The Snake, The Crocodile, And The Dog Part 48

"You can't take anything for granted where that bullheaded billy goat is concerned," Cyrus said picturesquely.

I promised to see what I could do to convince Emerson. I hope no one will suppose that it was a lack of Spartan fort.i.tude that made me favor a reprieve from our labors. A lady likes to be fresh and dainty at all times, and a lady who is attempting to win the heart of a gentleman cannot feel much confidence in her success when she looks like a dusty mummy and smells like a donkey. However, those were not my reasons (at least I think they were not) for wis.h.i.+ng to leave the royal wadi. The place was beginning to oppress me. The rocky walls seemed to have edged in closer, the shadows were deeper. I had crawled on hands and knees through dusty tunnels and squirmed through holes scarcely large enough to admit my body without ever feeling the sense of claustrophobia that afflicted me now.

The others had returned from their work, so I went off to look for Abdullah. He and our other men had their own little camp, they were frightful sn.o.bs (as they had some reason to be, since they were the most sought-after trained workers in the country) and always refused to hobn.o.b with lesser men. I had brought along my medical kit and when I saw the delighted smiles that greeted me I felt ashamed that I had not taken the time to fahddle with them, or even ask whether they needed attention.

I felt even more ashamed when they displayed a variety of minor injuries, ranging from a mashed finger to a bad case of ophthalmia. After I had washed out Daoud's eyes with a solution of boracic acid, and tended the other injuries, I scolded them for not coming to me at once.

"Tomorrow we will return to the river," I said. "My medical supplies are low, and we all need rest."

"Emerson will not go," said Abdullah gloomily.

"He will go willingly, willingly, or rolled in a rug and carried on our backs," I said. or rolled in a rug and carried on our backs," I said.

The men grinned and nudged one another, and Abdullah's dour face brightened a trifle. But he shook his head. "You know why he came here, Sitt."

"Certainly I know. He hoped to entice our enemy into attacking him again, so that he could catch the fellow. So far only half that brilliant plan has succeeded. We have been attacked twice- "

"Not we, Sitt Hakim. You."

"And Mohammed. That is three attempts, and we are no nearer a solution than before."

"It has made Emerson very angry," said Abdullah. "He did very foolish things today, even more foolish than is his custom. Once he almost escaped me. Fortunately Ali saw him slip away and followed him.

He was almost at the end of the wadi before Ali came up to him."

"What was he doing?" I demanded.

Abdullah spread his hands out and shrugged. "Who can follow the thoughts of the Father of Curses? Perhaps he hoped they were waiting to find him alone."

"All the more reason why we must persuade him to leave this place," I said firmly. "It is too dangerous.

I will go now and find him."

"I will have the rug ready, Sitt," said Abdullah.

Emerson was not in his tent. It was getting dark, night gathered in the narrow cleft like black water filling a bowl. Stumbling over stones and swearing under my breath (an indication, if any were needed, that my state of mind was far from the calm that ordinarily marks it), I finally smelled tobacco and made out the red glow of his pipe. He was sitting on a boulder some distance from the fire. At first I took the dark shape at his feet for another rock. Then its outlines s.h.i.+fted, like shadows moving.

"Get up at once, Bertha," I said sharply. "A lady does not squat on the ground."

"I did offer her a rock," said Emerson mildly. "So spare me the lecture I feel sure you were about to deliver. She was in need of comfort and rea.s.surance, as any normal female would be under these circ.u.mstances. You would not expect an English gentleman like myself to turn away a lady in distress."

"She might have come to me." I fear my tone was still a trifle critical. "What is the matter, Bertha?"

"How can you ask?" She continued to crouch at his feet, and I thought she pressed closer to him, if that were possible. "He is out there, watching and waiting. I can feel his eyes upon me. He is toying with me, like a cat with a mouse. Your guards are useless, he can come and go as he likes, and when he wishes to strike at me, he will." She rose to her feet and stood swaying. Even in the dark I could see the agitated trembling of her draperies. "This is a horrible place! It closes in around us like a giant tomb, and every rock, every crevice hides an enemy. Are you made of ice or stone, that you cannot feel it?"

I would have slapped her soundly across the cheek if I had been able to locate that part of her body precisely. Reaching out blindly, I took hold of some part- an arm, I believe- and shook it vigorously. "Enough of that, Bertha. None of us is pleased to be here, but an exhibition of unwomanly hysteria won't help matters."

A voice from the dark repeated, "Unwomanly?"

Ignoring it, I went on, "You will only have to endure one more night here. We are leaving tomorrow."

"Do you mean it? Is it true?"

Emerson must have inadvertently inhaled a quant.i.ty of smoke. He began coughing violently. "Yes,"

I said loudly. "It is true. Now go and- and- oh, I don't care what the devil you do, only stop keening and wailing and getting everyone in a state of nerves."

She moved away, gliding over the uneven ground as easily as if she could see in the dark. Emerson had got his breath under control. He remarked, "Nothing seems to affect your nerves, MISS Peabody. Or your monstrous self-confidence. So you have decided we are leaving, have you?"

"Circ.u.mstances that should be apparent to any reasonable individual demand a brief interlude for rest and reorganization. I cannot collate the rubbings and squeezes I made in the royal tomb under these conditions. The men are ent.i.tled to their day of rest, and I used most of my medical supplies on Mohammed, and furthermore . . Good Gad, why am I arguing with you?"

"It would be a departure for you to deign to explain your decisions," Emerson replied, in the same ominously mild voice. "I take it you have subverted Abdullah and the other men, as well as your faithful follower Vandergelt? I cannot prevent you from doing as you like, but what is to stop me from remaining here?"

"Abdullah and the other men, as well as my faithful follower Vandergelt," I replied smartly. "Now come back to the fire. Don't sit here in the dark inviting someone to stab you in the back."

"I will sit where I like, MISS Peabody, for as long as I choose. Good evening to you."

No one tried to stab Emerson in the back, much to his disappointment, I felt certain. It was not long before he joined us at the fire I waited for him before making my announcement, since it is not my habit to undermine his authority behind his back. Direct confrontation, and a brisk argument, saves time in the long run, I had found.

The argument did not ensue, nor did the news of our departure produce the surprise and pleasure I had expected. It appeared that everyone had taken it for granted.

"Friday is the Moslem holy day, after all," Charlie pointed out. "We figured an enlightened employer like Mr. Vandergelt would be sympathetic to the rights of the laboring man and agree we were ent.i.tled to the same " He gave his employer a cheeky grin.

Cyrus grunted, quite as Emerson might have done. Emerson did not even grunt.

I wondered what he was up to. A few moments of cogitation gave me an answer, however. He had hoped to entice our enemy out into the open. So far that enemy had declined to take the challenge, as any sensible person would. He had sent hired bullies and spies to do the dirty work, and if he had been on the scene it had been under cover of darkness. I doubted that he had. His modus operandi, if I may employ a technical term, was based on the principle of leading his regiment from behind. He had not dared face Emerson until the latter was chained and helpless.

Impatience is one of Emerson's most conspicuous failings, and although "stubborn" is too mild a word for him, he does not refuse to accept a conclusion when it is forced upon him. His stratagem had not succeeded, nor was it likely to. Of course I had realized this from the first, and if Emerson had been willing to listen to reason I would have told him so. He had not been willing to listen, the conclusion had now been forced upon him, and he was getting bored with fighting off attentions that distracted him from his archaeological work and yielded no effective results. The time had come to s.h.i.+ft his ground.

At least, I reflected, it had not been a complete waste of time. The removal of Mohammed was a dubious blessing, I did not doubt Sethos could find as many scurvy a.s.sa.s.sins as he wanted. But we (I use the word editorially) had done some good work in the royal tomb, and gotten some ideas about promising sites for future excavation. Kevin was firmly in hand, not wandering around the country causing trouble, and whether Cyrus admitted it or not, which he did not, I knew that Charlie was the man to be watched.

I was glad I had not yielded to my first unthinking impulse and put him under arrest. Secret surveillence of his movements might lead us to his master.

Most consoling of all- dare I admit it?- was the fact that we had survived two of the frightful fates mentioned in the antique tale. I did not dare admit it to anyone else, for fear of being laughed at, but as you will see, dear Reader, a woman's instincts are keener to discern the mysterious workings of Fate than is cold logic.

We were all in good spirits when we set out next morning. We were on foot,- since we were leaving the tents and much of our equipment behind, there was no need for donkeys Bertha's musical laugh echoed frequently from the rocky walls,- it held a note of antic.i.p.ation that made me realize she was, after all, very young. Inured as I am to the hards.h.i.+ps of desert travel, I found myself looking forward with great antic.i.p.ation to a bath and a change of clothing. I had brought three of my working suits with me, all were in a frightful state of dust and muss, for of course it had been impossible to rinse them out.

I felt as if some invisible burden had fallen from my shoulders when we emerged from the widening mouth of the wadi and saw the plain stretching out before us. Open air, sunlight, distance! They came as an indescribable relief after those days of confinement. The sun was high and the desert quivered with heat, but beyond it the cool green of the cultivation and the glitter of water refreshed the eyes.

Our path led along the north side of the low hills that enclosed the Eastern Village. No one suggested we stop to rest, though we had been walking for two hours, we were all anxious to press on Emerson had forged ahead, as was his infuriating habit, the cat clung to his shoulder, and Abdullah was close on his heels. Bertha and the two young men had fallen behind. I am sure I need not say that Cyrus was beside me as he always was.

Only our voices broke the stillness. Gradually, however, I became aware of another sound, sharp-pitched and monotonous as the mechanical ringing of a bell. It rose in volume as we approached the end of the ridge. Ahead and to the left I saw the wall of the little house Cyrus had caused to be built. The sound might have been coming from it.

Emerson heard it too. He stopped, c.o.c.king his head. Lowering the cat to the ground he turned, heading for the house.

The sun beat down on my shoulders and head with the force of an open fire, but a sudden chill permeated every inch of my body I had recognized the sound It was the howling of a dog.

I shook Cyrus off and began to run. "Emerson!" I shrieked "Don't go there! Emerson, stop!"

He glanced at me and went on.

Though Emerson dislikes displaying any of the softer emotions, he is as fond of animals as I. His efforts on behalf of abused and threatened creatures do not attain the extravagance to which his son is unfortunately p.r.o.ne, but he had often interfered to rescue foxes from hounds and hunters. The cries of the dog suggested it was in pain or distress. They drew Emerson as strongly as they would have drawn me- had I not had cause to antic.i.p.ate danger from such a source

I saved my breath for running. I can, when it is necessary, attain quite a rapid pace, but on this occasion I believe I broke my own record. Emerson had reached the house before I caught him up. He paused, his hand on the latch, and looked at me curiously.