CHAPTER IXTHE HAND OF DOOM

A TUAREG VILLAGE

THE WELL-HEADPASTORAL SCENES

THE WELL-HEAD

PASTORAL SCENES

They know much of poverty, and the herds of camels, goats, and sheep are their sole possessions of value, outside their freedom—which is precious beyond all else.

I conclude with an extract from my diary:

“The Tuareg encampment is situated in a fork of the Tesselaman Wadi, among low, wintry-looking acacias. Monotonous ranges of pale sand, and odd tufts of bleached grass, is all else in view. A hot, sand-filled wind sweeps across the land, and the sting of the glowing sun sickens all that lives.

“The camp is not large; about ten families in all. Entering it, no one is in view. The stock are being tended far afield, and those who remain in camp are watching my movements in hiding. The sole occupant of the first hut is an old woman. I salute her in her own tongue and seek out the next, about half a mile away. Here a pie-dog is barking viciously, and two men turn up to await my approach.

“We meet and scrutinise one another, as men on their guard. Then we commence to talk, and soon my business is explained: I wish to find the nearest well to take water in the evening.

“Very shortly other Tuaregs arrive surreptitiously, with inquiry in the dark eyes that peer from behind mask-like veils. The news of a stranger has flown round the encampment, and that is summons enough.

“We move under the shade of an acacia, and siton the loose sand and chat. My camel-men do most of the talking, and I am aware that they progress toward friendship.

“In the hut, near by, there is a woman and two children. We have awakened them from their sleep in the heat of the day, and the children are inclined to hide and draw back like frightened animals. A panting goat, that is sick, is tied to the bed within. The rounded dome of the hut, and the society of human beings is a picture that is pleasant to wilderness-weary eyes, and we stay beside the camp for a while. A lad departs to find the herds, and bring in some fresh milk. I enjoy a deep draught, while my henchmen join the nomads in devouring a meal—all eating from the one dish with curious wooden spoons.

“In the evening I set out to the well, about three miles away. I hear the bleat of goats and sheep, and the strident cries of herdsfolk, and know the flocks are coming in from pasture.

“Great dependence is placed upon the ability of the animals to follow familiar sound, and each flock-shepherd, usually a woman and two or three naked or scanty-ragged boys and girls, repeat a strung-out, modulating call, peculiar to themselves alone, and answered and obeyed only by the animals of that particular family—which is a great aid in keeping them together, and from mixing with others, in fenceless pastures.

“The region is appallingly vast, and I am conscious of admiration for the strange people who roam abroad over those boundless sands that hold only occasional grazings that neighbour the ground in wasted paleness.

“Approaching the well, I see that flocks are being watered; gathered in from fenceless wastesto slake their pressing thirst. They rest on the sand, waiting their turn to drink, while the slow process of drawing a bucketful of water at a time is laboured at by their owners. And all the while the insistent cries of weary, thirsty animals ring in the air.

A TUAREG WITH RIFLE AND EQUIPMENTBESIDE AN ABANDONED WHEAT URN IN NORTHERN AÏR

A TUAREG WITH RIFLE AND EQUIPMENT

BESIDE AN ABANDONED WHEAT URN IN NORTHERN AÏR

“A few camels stand about, but the greatest number of animals are goats and short-haired sheep—perhaps 100 to 150 in all, with an ass or two on the flanks, dejectedly aloof.

“The well has a place-name, and water, and, for the time being, a handful of nomads who keep to no permanent place of dwelling—that is all that it, and like places in the desert, hold to-day to justify a name on the map of Africa. Which is little indeed, until visualised against the blank, overpowering background of wilderness.

“My last look round is upon dead sand that holds no drop of moisture, and upon bleached grass and leafless tree, unfed from living roots; while lean-ribbed herds voice their plea for water, and nomad families gather to sleep under the blue sky with no more home than that offered by the shelter of their frail, wind-swept hutments.

“To the nomadic Tuaregs the environment is natural, and they know no better. Above all else they love their freedom, and hate the roof of permanent dwelling.”

And they are tolerably happy, if left to themselves, notwithstanding the suppressed melancholy that is an inherent characteristic of the race. One must know them well before they will express their moods of infinite sadness that lead toward brooding over their harassed life and the decadence of race and power.

If we, in Europe, with thoughts turned towards Africa, ever happen to view the new moon in May we can know that the people of Islam, in the remotest corners of the Sahara, have entered on the Thirty Days’ Fast ofRhamadan, when no one may eat before sunset; while on the first sight of the new moon of June it ends in the Feast ofBairam. That religious observation, strangely enough, is typical of the life of “The People of the Veil,” who throughout their walks of life have long associations with sadness and want, and intensified joy when they have the good fortune to reach a brief spell of plenty and peace of mind.

Be they soldiers of fortune, steel-girt travellers, or peacefully pastoral, the Sahara still remains theirs, despite the ravages of poverty and their dread of the encroachings of civilisation; and they share its mystery.

CHAPTER IXTHE HAND OF DOOM

Raliwas hard hit. The inscrutable reserve which was wont to give strength to his proud features had broken down.

A terrible thing had happened. In the night a powerful band of robbers from the north had swept through the camp of his tribe, and had captured and driven away many camels.

Only a month before the impoverished remnants of Rali’s band had moved south from the robber-molested mountains of Aïr to seek shelter and peace on the borders of bushland and desert in the territory of Damergou. But it had availed them nothing to seek to flee from the age-old oppression of a remorseless Destiny that pursued them.

Yet more had happened than met the eye, for Rali, chief of the band, was overwrought with grief, and this, of a man of his stamp, who had lived from boyhood in a wilderness of bandit warfare, and played with life as an easy hazard, surely told that the disaster of the night, terrible though it had been in general loss of property,held yet a deeper blow, to him, than appeared on the surface. And it was so. For, after the raid, it had been discovered that the robbers had carried off Kahena, the pale-faced wife of Rali, his bride of a few months, and belle of the tribe. And, whereas, to plunder camels is fair enough fortune of war in the remote and disturbed territories of the Sahara, to steal a man’s wife is an unpardonable offence.

For the moment Rali was bewildered and dazed by the blow that had fallen upon him.

But not for long would defeat overwhelm his proud and sensitive spirit. Verily he would awake. Like a creature of the wild, stung to blood-red anger, the time would come when he would seek his enemies—and kill!

For such is the law of the wilderness.

Months later, in a certain Tuareg camp on the edge of the desert, two men were engrossed in working out a sum upon the sand; in native fashion, marking out rows of double dots with imprint of the first two fingers of the right hand; then flicking out some portions of their handiwork when mutual consultation advised correction.

The men were Rali and his brother Yofa, and they were calculating the stages of a long journey. Their dark, hawk-like eyes, peering through the slit of their veils, glinted actively; and assuredly some great enterprise was afoot. At last the sumson the sand were swept out by a stroke or two of the hand, and the men arose.

“We have met on the tenth day of the moon which is calledTogaso,” said Rali. “If Allah is kind we shall reach the country of our enemies on the fourteenth day of the moon which is calledAssum.”

For months Rali had waited with that patience and will that are gifted to his race. Now it washis turnto move the pawn of breathless import that should win or lose a mighty stake in the gamble of life. Now, surely, his opponents had grown unwary, forgetful of the danger of being followed, and vigilance relaxed in confidence of their security behind tracks that had grown dim upon the sand, or obliterated by kindly elements of Time. Not now would the robbers guess that Rali had followed those self-same tracks while they were yet fresh to the vision, and had read there the riddle of the sands as clearly as scholar might read parchment. For two days he had followed them; afterwards he had stored in his mind the acute observations by which he hoped he would ultimately run the robbers to earth. He knew the tribe the robbers belonged to; knew each camel of the band should he ever cross their tracks again: marvellous observation and memory that are second nature to the tribes of the desert places, reared by the wayside of drifting sand and shepherds of camels from childhood.

It was evening. The sun, which had blazed down on the hot sand all day with the heat of afurnace fire, had dipped below the straight plain-edge of the horizon. For a fleeting moment the sand took on a ruddy glow, and, in the gracious, luminous light, even the soiled dress of the men and women of the bush-camp lost all shabbiness. Then the soft light died out, and it was almost night.

In the centre of the Tuareg encampment, of frail skin-covered gipsy shelters, three saddled camels were kneeling ready for a journey. Two awaited riders, the third was burdened with provisions; leather bags containing native food, and goatskins filled with precious water.

Presently Rali and Yofa, accompanied by a group of their friends, came up to the camels in readiness to depart. Both were fully armed with modern rifles and belts of ammunition. Solemnly the travellers bade good-bye to their comrades in camp. Then they swung easily into their saddles; and on the instant the camels felt touch of human hand they rose from the ground.

“Brothers, we depart,” cried Rali. “Tidings wing faster than the winds across the sands. See! we start south on the way to Kano, our tracks will lead in that direction and be lost. Hold fast our secret. Ere to-morrow we will turn about and speed north—and no stranger must know. In your salaams to the Rising Sun plead that Allah protect us. If life be spared we shall come back, bearing with us the beautiful Kahena, when the days are young in the moon which is calledGermuda.”

A BRIEF HALT

And the camels padded noiselessly off into the night: gaunt, moving objects that dwindled down to shadowy specks on the plain of sand—then disappeared.

The journey which Rali and Yofa set out upon, which they had reckoned would entail thirty-five days of incessant travel, held no great hardship for them. Their anxiety lay in the danger of it, the strain of constant watchfulness, the duty of following out to the end the elusive trail of the robbers, now old and faint and altogether blank in places.

“We have tracked the wild sheep of our mountains to their cool dark caves in the summits with only the pin-scrape of an odd hoof-slip on the hard rocks to guide us, and our fathers have followed the ill-fated caravans of our tribe when lost in the sandstorms of the desert until they have found the bleached bones and the resting-place of those who had perished. May the eyes of the vulture be given us, and the cunning of the jackal, so that we, in our great need, shall not fail.”

Thus spoke Rali, when they commenced to follow the trail of the robbers at the place where he had marked it months before, while it was yet fresh.

Slowly they tracked the trail onward, day after day, ever heading northward along the margins of wastes of sand that lay spell-bound in the grip of limitless silence.

One night they passed close under the great,darkly frowning mass of Baguezan, a prominent range in Aïr; and two days later found them east of the mountains, seeking the tracks in the sand while the sun went down in golden splendour behind the rugged peaks of Timia.

Later on, vague signs in the sand told them that the robbers had altered their course, and they swung westward into the mountain-land through the wide plain that trends toward the great Agoras river-bed.

Near its source they turned again northward.

They were now in a forsaken land that had once been the stronghold of their race throughout the hey-day of their power—stricken, deserted, northern Aïr, no longer harbouring living soul, no longer prospering in any way whatever.

Village after village they passed of tiny huts built from the stones of the mountains, and all stood grave and silent as tombs of the dead.

“The legends our mothers have taught us tell that we come of a great race,” said Rali. “And truly it was so. But a curse has fallen upon us with such merciless weight that, in our depression, we have come to believe that our race shall die until none remain.”

“Yes, brother,” answered Yofa. “I fear thou speakest truth. There are many kinds of misfortune, as there are many kinds of peoples on the earth; little peoples and great peoples. The incomprehensible purpose of destiny may single out any one of them, or any group of them, at anytime if they trend toward ill-advised and unhealthy disguise of the soul, which has been bequeathed to them, and, mayhap, they shall fade like the leaves of the forest, until they die. Thus, sometimes, to halt an evil that has escaped beyond the shores of restraint, a great blight doth fall, that spreadeth broadcast in the land, since the victims, in their self-confident security, do not see that it is among them, nor seek a remedy, nor hear the words of wisdom of the far-seeing wizards. Allah is strong, and we but as pebbles on the sand. They are there for a purpose, as we are here; when the purpose is past, or unduly transgressed, we shall be overcome and laid low, as drifting sand doth smother those stones.

“But every failure and every shortcoming hath remedy, if we search diligently to find it. And seldom doth hard struggle to ward off disaster go unrewarded. Wherefore blame is upon us, for we, as a race, are no longer great of will; we idle by our herds, we drift like grass seeds to and fro upon the desert, and we take not firm root anywhere in the soil. Yea, verily, we are drifting, ever drifting wherever soft winds blow.”

In answer to these words, and in conclusion, Rali stretched out his hand to embrace the landscape of noble, strong-featured mountains that encompassed them, and exclaimed:

“They, the once dearly loved hills of our forefathers, more fortunate than we, are immovable to the influence of sunshine or storm. We mayfalter in the conduct of our lives, and pass carelessly on; but they shall remain, for ever monuments to the land of our race, their purpose fulfilled, their infinite composure pointing calmness and resolution, yet offering neither reproof nor scorn upon the shortcomings of humanity.”

Thus spoke those grave Tuareg men, revealing the inherent melancholy of their race, and the remnants of nobility of character that spring forth like gleams of light on occasions of deep emotion, but quickly die out in the willy-nilly idling of careless, aimless lives. For in their camps the Tuaregs of to-day may be likened to the lizards on the stones by their hut-doors: creatures content to idle and bask in the sun, contemplative, perhaps, but making no great exertion to do aught but eat and sleep and exist at freedom in the languishing temperature of African climate.

Meantime, onward they journeyed, day after day; sometimes, night after night; sleuths with their eyes to the ground clinging to the slightest fragment of sign of the robbers’ old trail. No check, and they had many, could shake them from their purpose nor confuse their wonderful intelligence in tracking. Ever they held on, out into the wastes of sand, out into the Unknown, far beyond the limits of their territory. Whither they were going they knew not!Thatthe faint tracks at their feet alone could ultimately answer.

A band of Ehaggaran natives, engaged in tending to the grazing of their herds of goats and camels, were camped beneath the eastern slopes of the Ahaggar mountain-range near Tiririn, not vastly distant from Ghat, on the borders of the Fezzan.

In the cool of late afternoon the women were bestirring about the tasks of camp; voices floated softly into the great space of the surroundings; wood-smoke rose from freshly nourished camp-fires, untroubled by wind; and altogether the scene was pastoral and peaceful.

None would suspect that the camp sheltered bandits. Yet it is often thus that, mingled with the commonplace simplicity of rural atmosphere, gangs of robbers of the Sahara, when off the trail, live and protect themselves against discovery at the hands of unfriendly neighbours. Surrounded by peaceful occupation and circumspect behaviour, they live the routine life of their camps, their weapons of warfare carefully hidden, and all other traces of evil-doing; while they retreat behind a curtain of deceit, and cunning, and secrecy; in which they are past-masters. And, in this camp near Tiririn, behind the veil of placid scene, lay Kahena, the bride of Rali.

Among a group of congested hutments Kahena, her cotton shawl drawn closely about her features, was hidden in a dark chamber, free from bonds,but hourly watched over by the women of the robber band so that she should not endeavour to escape; though escape in such a wilderness, should she be desperate enough to attempt it, could only spell death.

Poor child! no longer had she the proud bearing of belle of her tribe. Distress and fear in long enduring her terrible position had left little of youth’s freshness and vigour, and she had come near to collapse and absolute surrender, though to this hour unsubmissive and fiercely antagonistic to the advances of her captors.

But her plight, and everything sinister in the inner life of the camp was, for the time being, securely hidden behind the disarming atmosphere of natural peacefulness of the scene.

But, of a sudden, a deep hush fell—and men, reclining idly on the sand by the huts, rose hastily to their feet and gazed to the south. Two travellers were approaching—a rare occurrence from such a quarter. Bezzou, chief of the village, tall and strong and good to look upon, yet with evil glint in his eyes, felt for the dagger in his sash. Like all men with blood upon their hands, he had twinges of conscience, and for one fleeting moment he showed his character and suspicions. But soon it was seen that the travellers were unarmed, and that no caravan followed behind them; and all misgivings were allayed.

With weary gait the camels of the travellers drew near to camp, their riders, dust-covered and careless,drooping forward over the high cross-heads of their saddles as if they dozed in excess of fatigue.

A SCENE IN AÏR

At the edge of the camp they ordered their camels to kneel, and wearily dismounted, to be greeted with the steely gaze of Bezzou and his men, which scrutiny they returned with equal rudeness and aloofness, as is the custom of the land when stranger meets stranger. After a few moments of eye-to-eye duel the travellers, without uttering a word, gave attention to their camels, removing the riding-saddles and the load, then hobbling the forefeet and turning them free to roll in the sand and search for grazing.

But, for all their travel-soiled, fatigued appearance, for all their seeming haughty indifference, those two men, little as it could be guessed, were, in reality, keyed up to the highest pitch of alertness—for the sleuths of the sand-trail had run their quarry to earth, and Rali and Yofa stood before their bitterest enemies—and well they knew their danger and need of courage.

In time Rali limped feebly forward and addressed himself to Bezzou in his own dialect:

“Chief of a strange people! to-night we would camp with thee! The seas of sand are wide between Kano and Tripoli, and voice of mankind is heard but seldom; and, sometimes, if he is heard, he is not a friend. See! I walk no longer like the gazelle. Six days ago we met foul robbers, who shot and chased us; but our camels are fleet offoot—and so we are here! But my leg, which is wounded, paineth me. I would have water to bathe it, and water to quench the thirst that sits sorely upon us both. I am a merchant; I have gift of cloth for thee if thou wilt bid men to serve our little wants.”

Now Bezzou had noted, with greedy eyes, the bale of merchandise that they carried, and it served his wishes of the moment that the stranger should tarry in his camp. Hence he answered:

“Welcome, wizard of travel! thou hast set out upon a long journey, like unto our forefathers who were wont to go to Mecca to kneel at the feet of the Prophet. Water shall be brought to you speedily, and food, and, wish ye aught else, speak that wish and it shall be granted!”

This request filled Rali with gladness, for it gave him the opening he sought. He had followed the old robber tracks near to this camp, but, as yet, knew not for certain if he had reached the end of his search. He had but one sure way to confirm his suspicions: he must see some of the camels belonging to the tribe, for he could recognise the footprints of any beast of the robber band the moment he cast eyes on them. Therefore he replied:

“I have one pressing need, O great and generous Chief! and it would be a providence of Allah if it could be granted. The camel which carries our merchandise is taken with dire sickness of the flesh, where resteth the pack-saddle, and I wouldfain purchase another, if camels thou hast for sale.”

To his request Bezzou answered: “I shall command that six beasts, fair to look upon, shall be brought before thee ere the sun setteth, and thou shalt choose from among them, provided thou shalt pay me in silver of the white men of Kano.”

“Verily, I shall pay thee in the silver of the white man,” agreed Rali, at the same moment catching a fleeting glint of covetousness in his benefactor’s eyes.

Whereupon they parted for a time, and Rali and Yofa drank deep of water, and sat down at a little distance from the camp, ostensibly to bathe the wound from which Rali suffered. But when the blood-stained rags which bound the limb were removed no wound was there. Rali could still walk or run with the freedom of the gazelle when need arose. But he replaced the discoloured rags, and groaned in seeming stiffness and as if in great pain.

Ere night camels were brought to Rali, so that he might purchase one. He was startled, almost to the extent of uttering an unwary exclamation, the moment he cast eyes upon them, for among them was one of the animals that had been stolen during the robber raid upon his tribe. However, he successfully suppressed all signs of recognition, and carefully inspected each animal in turn, bargaining over the price of them with the customary shrewdness expected of a merchant. To alleviate any lingering suspicion that might exist among thetribe concerning him, Rali was careful to take most interest in his own stolen camel, and he discussed it as an animal born and reared in the neighbourhood and entirely strange to him. And in the end it was this beast that he chose to select to purchase.

Meantime his keen eyes had not been idle, and he noted that two of the other animals made footprints in the sand exactly as they had been made months before on the robber trail. No fragment of doubt remained. He had tracked the bandits to their den.

But where was Kahena? Was Bezzou the leader of the band, as well as chief of the tribe? For, if so, it might be he to whom she had been allotted, to be one of his wives or slave women. He must plan to gain access to Bezzou’s dwelling. This mentally decided, he said:

“O generous Chief! this camel I shall take from thine herd when I go forth, but this day I shall pay thee silver of the white men of Kano in token of good faith. Anon, when thou hast feasted of the evening meal, if it be well advised, I shall come to thy door with bag of silver and gift of cloth.”

And Bezzou answered, with greed in his eyes: “It is well, friend. Come, and thou shalt be welcomed.”

Wherefore, in due time, when the shades of night had fallen, Rali limped to the door of the encampment of Bezzou, and was admitted.

The chief and two old councillors awaited him.They had been deep in evil plans, for Bezzou had already made up his mind that the harmless travellers, with their camels, and merchandise, and bags of silver, should never leave the camp alive.

SPELLBOUND IN THE GRIP OF LIMITLESS SILENCE

Rali made his generous gift of cloth to the chief, and, from a bag concealed in the folds of his garment, counted out the dole of silver which was the price of the camel he had purchased, the while he discussed, in voice pitched more high than usual, the small incidents of the journey and the hardships which he and Yofa had experienced by the way. He was fencing to disarm suspicion, fencing for time; hopeful that Kahena was near—even that she might catch the sound of his voice. In vain, when unobserved, his keen eyes roved over the hut in search of a clue.

Presently a woman entered from the rear bringing some wood for the fire that smouldered between stones on the floor. She was an Ehaggaran native, and, beyond one brief glance at her, Rali appeared indifferent to her presence. Yet, if one could have guessed it, his downcast eyes missed nothing. But vain was his covert inspection; her person revealed no clue of Kahena’s immediate presence; and his heart sank within him as she retired from the hut, for he had hoped that it might be otherwise.

Conversation had lagged, and Rali had risen to depart to his rest, when, with the curiosity of her sex, the woman re-entered on pretext of mending the fire, in reality to hear the parting words that passed between the stranger and her people.She was in the act of adding fuel to the fire, when Rali suddenly stumbled and emitted a smothered groan, as if from the pain of his wound.

“Brother! thou art unfit to travel further for the present,” exclaimed Bezzou, supporting him, and inwardly intent on his evil schemes. “Rest in this camp, where thou art welcome, until thou hast recovered.”

And, as he limped off to join Yofa in rest, Rali answered: “I thank thee, O great and generous Chief! Gladly will I stay here for a few days until this sickness of the evil one has passed.”

Once outside in the darkness, Rali’s features relaxed in strange grimace, half expressing satisfaction, yet shadowed with burning hatred. For what had happened, at the moment when he had appeared to be seized with pain, was that the woman, in the act of stretching out a thin arm from under cover of the folds of her shawl to nourish the fire, had exposed a metal bangle on her wrist that had once been the property of Kahena.

He joined Yofa at the edge of the encampment, and together they rolled themselves in their blankets and lay down side by side upon the sand. But not to sleep—for long they discussed the exciting incidents of the day and planned for the future in low whisperings.

Undoubtedly Kahena was in camp, or had been killed. If alive, how were they to effect her rescue and wreak revenge? for vengeance was almost as dear to them as the rescue of Kahena. Therewere many men in this camp, and for the present they appeared to have no occupation which took them far afield during day or night.

At last Rali, who shrewdly suspected that, if he did not act quickly, Bezzou, in his greed, would frustrate him by some treachery, proposed a daring plan, and, after much discussion of its inner details, it was agreed upon.

So that it came to pass that in the night Yofa crept from his sleeping-place and, with saddle and money-bags of Rali, set out across the sand to trace the grazing camels, so that he should mount and ride away in the direction of Ghat with all speed.

The first faint light of dawn was in the sky when Rali, in accordance with prearranged plans, sat up upon his couch upon the sand and gave the alarm.

Groans and curses escaped from him; he grovelled on the ground and cast sand upon his head; he cried aloud to Allah—and men came running from their hut doors to look upon him in consternation.

Seizing a staff, he limped, as if in excessive pain from his wound, to the huts of Bezzou, crying: “Infidel! Thief! Traitor! I am a ruined man!”

Espying Bezzou, he fell upon the ground before him, exclaiming: “O generous one! Canst thou assist me? Great evil has fallen. In the night my trusted servant, thrice cursed son of the faithless, has stolen from this camp, as jackal stealeth,bearing with him my bags of silver. Traitor! infamous traitor! and how am I to follow him, with this great sickness of limb upon me?”

Bezzou was alarmed, not on account of Rali’s distress, but because the coveted bags of silver had escaped from his grasp in a totally unexpected way. Sharply, without troubling to disguise his contempt of the supposed cripple, he gave orders to his men, and immediately shouts of haste and excitement stirred the camp to thorough wakefulness ere the full light of day was in the sky.

In no time camels were hurried in from grazing and a band of well-mounted men armed with rifles—which had appeared mysteriously from cunning places of hiding—streamed out of camp on the clear, fresh tracks of Yofa and urged their camels into a steady, ungainly run, while Bezzou alone stood aside and watched them go.

Meanwhile Rali lay upon his couch on the sand, fitfully groaning in pain and calling upon Allah to bring down curses on the head of the faithless one.

But, in time, general peacefulness settled on the camp as the morning advanced. One by one, the women departed in divers directions, driving their herds of goats before them to place of grazing, or set out to gather herbs or firewood.

In due course the hour had come for which Rali had planned and waited; and thereupon he rose slowly from his couch and limped painfully to the hutments of Bezzou.

Once there, he begged shelter from the sun of the old woman who answered his summons. But no sooner had he set foot indoors than his pitiful demeanour underwent startling change and he sprang with agility upon the woman to seize her in powerful grasp and force her to the ground, where he speedily gagged and bound her securely.

Sound of the scuffle disturbed Bezzou, who had been sleeping in an inner chamber, and he was in the act of entering the room to inquire the cause of it when Rali was upon him like a whirlwind with naked knife in his hand. Whereupon ensued a terrible combat, as the two strong men locked in grasp of deadly intent, and panted and struggled and staggered with the excessive strength of bitter hatred.

But Rali had the advantage of having taken his enemy by surprise, and gradually he improved his hold, until, suddenly, with one great effort, he freed his hand from the grasp of his powerful opponent, and buried his knife deep in Bezzou’s heart.

And, as he looked up from his exertions, Kahena stood in the doorway of the inner chamber with eyes filled with tears yet sparkling with gladness.

“Rali!” she cried softly, “last night I heard your voice; to-day I knew you would come.”

Without time for words of affection, Rali exclaimed:

“Quick, child! retire, seek some clothes of Bezzou’s women and change thy garb with allspeed and cover thy fair face well; the men of this camp, who have been enticed away in pursuit of Yofa, who came hither with me to seek thee, may return at any moment. Follow me outdoors when thou art disguised. I go to catch our camels.”

And, with parting glance of deep satisfaction upon the dead man who had sinned so deeply against him, Rali went forth from the hut, still calling, at intervals, his lamentations of misfortune so that no woman or child remaining in camp should suspect him of deceit.

Soon he had caught his camels, for Yofa had driven them near to camp before he had departed in the night. Slowly he brought them in and caused them to kneel under cover of a ruined hut so that he might saddle them unobserved. Then Kahena joined him, in strange clothes and carrying a bundle of wood, the very simplicity of her disguise making safe her passage through the camp.

But at last the services of disguise were unnecessary, and with bounding heart Rali lifted Kahena to her camel. A moment more, and they were speeding south.

About two hours later Rali halted the camels among some sand-dunes, while saddles were adjusted and they rested to partake of some dried dates which Rali produced from one of his leather saddlebags. He carried also a single skin of water, upon which they must depend for the next few days.

Before remounting Rali searched diligently in a sandy gully, then commenced to excavate; andwhen he stood upright again he carried two rifles in his hands. This was where Yofa and he had buried their arms before entering the camp of the strangers. He then proceeded to extract cartridges from a belt beneath his garment and fully loaded the weapons ere he hung them by their slings to his saddle-head.

WHEN DAY DAWNED THEY WERE IN A STRANGE LAND OF ROUGH, ROCKY HILLS

Two days went past of anxious, constant travel across ungiving desert. Then they reached the point where Rali had arranged that Yofa should rejoin him. But Yofa was not there, and Rali was much perturbed. “Faithful, courageous brother, who had deliberately undertaken to draw the whole hornet’s nest of robbers in chase of him; pray Allah no ill-merited fate had befallen him! Yet Yofa was tireless and skilled in travel, and his camel fleet of foot: why did he wait not here?”

Rali had grave misgivings that the worst had befallen his comrade. More serious thought still, if Yofa had been captured the robbers would have returned speedily to their camp, to discover his deceit and the flight of Kahena, and, at the moment, in all probability, they were following the incriminating tracks in the sand.

That night Rali dared not camp, and wearily but surely he picked his way in the dark, ever onward, ever nearer to the mountains of Aïr.

Another uneventful day passed, and then, terribly exhausted, in particular Kahena, at risk of being overtaken, they lay down at night to sleep, whilethe hungry camels were hobbled and turned away to snatch what pickings they could find in plant-starved, ungenerous surroundings.

Next morning, as they hurried on southward, the northern ranges of Aïr loomed in sight, at first low and smoke-blue on the distant horizon; thereafter ever growing in dimensions and solidity as the interval lessened between the fugitives and the ancient land of their race, which offered a measure of protection.

Alas! just when hope of successful escape appeared to be materialising, Rali, who had always been casting anxious glance behind, saw at last that which he dreaded to see—a cloud of dust rising faintly on the horizon. But he said not a word of this discovery to Kahena, and thereafter gave all his attention to urging the camels onward.

But by noon he could deceive her no longer, for the small dust-cloud had grown larger and unmistakable, and eyes might almost discern the raiders that were overtaking them.

“Kahena! fair and delicate flower of the desert,” he said, “thou art fashioned to flourish in sunny nooks where peace doth reign and foul winds of strife pass by thee, but to-day thou art a thing uprooted and shalt need be brave and worthy of thy name; for look! the robbers are close upon us.” Whereupon Rali turned in his saddle and pointed to the growing dust-cloud.

“Pray, child,” he cried, “that Allah hinder them until we reach the mountains,” and he urged thecamels onward, sparing not the jaded animals in his need.

A race against time ensued—a tense, terrible race, nerve-trying, beast-killing.

Hours slipped past, bringing nearer the goal of the fugitives, and promise of nightfall, while the dust-cloud of the remorseless robbers gained in volume behind them. Gradually, the chase became so hot that hours gave place to precious minutes, and Kahena called aloud to Allah and cried in fear to Rali under the extremity of the wild, mad race to shelter.

But, at last, the harbouring hills were reached, and Allah be praised, ere the robbers came in full view, the darkness of night laid merciful cloak before the eyes of desperate men. For the moment they were safe.

But Rali realised that safety would be short-lived. He now knew that Yofa had failed before the prowess of the robbers, and was either captive or killed; and he felt that the net of his own fate was closely about him.

The words he had once spoken to Yofa came back to him with vivid clearness, and under his breath he repeated them: “A curse has fallen upon us. It is willed that the race shall die, until none remain.”

Casting aside such sad thoughts, he turned gently to Kahena, and brought her a small portion of water and dates and bade her eat and rest while he unsaddled the camels and turned them free for ever.

Presently he gently woke Kahena, for the exhausted girl had quickly fallen asleep, and bade her follow him while he commenced, carefully and skilfully, to climb upward among the huge awkward boulders and rocks of the bare slopes of Tamgak.

Thus they laboured through the night, and when day dawned they were on the mountain summit in a strange land of rocky hills.

And there they hid in a cave among pitfalls of boulders, and Rali bade the exhausted Kahena sleep while he set all the food and water that remained to them by her side. Then he started back to the mountain edge so that he might reach a point of vantage from whence to spy upon the robbers by the light of day.

Presently he was in a position to look down upon the land beneath; and he espied the camels of the robbers feeding in the valley where his tracks in the sand had been lost among the rocks at the mountain base. By and by, he heard voices half-way up the mountain-side. Cautiously shifting his position, he made out five of the robber band, scattered in different directions, searching keenly for track of him. But the grave old mountain told not her secrets as the tell-tale sands of the plains, and for some time Rali watched the robbers search without success, and heard them exchange curses of bitter disappointment. Whereupon he returned softly to the cave that sheltered Kahena, and sat hidden in the black darkness of it with rifle upon his knee, knowing that in time the baulked desperadoeswould climb to the summit and persevere in their search.

TOMBS ON THE DESERT

Slowly the day passed, while Kahena slept heavily, and Rali watched—and no grim figure darkened the entrance of their hiding-place. Once footsteps had been heard to grate on the hard rocks outside, as someone searched among the dark recesses of the disordered maze of fallen boulders. But, after drawing perilously near, the dreaded sound had slowly receded and died out.

Late in the evening Rali ventured from hiding and found the mountain summit deserted, while in the valley beneath he saw the lights of the camp-fires of the robbers. Whereupon, weak though he now was from want of sleep and the prolonged strain of superhuman exertions, he set out anxiously to search for water so that he and Kahena might drink thereof and live.

Long into the night he searched, but in vain he went, with ever-increasing sinking of heart, from one barren channel to another, and found not that which he sought among those sun-parched hills of terrible poverty. In the end he wearily retraced his steps to the cave that sheltered Kahena.

But the wild wolves of Fate were now close upon him, inevitably bearing him down as he had foretold, and he returned from his fruitless search for water to find Kahena in the grip of raging fever.

Poor child! the terrible strain of the race for freedom had been too great: and ere the night was advanced she died in the arms of Rali. While he,unaware of this final catastrophe, in merciful sleep of utter exhaustion, crouched beside the still maid of his love, from whence life had for ever flown.

And in the morning he woke not. For two tired spirits had sped on the perpetual winds which sweep to the uttermost corners of the land and catch up the fallen fragments of the universe to bear them hence.

Skeletons among the rocks, a few wasted fragments of clothing, a riddled water-skin; and the reminiscent words of a Tuareg companion, when I chanced upon the remains, set me to piece together the threads of this story.—Author.

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