their scattered tents.

As I looked, I saw four figures approaching. They grew nearer rapidly.

Then I saw they were mounted Arabs, galloping with all speed towards me.

They were standing in the stirrups in the manner peculiar to the Bedouins of the Great Desert, and, with their long rifles carried high above their heads and their white burnouses flowing behind, were bearing down upon me.

Drawing a long breath, I collected all the courage I possessed.

A few minutes later, with wild yells, the brown-visaged quartette rode up to me, addressing rapidly-uttered questions in Arabic, which I answered coolly.

I told them that I had no sympathy with war, that I was a trader from El Biodh, and that my destination was In Salah, where I constantly had commercial transactions.

"But how camest thou here?" asked the great black-bearded fellow who had first addressed me, as he fixed his keen eyes upon mine.

"I rode," I replied in Arabic, a language in which I was fortunately proficient. "Allah hath protected me."

"Didst thou not see the red-legged French dogs?"

"Yes, I pa.s.sed them yesterday. There are thousands of them."

This statement seemed to cause them considerable dismay. They held a hurried conversation in an undertone, and then informed me that I should have to go before the Sheikh.

An hour later, I was taken before the chief of the tribe, who was seated cross-legged on a mat outside his tent. He was a grey-bearded, wizen-faced old man, whose eyes had lost none of the dark brilliance of youth, and whose teeth shone white in contrast with his red lips and sun-tanned yellow face. As I was led up to him, and the manner in which I had been discovered explained, he slowly removed his long pipe from his mouth, and regarded me critically.

"Thou sayest the French, the accursed offspring of Eblis, are numerous?

Where didst thou see them?"

"In an oasis near Tighehert."

"Ah! thine accent! Thou speakest French, then?"

"Yes, father," I replied; "I learned it in Algiers."

He grunted dubiously, and, turning to a great brawny giant who stood among the followers who crowded around him leaning upon their guns, uttered a few guttural words.

"Did not the sons of offal stop thee?" he inquired. "Relate unto me all thou knowest about them."

"I know nothing," I replied, bowing submissively. "I merely pa.s.sed, having satisfied them that I was not a spy. I had no object in interesting myself in the movements of infidels."

The old Sheikh replaced his chibouk between his lips and continued smoking in thoughtful silence, having fixed his gaze intently upon me.

"Hum!" he grunted.

Then he proceeded to interrogate me regarding my ride from El Biodh. My replies, however, did not apparently remove his suspicions, and he smiled sarcastically now and then, at the same time watching contemplatively the thin columns of blue smoke that rose from his pipe.

Suddenly he turned, and, addressing the men who had ridden out to meet me, gave orders that I should be searched.

I stood silently by, watching the men turn out and examine closely the contents of my saddlebags, and the food I was carrying. Then they proceeded to search my pockets, compelling me to raise my arms above my head.

_Peste_! Fate was again unpropitious!

As I raised my hands, my loose burnouse fell from my arms, leaving them bare, and disclosing that they were white!

"Ah!" cried the Sheikh, his bright eyes flas.h.i.+ng with anger. "So thou art a spy! Thou, son of a dog, seekest the overthrow of Allah's chosen!"

"My father," I cried, "I--I am not a spy. Behold! I have neither knife nor gun. Is it not written that the One Worthy of Praise showeth mercy only to the merciful?"

"Seize the dog! Take him away, and let him be shot at dawn, as soon as there is sufficient light to distinguish a black thread from a white,"

the old rebel commanded with a wave of his sun-tanned hand.

Then, rising, he cast aside his pipe impatiently, and was about to enter his tent, when his pa.s.sage was barred by a veiled girl in rich silks and gauzes, who stood for a moment gazing at me. Her _adjar_, although concealing her face, left visible a fine pair of sparkling black eyes, and a forehead that had been plentifully bedaubed with powder in the manner of Eastern women. Rows of golden sequins hung upon her brow, and upon her wrists and bare ankles were jingling bangles.

"Hold!" she cried in a commanding tone, raising her bare arm and addressing the Sheikh. "Though innocent of any crime, thou hast condemned him to die. Is it not written in the Book of Everlasting Will that mercy should be shown unto the weak?"

"He is a Roumi, and his tribe will be consumed by the unquenchable fire in Al-Hawiyat," answered the chief of the rebels.

"Of a verity thou speakest the truth," she said. "But is it not also written that thou shalt not transgress by attacking the infidel first, for Allah loveth not the transgressors."

"I have spoken!" roared the Sheikh in anger. "Seek not to argue, but return unto thy divan. The son of a dog shall die!" and, pus.h.i.+ng her roughly aside, he strode into his tent amid the murmured approbation of the crowd of dark-visaged hors.e.m.e.n who had a.s.sembled.

"Brothers," she cried in a voice that betrayed her agitation, "the Roumi now before thee hath fallen into our hands, therefore we should show him mercy. I, Halima Fathma, daughter of thy Sheikh,--upon whom may the One Merciful pour abundant blessing--appeal unto thee on his behalf. Wilt thou not release him, and lift from my heart the weight which oppresseth it?"

In the silence that followed, she gazed appealingly around.

"No," they answered, when they had whispered among themselves. "Our Sheikh hath condemned the spy. He seeketh to betray us, and must die."

"I am hungry," I cried, as, after further vain argument, the Sheikh's daughter was turning away. "It is permissible, I suppose, to have a last meal?"

Saying this, I stopped, and, picking up the small loaf which the Arabs had taken from my saddle-bag, commenced to eat it with a coolness which apparently astonished the group of freebooters of the plains.

Through that balmy moonlit night I remained where my captors had left me, bound to a palm tree in the vicinity of the settlement. Hour after hour I waited alone, watching the beauty of the Oriental sky, and longing for the end. I knew I should receive no quarter--that ere the sun rose I should be shot down, and my body left to the vultures. My thoughts reverted to my boyhood, to my gay, reckless career in Paris, and most of all to Valerie.

The moon was fast disappearing, and I was calmly watching for the steely-grey light which in the desert is precursory of dawn, when suddenly I heard a footstep. The person was concealed behind some huge boulders, and I concluded that it was one of my captors who had mounted guard over me.

Yet, as I listened, the steps sounded too stealthy, like those of a light-footed thief. I stood breathless in wonderment, when suddenly a slim, white-robed figure crept from behind the rocks, and advanced towards me.

It was an Arab youth. He placed his finger upon his lips, indicative of silence.

As he came up to me, I gazed at him in surprise, for his haick concealed his face.