I had often wondered, in thinking upon the subject, how the Professor would be again enabled to locate with any degree of accuracy the buried treasure, situated as it was in a barren spot where the sand drove over it with every breeze. So now I watched him curiously as he dismounted at the palms and, drawing a line from one of the trees to another, seemed to pick out a star straight ahead to guide him and began pacing his way regularly over the desert. He gained an absolute regularity of pace in an amusing and ingenious, yet simple manner, attaching a cord from one of his ankles to the other, after carefully measuring its length. Consequently all his paces were mathematically equal, or could vary but slightly.
The rest of us followed him silently. I tried at first to count the number of paces, but from my high seat presently lost track of the count. But I had no idea it would matter to us; we should never be likely to visit this weird spot a second time.
At last the Professor came to a sudden halt and held up his hand. We leaped from our camels without waiting for them to kneel and two of our sailors promptly produced shovels from their panniers and began to dig in the spot the Professor indicated. They worked with steady industry, you may be sure, and we took turns relieving them at the task, for shoveling sand is by no means an easy job.
After going a certain depth without finding the granite slab we began making our pit wider, and within an hour a shovel wielded by Bryonia bounded back with a metallic sound that told us the search had finally been successful.
While the men quickly cleared away the remaining sand, disclosing three bronze rings imbedded in an oblong slab of granite, I could not help marveling at the Professor’s cleverness in locating the spot so accurately after several weeks of absence.
“It is a matter of simple mathematics,” he explained, while he watched the sand fly with eager eyes. “The only thing that could interfere with my calculations would be the removal of the palm trees. But I did not fear that, as they are centuries old.”
The big stone was now cleared of sand. The three sailors and Ned Britton stooped and put their shoulders to the slab, raising the ponderous weight slowly but surely until it stood upright on its edge. Then the Professor knelt down and with nervous haste threw out the padding of dried rushes and the thick layers of rotted mummy cloth that covered the contents of the vault.
Now, more gently, he began removing a number of bandaged cylinders, something like eighteen inches long and six inches in diameter. These, I supposed, were the rolls of papyrus bark that told the history of that dark period of Egypt between the Sixth and Twelfth Dynasties. From the tenderness with which Van Dorn handled these rolls—which he rewrapped in new canvas, sealed securely and then handed to Ned to be placed in one of the panniers—I had no doubt he considered them the most valuable and important part of the treasure. There were sixteen rolls; all of them, according to our bargain, Van Dorn’s personal property. After these had been cared for the Professor threw aside another layer of bandages and then, at last, the more tangible wealth of the powerful priests of Karnak was revealed to our wondering eyes.
Under the dim stars we could see the sparkle of many rich jewels and the gleam of a vast store of golden vases, exquisitely worked; of many chains, bracelets and other ornaments; of pearls and precious stones. Indeed, the pit seemed full of the queer and valuable things.
Van Dorn did not pause an instant to admire this gorgeous sight. He took one of the canvas sacks which Ned handed him and began filling it with the jewels. It was difficult to see just what they were, but the Professor took all that came to his hand and soon had filled the sack. He tied its mouth securely and brought out his sealing wax. When he lighted a match to melt the wax its rays illumined the pit, and I drew a deep breath of wonder at the splendor that met my eyes.
“Ah; treasure!” said a soft voice beside me.
Startled, we all sprang up at the words and found squatting beside the pit the form of the withered Bega chief, Gege-Merak.
The Professor gave a cry of positive terror, and before it was well out of his throat Ned Britton had made a leap and pinioned the chief to the ground with the weight of his huge form.
We were all greatly startled; and dismayed, as well, for it seemed that in spite of all our precautions Gege-Merak had spied upon us and the secret of the treasure now extended to him—the most uncomfortable confederate, from our standpoint, we could possibly have gained. Already an enemy, and more powerful in this country, his own, than we were; animated by the unscrupulous cupidity of his race and reckless—as his people are—of any consequences that follow lawless acts, Gege-Merak was the last person we would have chosen to share our important secret. The worst feature of the whole matter was that we ourselves were defying the laws of Egypt in stealthily removing this vast hoard, hidden by Egyptian priests long before the present rulers had ever set foot in the land. If the government suspected our act we should all be summarily imprisoned.
No doubt the Bega chief knew very well our predicament, and that we could not appeal to the authorities whatever injury he might inflict upon us; so he would be inclined to fight us for the possession of the treasure, if any dependence could be placed upon the native character. If we tried to compromise, then a large share of our find must go to Gege-Merak; but he was not likely to be satisfied with a little.
These thoughts doubtless flashed across every mind in the pause that followed Ned’s capture of the spy. I know, anyway, that they passed rapidly through my own mind, and appalled me.
Two of the sailors had sprung forward to assist the mate, and now they produced several lengths of cord from their pockets—every sailor carries such things—and the chief was soon fast bound and laid upon the sand a few paces away. One of the sailors was left sitting beside him as a guard.
While the Professor nervously continued to fill the canvas bags from the pit and to seal each one securely, we counselled together in whispers as to the best method of dealing with Gege-Merak. The sailors and Bryonia loaded the sacks into the panniers of the camels, which were strongly woven of rushes, as fast as they were filled and sealed, and still the pit seemed to contain as many jewels and precious stones as had been removed. We began to tremble with a realization of the hugeness of the treasure, and to understand that in spite of our ample provision to carry it, some must be left behind. But that meant turning it over to the chief, who now knew its location, unless——
“Gege-Merak must die!” growled the little Professor, through his teeth. His face was pale and his eyes were glittering with excitement.
Some of us breathed deeply; but none made reply in words. I dreaded the necessity as much as any one could, but saw clearly that the chief’s death was inevitable. It meant not only our protection, but perhaps our salvation. We were now burdened with too vast a store of wealth to be safe on the desert for a single moment, if Gege-Merak was to be at large to dog our steps.
We now implored the Professor to return the papyrus rolls to the cavity and take instead more of the treasure; but Van Dorn obstinately refused.
“It is my own share, and you have agreed I should take it,” said he. “There are millions in gold and precious gems, besides; isn’t that enough to satisfy you?”
“But this may be our last chance at the treasure,” replied Uncle Naboth, anxiously.
The Professor gave him a queer look. It seemed defiant and half threatening, but a moment later he dropped his head to resume his work.
“That’s nonsense,” he snapped, wrathfully. “The stuff has lain here for ages, and what we now leave will remain in safety until we can come again—unless we give Gege-Merak a chance to grab it. We mustn’t do that, gentlemen. If the chief lives he will never allow us to reach the ship again; you may be sure of that. We’ve had evidence already of his grasping disposition. It’s our lives against his, now, and we must not hesitate to save ourselves.”
“Bring the chief here, Cunningham,” called Uncle Naboth, peering through the gloom where our sailor sat upon the sand guarding his prisoner.
Cunningham did not move, and Uncle Naboth called again. Then Joe ran across to him, bent over, and gave a cry that raised us all to our feet in an instant.
“The man’s dead!” he shouted. “Gege-Merak is gone!”
It was true enough. The wily chief had managed to slip his bonds and plunge a knife to the heart of his unsuspecting guard before he crawled away into the night and escaped.
We were horrified at the disaster. Our fears had now become realities, and as we looked gravely into one another’s eyes under the dim stars we realized that our lives were in deadly peril.
“You’re a lot of clods—of duffers—of fools!” screamed the Professor, stamping the ground in furious rage. “You deserve to die for being so clumsy; you deserve to lose the treasure you are not clever enough to guard! Bah! to think I have leagued myself with idiots!”
Archie grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a good shaking.
“Shut up, you red-whiskered ape!” he said, menacingly. “Keep a civil tongue in your head, or I’ll skin you alive!”
We were all irritated and unnerved, and I tried to quiet both Archie and Van Dorn, and to bring them to a more reasonable frame of mind.
“It’s no use crying over spilt milk,” said I. “Let’s face the peril like men, and do our best to get the treasure safely to the ship. Even if Gege-Merak gets the rest, we have a fortune already.”
“He’ll get that, too,” groaned the Professor. “The chief has more cunning than the whole crowd of you.”
The two camels were now heavily loaded with the sealed canvas sacks containing the treasure and the library of historic papyri. We next strapped the four panniers to the two beasts—one on either side of each camel—and Van Dorn with the remainder of his wax smeared the buckles so that if the panniers were opened or tampered with we should speedily know the fact. He did not trust us wholly, it seemed, nor did we fully trust him. The man had been acting ugly of late, and the fact that we had no chance to examine any of the treasure we had so quickly thrust into the sacks made it necessary that the seals remain intact until we could open them in safety and in each other’s presence.
Having now secured all of the ancient deposit of wealth that we could carry, we held a solemn conference to determine our future movements. The Professor, who had calmed down somewhat but was still sullen, admitted that with proper caution we might find our way back to Koser over the same route by which we had come. The only puzzling part of the trail was that which lay through the intricate passes of the Hammemat mountains, and we were willing to chance finding the right path because we had no option but to undertake the risk. From being our guide Gege-Merak had now become our most dreaded foe. We were better armed than the chief’s band, and outnumbered it, although three of our party were only boys. Aside from an ambush or an unexpected addition to the chief’s party we might hope to hold our own against him in a declared warfare.
If we could have started at once on our return journey our chances of reaching theSeagullin safety might have been better; but it was necessary for Archie to visit Luxor and deliver his father’s goods to the merchants who had ordered them, and to receive payment on delivery. This necessitated a delay which could not be avoided even under the present trying circumstances.
Van Dorn assured us that by morning we could plainly see the outlines of Karnak and Luxor across the desert, and he said the journey could be made in three hours. If Archie started at daybreak he could reach Luxor in time for breakfast and by concluding his business as soon as possible ought to be able to rejoin our party by noon.
But Archie did not relish going alone upon this mission, and I had grown to like the young fellow so well that I offered to accompany him. It was decided all of us should move around the base of Tel-Ambra, after concealing every trace of our visit to the pit, and there encamp to await our return from Luxor.
We had to bury poor Cunningham in the sand; but we dug him a deep grave and wrapped him in two blankets in lieu of a proper coffin. The stone having been dropped to cover the cavity and the sand piled in and smoothed above it, we marched across to Tel-Ambra and came to a halt well on the other side of it. Here we speedily made camp and appointed Bryonia and Ned Britton to watch while we lay down to sleep.
I was so excited by the occurrences of the night that I could not compose myself to slumber for some time, but lay awake and watched Van Dorn, who, also restless, paced up and down in the sands apparently in deep thought. He had grown moody and unsociable, and since his violent exhibition of temper I had come to dislike him more than ever.
When dawn came creeping over the desert I sprang up and aroused Archie. The others were mostly awake, I found, and while we munched a little food Joe came to me and begged to travel to Luxor in our company.
Ned Britton, who had now assumed military command of our party, thought there would be no greater danger to the others and more safety to Archie and me if Joe accompanied us; so Uncle Naboth’s consent was obtained and we three mounted our camels and set off at a brisk pace toward Luxor, the outlines of which city the Professor pointed out.
The morning air of the desert was crisp and invigorating, and so fresh were our camels that in two and a half hours we reached the Karnak road and soon after clattered into the streets of Luxor.
It is an odd town, a mingling of the modern and ancient. On the bank of the Nile stands the ruin of the great temple so famous in history, its many rows of lotus-capped columns rising toward the sky in magnificent array. Beside the monster temple is a litter of mud huts; across the way is the wall surrounding the fine modern Hotel Luxor, and against this wall on all sides are rows of booths occupied by the Greek, Syrian, and Arab merchants as bazars.
When we arrived and inquired for the merchants with whom Archie was to deal, we found their shops still closed; so we entered the grounds of the hotel, left our camels at the stables, hired a dray to fetch Archie’s boxes from the railway station, and then treated ourselves to a good breakfast served in civilized fashion. By the time it was finished the boxes were waiting in a cart outside, and the merchants, we found, had arrived at their shops and were anxious to examine the goods.
We realized the necessity of making haste and so accepted the invitation of a Syrian dealer to open our boxes in a big vacant room back of his bazar. We admitted only the two men who had ordered the goods, although a group of curious natives wished to enter with us, and soon Archie, Joe, and I had the cases open and the goods spread out for examination.
The Syrian and his fellow merchant, a gray-bearded Greek, gravely inspected and approved the clever imitations of ancient scarabs, charms, figures, urns, and the like, that had been “made in America” to deceive American tourists in Egypt; but when Archie demanded to be paid the price agreed upon they both demurred, claiming the trinkets were not worth the sum asked.
Archie was indignant and threatened to box up the goods again and ship them to Cairo; and then began the inevitable bargaining that is so tedious but necessary in dealing with the Egyptians.
While my friend, who proved no unskillful bargainer, was engaged in this occupation I chanced to glance toward the one dirty window in the place and saw a man standing outside who instantly riveted my attention. He was tall and stately, with a calm, handsome face and steady eyes, and while he gazed in upon us it suddenly flashed across me that I had seen this Arab before—standing on the quay at Alexandria and staring at theSeagullas we had sailed out of the harbor.
Yes; it was indeed Abdul Hashim, the Professor’s most bitter enemy; and as this fact was revealed to me I remembered the peril of our friends awaiting us on the desert and turned impatiently to Archie to ask him to hasten.
As I spoke the eyes of the Arab outside turned toward mine and, perhaps seeing my glance of recognition, he turned and disappeared.
“Archie,” I said in a low voice, “for heaven’s sake end this squabbling. Too much depends on our prompt return to quarrel over a few beastly piasters.”
He seemed to realize this, for he quickly closed with the offers of the merchants and they paid him the sum he had agreed to take in English bank notes and gold. While the money was being counted out I saw Abdul Hashim again at the window, his greedy eyes feasting upon the money; and this made me more nervous than before. I quickly made my way outside and moved around to the window, but the Arab had disappeared and I failed to find him in any of the neighboring streets.
I told Archie and Joe of my discovery, and that Abdul Hashim had seen us receive the money. The tale alarmed my friends, but after a moment’s thought Archie decided what to do. We went at once to Cook’s banking office, which was in the hotel building, and there Archie exchanged his gold and notes for a draft on the bank’s American correspondents, for the full amount. The paper he placed in his stocking, flat on the sole of his foot, and then he drew on his boot with a sigh of relief.
“If it is stolen,” said he, “no one can cash it but my father; but I’d like to see the Arab or Bega clever enough to find the draft where I’ve hidden it. Come on, boys; we’re free now; so let’s hurry back to our party and the treasure.”
The camels had been watered and fed by the hotel attendants, and we hastened to mount them and start on our return journey. As we left the town it was a little after eleven o’clock, for much valuable time had been consumed in settling Archie’s business.
“But it’s what I came to Egypt for,” said he, “and father would be wild if I neglected the business he sent me on, even to get a share of that treasure. As it is I’m afraid he’ll think me a poor hand at a bargain, to take less than was agreed upon.”
“There’s no trusting to the word of these native merchants,” I remarked, as we sped away over the sands. “How much did you manage to get for that rubbish, Archie?”
“About twenty-five hundred dollars. But I ought to have had three thousand.”
“And what did it cost to make the stuff?” I inquired, curiously.
“Oh, the material is mostly mud, you know; but the molds and the workmanship are expensive. With the freight and my own expenses added, the finished product cost us nearly nine hundred dollars.”
“Not a bad deal, then,” said I, with a laugh. “Your father will find himself a bit richer, anyhow.”
“But think of what those rascally merchants will make!” he exclaimed indignantly. “The scarabs, which cost them about half a cent each, they’ll sell for twenty piasters—and that’s a whole dollar!”
“Say, boys,” observed Joe, quietly, “we’re being followed.”
We turned quickly in our saddles at this startling news, and a glance told us Joe was right. Coming toward us in a cloud of dust, from the direction of Luxor, were several camels and donkeys. Already they were near enough for us to see that they were ridden by a band of Arabs, who were urging the animals to their best speed.
We pricked up our camels with the sharpened sticks provided for that purpose, and with groans of protest the supple beasts threw out their hoofs and fairly flew over the sands.
Far ahead we could see the outlines of Tel-Ambra standing clear against the blue sky, and toward this we headed, for our friends would be there awaiting us.
Our pursuers also redoubled their pace, and it became a set race in which only the endurance of our animals was of importance. The camels we rode were among the best of Gege-Merak’s herd, and we saw with satisfaction that they could easily keep the distance between ourselves and the Arabs.
Gradually the mound grew nearer and we strained our eyes to discover Uncle Naboth and his party, who should be near its base. Perhaps they were on the other side, and had not observed our approach. The quick pace was beginning to tell on our camels, which all breathed heavily; but on we dashed at full speed, for the remaining distance was short.
We reached the base of the hill, skirted it without slacking rein, and then with a sense of dismay realized that we were alone upon the desert—save for that grim and relentless band following in our wake.
Uncle Naboth, the Professor, Ned Britton, the sailors and Bry—even the camels with the treasure—had all been swallowed up by the mysterious waste of sands.
And now we three boys, left to our fate, must show the mettle we were made of. We halted our panting camels, backed them against a rocky cliff of Tel-Ambra, and hastily unslung our repeating rifles.
“Don’t let us be captured without a struggle, boys,” I exclaimed.
“We’ll fight while there’s a bullet left or a breath in us,” responded Archie, promptly.
“All right, fellows, if you say so,” said Joe, strapping on his cartridge belt; “but it seems to me you’re making a mistake.”
“How so?” I asked, rather indignantly.
“Look at them,” said Joe. The Arabs had halted just out of range, but we could count their numbers now. “There are about twenty of the rascals, and they’re all armed. We can’t hope to beat them in a fight. We can kill a few, of course, but they’ll down us in the end. And what then? Why, they’ll be mad as hornets, and want revenge. It’s natural. But as it now stands we are not the enemies of these heathens, as I can see, having had no dealings with them. I understand they want to rob us, for they think we’ve got the money those merchants paid Archie—that beast Abdul Hashim is at the head of them. But if we submit quietly to being searched they won’t find any money and they’ll scarcely dare kill us for disappointing them.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Archie, eyeing the foe fiercely. “I’ve heard Van Dorn say these Arabs will kill a Christian as calmly as they’ll eat a dinner. They think a good Mahommedan will gain paradise by killing an infidel dog. And besides that, if they try to rob us and then let us go our ways, they’ll be afraid we will make trouble for them with the police. No, Joe; it’s robbery they mean first, and murder afterward; you can rely upon that.”
“Maybe so, sir,” answered Joe. “But I was just looking for our one chance. To fight means sure death; to give in quietly means a hope for life—not a great hope, sir, but one just big enough to hang your hat on. If you say fight, I’m with you. If you say be foxy and try diplomacy, I’ll like it better.”
“Humph!” said I, partly convinced. “Perhaps Joe’s right.”
“I’m sure he is,” responded Archie, frankly. “But I hate to see those beggars down us so easily.”
“Discretion is the better part of valor,” I quoted, pompously; yet I longed to fight, too.
“We aren’t giving in, fellows,” declared Joe; “we’re just playing our best cards in the game, and it isn’t our fault if we don’t hold all trumps. Come on; don’t let’s act like cowards, or even whipped curs. Let’s go to meet them—and, say, put up your rifles. We won’t show any force, but try to smile and look pleasant.”
The Arabs had been conversing together, evidently trying to decide how to attack us. They knew if they came within range of our rifles some of them would be shot down, and since they now had us safely snared they might take time to figure out the problem.
Had there been any hope of our overtaking our friends I should have advised keeping the Arabs at bay as long as possible. But as far as the eye could reach, in every direction, the desert was deserted save by the two groups at Tel-Ambra. What, I questioned, anxiously, could have induced my uncle and Ned Britton to desert us? Such an act was wholly unlike them, and there must indeed have been a powerful reason behind it. At present it was all a profound mystery to us, and we had no time to make an attempt to unravel the web.
Thinking Joe’s counsel good, in the circumstances, we started our camels and advanced leisurely toward the Arabs. They were startled at first, expecting a fight; then, as they saw our rifles slung over our shoulders, they became puzzled by our audacity and amazed at our boldness. But they stood in a motionless group awaiting our approach, and as we drew near to them I, being slightly in advance of the other two, said in a voice which I strove to render calm:
“Good day, gentlemen. Can you tell us the way to the village of Laketa? I’m afraid we’ve missed the trail.”
The Arabs looked at us stupidly a moment, and then Abdul Hashim spurred his donkey—a strong, thin limbed beast—toward me and touched his turban. His gesture indicated respect, but his steady eyes were as unfathomable as a pool at midnight.
“The blessing of Allah be thine, Effendi,” said he. “What is your errand at Laketa?”
“To rejoin the rest of our party,” I answered confidently.
“Ah, yes; your party from the ship, with the red-bearded jackal Van Dorn at their head,” he said, with a flash of resentment as he mentioned the Professor.
“You are wrong in one thing,” said I, calmly. “Naboth Perkins, my uncle, heads the party.”
“Why try to deceive us, Effendi?” asked Abdul Hashim, in a sterner tone. “You take me for a fool, it seems; and a fool I am not. You would not be here—you could not be here—unless led by the red-beard, who is a dog and a traitor to his masters.”
“I don’t answer for Van Dorn,” I replied, with a shrug. “It seems you know the Professor, and don’t like him; but I’m sure that is none of our business. All we ask of you is the favor of a courteous direction to Laketa. If you will not give this, we must proceed without it, and find the place the best way we can.”
I had observed that as we conversed the band of Arabs had crept around our group, slowly encircling us in all directions, so that now they fairly hemmed us in. Also their long rifles were in their hands and their belts were stuck full of pistols and knives. The party had been formed for warfare, without a doubt.
Although noting all this I endeavored to appear unconcerned as I awaited the sheik’s reply.
The latter smiled rather grimly and said:
“We will indeed be your guides, young sirs; but not to Laketa. Forgive me if I ask for your companionship until you have told us all I wish to know.”
“And what is that, Abdul Hashim?” I asked boldly.
“You know my name?”
“Of course. We knocked you down that evening we rescued Van Dorn from your clutches in Alexandria, and he told us your history. The Professor wanted us to kill you; but we refused. Perhaps you remember that?”
“I remember that I owe my life to my own skill, and not to your mercy.” He expressed himself in excellent English, for an Arab. But the English have occupied Egypt for so long that nearly all the natives have learned to speak or at least understand our language.
“You have not told me what it is that you wish to know,” I said, impatiently.
He looked me over with a thoughtful expression and proceeded to examine each of my comrades, in turn. Then he said, abruptly:
“You will come to my village.”
At once the Arabs began to move forward, and we, being surrounded, were forced to accompany them. They were an evil appearing lot, dirty and hungry looking, and I did not doubt that any one of them would murder us with much satisfaction, merely for the pleasure of killing.
As for Abdul Hashim himself, I began to perceive he was a character, and one worth studying in other circumstances. Never have I seen more handsome features on any man, but they were as immobile as if carved from marble. Any expression you might read showed in his eyes, which he could not control so well as he did his face. Usually they were calm as those of the sphinx, but at times they flashed evilly—nay, even with a gleam of madness in them—and always they were cruel and terrible in their aspect. In civilized countries a man like this would be greatly dreaded; here he was an insignificant sheik, with a handful of followers too degraded to be of any importance.
We passed around Tel-Ambra to the left and headed for the small group of rude stone huts which the Professor had sighted the night before and had aroused in him such violent emotions. The place was not far distant from the three ancient palms, and as we rode along I glanced over the desert to try to discover the spot where the treasure was hid; but the endless, undulating sands refused to reveal their secret. Indeed, the brisk morning breeze appeared to have smoothed away every trace of our night’s work.
Abdul Hashim said little until we reached his village, which had hastily been rebuilt after the police had demolished it. Even before then it must have been a miserable affair; now it was scarce worthy the name of village, or suitable for mortal habitation. Doubtless the only object of a settlement at this place was to waylay travelers who crossed the desert from the Red Sea, and I could conjecture without much chance of going wrong that robbery had been the only means of livelihood for its inhabitants.
Entering a narrow street we were told to dismount in front of the most important hovel the place contained. We obeyed because we could not well do otherwise. Abdul Hashim personally ushered us into the dwelling, and as we entered the Arabs slily cut the straps of our rifles and took the weapons from us. We dared not resent this insult, but though we made no protest in words we were angry enough when we turned to face the sheik, who alone had entered with us.
The room consisted of four bare stone walls of uneven height, only a portion of the inclosed space being roofed or thatched with palm branches. Slabs and blocks of stone lay around in all directions, as if the work of restoring the walls was still incomplete. In one corner a black goat with a white spot over one eye lay asleep in the shade, and a rude bed of palm leaves stood underneath the thatch.
“Now,” began our captor, in a brusk tone, “let us come to an understanding, if you will. Yougidân[2]must tell me all that I wish to know, or I will put you to sleep forever. But first I will tell you what I already know. It is this: The red-bearded jackal you call Van Dorn was formerly the slave of a wise explorer named Lovelace Pasha, who was my friend. Lovelace Pasha sought for buried treasure in the desert, and I gave him my assistance in return for his promise to give me and my people a share of the treasure, if he found where it lay. This Lovelace was a real effendi—a gentleman—and always to Abdul Hashim a true friend.
“One night he found the treasure, and with him at the time were two of my tribe—one being my own brother—and the slave Van Dorn. Lovelace Pasha took a few jewels and started to return to my village, but the discovery had driven Van Dorn mad. He shot my men and killed them, and would have shot Lovelace Pasha had he not caught and held the red-beard and wrenched the pistol from his grasp. So my friend bound Van Dorn with ropes and brought him to my village, with the sad news of the crime he had committed. Also Lovelace Pasha showed me the jewels which he had taken, and said there was much treasure to divide and that I should have my share according to the compact, as I had been faithful to him.
“My people,gidân, do not take vengeance upon those whom Allah has smitten with madness; so we did no harm to Van Dorn. Lovelace Pasha declared the fellow was without mind or reason, but offered to care for him until the morning, as he did not fear him. So he took him into his house and my village went to sleep.
“In the morning we found that another great crime had been committed. Van Dorn had broken his bonds, stabbed Lovelace Pasha to the heart, robbed him of the jewels, and escaped to Luxor. With him he carried the secret of where the treasure lay hid, and too late we gained the knowledge that the red-beard was not mad, as one without reason, but merely mad to gain all the treasure for himself and willing to kill and defy all who stood in the way of his gaining the vast store his master had discovered. For, mark the cunning of the miserable thief, Effendi: this Van Dorn told the police that I and my people had murdered the great Lovelace Pasha, and the governor, believing him, sent a strong force to my village and destroyed it, declaring me and all my tribe outlaws.
“Thus did the jackal add to his crimes and prove he was not afflicted of Allah, but by the devil of the Christians. And, tell me, would a Christian, even, love him after this?
“I followed him secretly to Alexandria and with some friends to assist me was about to capture Van Dorn and make him lead us where the treasure is hid, when he cried out in fear and your party came to his rescue. Again he escaped me, for you took him aboard your ship and sailed away. I watched you, and feared that my revenge and the secret of the treasure were both lost to me. Then I remembered the jackal’s slyness, and knew that some time he would return to secure the wealth that was hid in the sands near to my village. So I came home to watch for him, yet I did not expect him to act so soon. In Luxor I saw you and recognized the fact that you belonged to the ship in which Van Dorn had sailed away. They told me you had ridden your camels in from the desert, therefore I knew you had followed the trail from the Red Sea. It was all plain enough, with a little thought. I got my men together and followed you, as you know.”
The sheik paused. He had spoken earnestly and well, and his story bewildered us because we had until now believed in the plausible tale the Professor had told us. If Abdul Hashim’s relation was true the little Professor was indeed a diabolical scoundrel; and I had a secret conviction that a part of it, at least, was to be believed rather than Van Dorn’s version. But was not Abdul Hashim also a scoundrel and thief? You had but to look at the fellow to doubt that there was an honest hair in his head. Privately I decided that neither was entitled to any share of Lovelace’s find; but however the original discoverer had been done to death a bitter feud had undoubtedly sprung up between Van Dorn and the Arab—both eager to profit by Lovelace Pasha’s murder.
“Tell me,” resumed the sheik, abruptly, “where is your ship—at Koser?”
I nodded.
“And you came over the caravan route through the mountains?”
I nodded again.
“Perhaps, then, you know when the jackal will try to secure the treasure?” the sheik continued, eyeing me intently.
I decided there was little harm in being frank with the man. He knew there was a treasure and that Van Dorn was after it and would not rest till he got it. So it would avail us nothing to lie, and I hoped our final safety might result from being frank and truthful.
“Van Dorn has already secured the treasure,” I answered.
For the first time the passionate heart of the man conquered his impassive frame. He gave a start of dismay and his face was for an instant contorted with fear and anger. But presently he controlled himself with a great effort and asked:
“When was this, Effendi?”
“Last night.”
“Were you with him?”
“Yes.”
“Where, then, is the robber now?”
“I do not know. We went to Luxor on business and our party was to wait for us at Tel-Ambra. When we arrived they were gone.”
I had reminded him of something. He looked at Archie and said:
“You received some money at Luxor. This is a dangerous place, so I will myself take care of your money until you are in safety, or rejoin your friends. Give it to me.”
Archie grinned.
“Why, you’re as big a thief as Van Dorn,” he answered, easily. “But I’ve fooled you, my good Arab. The money is now in Cook’s bank at Luxor, and I don’t believe they’ll give it up if you go and ask them.”
The Arab frowned; but perhaps he remembered there was more important game to be bagged, for he said no more about Archie’s money, to the boy’s great relief.
“Did the jackal secure much treasure?” he inquired, turning to me with a trace of eagerness in his voice.
“Quite a lot. Enough to load two camels,” I replied.
“And did any remain after that?”
“Plenty, as far as I could judge.”
“Where is the place?”
“I could not find it again if I tried; nor could my companions. Van Dorn did not tell us how to get to it. He led us there at night, and it is still his secret as far as we are concerned.”
After this Abdul Hashim began to pace nervously up and down the room, the floor of which was hard earth. Suddenly he paused.
“How many people came with you from Koser?” he demanded.
I was glad he asked the question that way, for it gave me an opportunity to answer truthfully and still mislead him.
“Gege-Merak, who guided us, had an escort of six Bega warriors; in our party were nine—fifteen in all,” said I.
“Gege-Merak!” he exclaimed, in an annoyed tone, and resumed his pacing. Evidently the news did not please him.
I acknowledge that I hardly knew how to conduct myself in so strange an emergency. The question was whether to try to make an ally of the sheik or to defy him. It naturally worried me to be separated from my uncle and his party of Americans, of whose fate I now stood in doubt. The treasure I believed to be seriously threatened by Gege-Merak, who had so inopportunely discovered our secret, and the chief would have no hesitation in murdering us all if he found an opportunity. With Abdul Hashim on our side we might successfully defy Gege-Merak, yet to set the Arab on the trail meant sure death to the Professor and a loss of much of the treasure, since the sheik would be sure to put forward his claim for a division, under the alleged compact existing between himself and Lovelace.
Truly we Americans were in double peril, from the Bega chief on one side and the Arab sheik on the other; and how we might extricate ourselves from the difficulties that beset us was a difficult problem. If we three boys were again with Ned and Uncle Naboth we could assist them to fight it out, but our loss must have weakened them greatly, and alone we three were well nigh powerless.
“Fifteen,” repeated Abdul Hashim, musingly; “fifteen. Are you Americans true men?” he then inquired, with an appearance of earnestness.
“True as steel,” I said.
“Will they deliver Van Dorn to my vengeance?”
The question amused me.
“No, sheik; they will be true to Van Dorn, who has been true to them. They do not know the story you have just told me, and have no grievance against the man.”
“But when they learn the truth will they deliver him up?” he persisted.
“I think not. My uncle would take an American’s word in preference to that of an Arab.”
“I must fight,” said Abdul Hashim, as if to himself. “But not openly. I must meet treachery with treachery. Very good.”
He stopped and looked at us with composure, as if he had settled all difficulties in his own mind and outlined a plan of action.
“I shall yet secure my treasure and my revenge,” he continued, and then bowed low to us and left the room. The bow was a mockery, and we felt less assurance in the sheik’s absence than when we faced him.