But here we were, prisoners of an unscrupulous and lawless Arab, and realizing that any present attempt to escape would be useless, we sat down upon the palm branches to await the next act in the drama.
The situation was not long in developing. A tall, dirty Arab came in with some coarse food, which we ate because it was now the middle of the afternoon and our long ride had made us hungry.
Scarcely had we finished the meal when more Arabs came to lead us from our quarters. We found six camels saddled and kneeling in the village street. Three were our own, and with them were three others that seemed equally good—doubtless the pick of Abdul Hashim’s animals.
The sheik and two stalwart Arabs stood beside the beasts and, as we approached, Abdul Hashim tersely commanded us to mount. We obeyed, selecting our own camels; I ventured to ask if we could not have our rifles, which I saw the sheik and his two men holding. The result was that he not only refused my request, but ordered us carefully searched, and so our knives and revolvers were taken away. These the three coolly appropriated and we were compelled to mount.
Slowly we rode away from the village toward the spot where the three aged palms reared their fronded heads above the sands. Somewhere near their roots there must have been moisture, which welled up from below, but never reached the surface of the desert. It is the only way to account for the life of these trees amid the sandy waste, whereon nothing else was able to grow. Often you meet with such phenomena in tropical climes—vegetation existing seemingly without moisture—but there must be a rational explanation of these remarkable occurrences.
Abdul Hashim seemed moody, and a frown darkened his handsome bronzed features. When we arrived at the palms he turned to us and said:
“I have decided to give you a full hour in which to discover the location of the treasure. To deny that you know where it lies is useless, for if you fail to find it you will all three die here. I will not be burdened with prisoners, and I dare not set you free; so you may preserve your lives but in one way, by finding the treasure.”
This foolish speech made me very indignant with the fellow and discovered the sheik in an altogether new character.
“You must think we are a bunch of idiots!” I exclaimed, angrily. “If you dare not set us at liberty now, you surely would not dare do so after we had found the treasure for you.”
“You may as well kill us now, without farther trouble,” added Archie, gloomily.
“But that would be awkward for Abdul Hashim,” observed Joe, with a quiet smile. “Have we not warned the Cadi[3]at Luxor that we saw the sheik at the window of the bazar, and that we feared mischief at his hands? And did not the Cadi promise us that if harm came to us he would take vengeance on Abdul Hashim?”
I looked at Joe admiringly. It was all pure invention, but I could see that the remark impressed the sheik and caused him to waver in his purpose.
“The death of Abdul Hashim won’t help us after we are murdered,” remarked Archie, with a grin of appreciation.
“But it will be a satisfaction, nevertheless, to our friends,” I added, attempting indifference.
Now, the desert Arab is perhaps the most lawless creature on earth, except the desert Bega; but also he has a most wholesome fear of the authorities. The Egyptian mounted police is considered the finest and ablest body of the kind in existence, and its officers are merciless in hunting down the offenders of the law. So the Arab covers his crimes as much as possible, not being wholly deterred from them by the police, but striving in stealthy ways to escape discovery. Joe’s argument was, therefore, the most forcible one we could have advanced to safeguard our lives, and we were glad to see that it made our captor thoughtful. It might not serve, after all, if the sheik saw any particular object in killing us off, but until he did the thought of punishment evidently deterred him from harming us.
He tried another argument.
“Come,” said he, assuming a soft, caressing tone, “there is much treasure left, you say, and we will divide it equally. Or we will make it in quarters—I am not greedy, and a quarter is enough for one poor Arab like me, who only wants money to rebuild his village. And afterward I will escort you and your prize safely to Koser, or to Cairo, as you may prefer. All will be well with us, and we shall part friends. Is it agreed, then?”
He was not at all clever, this big and handsome bandit. No wonder the Professor found it easy to fool him.
For answer I shook my head.
“What you ask is impossible,” I said, truly. “Van Dorn has guarded his secret well, for only he knows where to unearth the treasure.”
“Then,” declared the sheik, with an abrupt change in tone, “I must have Van Dorn. Come; let us ride on.”
“Do you expect to capture Van Dorn’s party with three men?” inquired Archie, maliciously.
“No; I will tell you my plan. I intend to make a compact with Gege-Merak, if I can overtake him,” was the calm answer. “Together we will get the treasure that has been already taken and what still remains. We have only to wrest the secret from the red-bearded jackal, and kill him. Then we will divide the spoils and each go our own way. It is simple and easy enough to do, is it not?”
It seemed to me rather difficult, but I said nothing. Knowing more of the situation than Abdul Hashim did, I realized that the Bega chief was already our secret enemy and would doubtless be glad to form an alliance with the Arab, although the Bega professed to despise the Bedouins who shared the desert with them. I pinned my faith to Ned Britton, our stalwart sailors, and Bry, and to the cleverness of the Professor. Abdul Hashim would find some opposition in carrying out his “easy and simple” plans.
The camels were now sent forward at a swift pace and soon we reached the miserable oasis of Laketa. There we learned that all the men of the village—some half dozen—had joined Gege-Merak’s party and gone into the mountains. The party of Americans had followed in pursuit an hour later, said an old woman who spoke English imperfectly.
“Why pursuit?” I asked in wonder, when the sheik, at this information, turned to me with a triumphant leer.
That, however, the ignorant creature could not explain, either in her native dialect or in English. We only knew that friends and foes had disappeared into the foothills several hours before, and it puzzled me greatly to understand why Uncle Naboth had left us three boys to our fate and started in pursuit of the Bega chief. The only plausible explanation was that the Professor wanted to kill Gege-Merak before he could betray the secret of the treasure and set the authorities at Koser upon us; but even then it was unlikely that my uncle would consent to abandon me and my companions for the sake of the treasure or to obey Van Dorn’s whim. It was not like the faithful old fellow, who had stood by me in many a former emergency.
Abdul Hashim did not delay at the village, but pushed on hastily, late as it was. We three boys were ordered to ride ahead, and our captors followed with rifles ready to shoot if we dared swerve from the path. Neither could we outdistance them, for their camels were as swift as our own and more obedient to their control. So we were as much prisoners as if bound and manacled.
The twilight is brief in Egypt, so soon after the setting of the sun we were obliged to make a halt. We had now reached the old abandoned well of the Romans, and beside it we made our camp.
First of all the Arabs tethered the camels; then calmly proceeded to bind us in an original manner. Our legs were tied from ankles to knees, and a rope was placed around each of our necks, looping us together and connecting us in one string with the most powerful of the two Arabs who accompanied the sheik. We were given food and a swallow of tepid water each, and afterward our wrists were firmly tied behind us. Trussed up like so many mummies, we were commanded to lie down and sleep!
Strange to say, we did sleep—not comfortably, perhaps, but from extreme fatigue; for the hard riding of the day had thoroughly exhausted us.
Next morning I awoke at early dawn to see Abdul Hashim standing by the curb of the abandoned well and looking into its depths thoughtfully. His men joined him a moment later, and they conversed together in low tones in Arabic. Several times I heard the word “akareb” mentioned, which I knew to signify scorpions, and at times they would cast a pebble into the well and then peer after it curiously.
At first I could not imagine what the fellows were up to. I knew scorpions were thick in these foothills, and remembered that my friend Ketti had warned me of them as we passed through; but why should the Arabs be so interested in the fact that there were numbers of these vermin at the bottom of the abandoned well?
The sheik soon solved the mystery, to my great horror. He came to us and kicked us in turn, bidding us harshly to rise.
Something in the man’s eyes warned me of grave danger. His mood had changed over night and instead of the thin mask of friendliness there was now a wicked look on his finely cut features that I was positive meant our imminent destruction—if he could accomplish it.
I slowly and with effort struggled to my feet, as did Archie and Joe. I braced myself for the final struggle.
“If I am to reach Gege-Merak I can carry you with me no longer,” announced the sheik, in a surly tone. “Therefore you will have the misfortune to fall into the well here, and if your bones are ever found no one can blame me for your death.”
“The well is full of scorpions, boys,” I said to my companions. “The sheik means to murder us.”
Archie shuddered, Joe remaining strangely silent.
“It isn’t a pleasant fate, Abdul Hashim,” I continued, turning to face the scowling Arab. “Why don’t you shoot us down, and make an end of it?”
“Ah, I fear your friend, the Cadi,” he responded, with a guttural laugh. “My plan is safe for me, and as sure for yourselves. There shall be no bullet holes in your flesh to trap me; there shall be no bonds around you to prove foul play if you are discovered in the well before the scorpions have picked your bones clean. Now, then, Hassan—get to work!” he added, turning with a gesture of command to his tall follower.
Hassan proceeded to free Joe from his bonds—he was first at hand—and the others at the same time began to untie our cords.
“I will give you a chance to fight the scorpions,” said the sheik, grimly; but that was the biggest mistake he ever made. He should not have risked loosening our bonds. He took us for mere boys, but forgot that even a boy, if he is an American and desperate, will fight to the last for life and liberty.
The tall one pushed Joe toward the edge of the well and was about to thrust him over the brink when the boy, who had seemed dazed and inert, suddenly stooped and grasped the Arab’s legs. It was the old trick that had once before astonished us. There was a brief struggle and then the man rose into the air, his arms extended and swinging in space, and plunged head foremost into the pit. His cry of terror, as he fell, was bloodcurdling, and Abdul Hashim gave an answering yell and sprang toward Joe with a knife glittering in his upraised hand.
Swift as an arrow the boy darted under his arm and ran where a rifle leaned against the rock. I saw him swing around and fire point blank at the sheik, who was not three paces away—but I had business of my own to attend to. For the burly Arab who had partly unfastened my bonds now clutched me by the throat and threw me to the ground, where he knelt on my chest and drew his pistol from his belt. Just as he fired the weapon was thrust aside and Archie’s big fist crashed into the fellow’s face and knocked him flat beside me.
“All right, Sam; you can get up now,” said the Yankee, cheerfully. “The war’s over.”
He cut my remaining bonds with a knife; half conscious of what had happened, I sat up and looked around.
Joe was seated on a rock bandaging his leg with a handkerchief.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Only a scratch,” he replied. “Abdul Hashim’s knife grazed me as he fell.”
The sheik was lying motionless upon his face. Archie turned him over and the dark eyes stared steadfastly at the sun, without blinking. I found myself trembling as with an ague.
“It’s dreadful, boys!” I gasped, appalled by what we had done.
“So it is,” answered Joe, nodding; “but it was our lives against theirs, Sam, and——”
He paused abruptly, glaring at something behind me. Archie screamed a warning and I sprang to my feet to find that the third Arab had recovered consciousness and was about to plunge a knife into my back.
I caught his wrist and struggled to hold the keen blade away from me, but the fellow was strong as an ox and mad with rage. Archie came to the rescue and dealt him a couple of stinging blows, so that he dropped the knife and caught us both in a fierce embrace, crushing the two of us against his breast while he dragged us nearer to the well.
I realized his intention and screamed and struggled without avail. Nearer and nearer to the scorpion pit we were dragged until all three of us, a writhing mass of flesh and muscle, were tottering on the brink.
The fight at the scorpion pit.
The fight at the scorpion pit.
Suddenly a pistol shot cracked—seemingly close to my ear—and the Arab’s head dropped. He gave us one final, spasmodic hug, and partly relaxed his grasp. I felt that we were all three reeling into the awful depths below, when my hair was clutched and I was torn from that terrible embrace and hurled to the earth. It was Joe who had saved me, and from where I lay I saw him straining to save Archie also from falling into the well. The Arab was either dead or desperately wounded, but with his final instinct of enmity he clung to Archie on one side while Joe dragged at him from the other.
The Arab’s body, however, was hanging over the pit, and its weight would soon draw my struggling, desperate friends after it unless prompt help was rendered them. I again leaped up and, half dazed as I was, clung frantically to Joe, and my added weight gave us the victory. For the Arab’s grasp slackened and his body slowly collapsed and fell with a thud to the bottom of the pit, while we three, clinging together and panting from our efforts, staggered away to sink weakly upon the ground.
It had all happened in half the time it takes to tell it, and for a moment the sudden revulsion from impending death to absolute freedom was more than we could comprehend. A little time ago we were being dragged by our terrible captors to the scorpion pit, there to meet a frightful death, and now two of our assailants were themselves in the pit, while the third lay motionless before us!
“How did it happen?” I asked myself, greatly bewildered; and then I remembered how Joe’s trick at wrestling had tumbled the first man into the well; how Joe had seized the rifle and shot Abdul Hashim; how Joe had vanquished the last Arab by a pistol shot as Archie and I struggled with him for dear life.
Joe? Yes; Joe had done all this. The quiet, slender lad I had once befriended through pity had now saved us all three from an awful fate, and by his extraordinary pluck and quick wit had proved himself a hero indeed.
Joe sat before me in an inert heap, breathing fast after his amazing efforts. Silently I reached out and grasped both his hands in mine, pressing them with gratitude too deep for words. Archie awoke from his stupefied abstraction and shook our deliverer’s hands warmly in his big paws. But he too forbore to speak. Words are poor things, and—Joe understood, I’m sure.
Finally we grew calm enough to resume conversation and to inquire what it was best we should do next. I was for taking the three best camels and pushing on toward Koser, hoping to find the pass through the mountains and regain the ship. My friends thought the plan as safe and practical as any. So I arose, rather unsteadily, for my nerves were still on edge, and searched the saddle-bags for food, having had no breakfast. I found plenty of dates, banyans and dried goat’s flesh, and we each took a portion of these and began to eat.
Presently Archie crawled to the edge of the well and leaning over looked in. I saw his face blanch and a look of horror come to his eyes, but neither Joe nor I asked a single question as our comrade hastily drew back and came to our side. Nor have I questioned him since. Whatever the Yankee boy saw in that gloomy pit he has never cared to speak of.
We were about to mount our animals, having recovered our rifles and some of our other weapons, when the quick tread of approaching camels reached our ears. Unnerved by our recent experience, our first impulse was to grasp our rifles and leap behind a sheltering rock, from which refuge we might determine whether friends or foes were drawing near.
The tread of the camels sounded ahead of us from up the trail, and soon we were reassured by a loud voice speaking in hearty American fashion. Shortly after there moved into our line of vision Uncle Naboth and Ned Britton, riding side by side, while after them came Bryonia and the sailors from theSeagull.
With a shout of joy, we leaped from our concealment, and my uncle fairly tumbled off his tall camel in his eagerness to embrace me. It was indeed a joyful reunion, and for a while no questions were asked on either side, the satisfaction of knowing we were all safe and reunited being enough for us.
But soon the silent form of Abdul Hashim stretched upon the ground attracted attention, and Uncle Naboth leaned over it and asked in a hushed voice:
“Who killed him, Sam?”
“Joe, uncle; and by killing him saved all our lives.” As quickly and in as few words as possible, I related the tragic scene just enacted.
But the relation of Abdul Hashim’s enmity reminded me to ask a question, in turn.
“Where is the Professor, uncle?”
“And where’s the treasure?” demanded Archie, almost in the same breath.
Uncle Naboth frowned and looked glum, and Ned swore a deep oath in sailor fashion.
“The Perfessor, Sam, is a infernal scoundrel!” my uncle answered.
I glanced at the dead Arab. Was his story indeed true, I wondered, and had Van Dorn wronged Abdul Hashim even as the sheik had declared? If so, much might be forgiven the Arab.
“Let us admit the Professor is a scoundrel,” I remarked, “for such a statement does not surprise me. But that does not account for his absence.”
“Yes; it does,” retorted Uncle Naboth; “an’ it ’counts for our runnin’ away and leavin’ you boys in the lurch. Almost it accounts for your all bein’ killed—which you would ’a’ been, lads, if it hadn’t been fer Joe.” Here he glanced affectionately at our hero, who grew red and embarrassed.
“True enough, uncle,” I said. “Tell us about it, please.”
“It were this way, Sam,” he began, seating himself upon a stone and mopping his brow with his red silk handkerchief, for it was hot up here among the rocks and Mr. Perkins was round and chubby. “You boys hadn’t more’n started for Luxor yesterday mornin’ before that blasted Gege-Merak come a-ridin’ up with his band an’ all the scoundrelly niggers in the village. They halted a little way off, for we showed fight an’ they was summat afraid of us. But that little dried-up one-eyed chief was game to come on alone, an’ as soon as he was in speakin’ distance he begun jabberin’ away in Arabia to the Perfessor. Van Dorn answered back, for he can talk Arabia well enough himself, an’ so they jabbered together for a time. I asked ’em to speak so’s we could understand, for ol’ Gege can talk English if he wants to, as you know; but the Perfessor told me not to interfere.
“‘You leave me to deal with him,’ says he, ‘an’ I’ll negotiate this business all right. P’raps,’ says he, ‘the Bega will keep our secret, after all, an’ not want a share o’ the plunder, either. He ain’t lookin’ for trouble,’ says the Perfessor.
“So I said nothin’ more, an’ they talked an’ jabbered a long while. Then on a suddint Van Dorn turns an’ says: ‘The chief thinks some o’ you understan’ Arabia, the langwidge as we’re speakin’, an’ he suspicions we’re a-trappin’ him.’
“‘We’re all honest English,’ says I, ’an’ I’m glad to say we don’t know a word of Arabia. What does he want, anyhow?’
“The Perfessor looked hard at Gege, but ol’ one-eye wouldn’t talk English. ‘Come,’ says the Perfessor, ‘state your terms.’ But still Gege was silent as a clam.
“‘I guess,’ says the Perfessor, ‘you all better draw aside an’ leave me to dicker with the chief. Draw back a little,’ says he, motionin’ to us.
“Well, you know, Sam, we’d come to rely a good deal on Van Dorn. He’d led us straight to the treasure, as he’d said he would, an’ he’d sealed it all up accordin’ to agreement until we could get it aboard ship an’ divide it proper. An’ we knew we’d have a hard time gettin’ back to Koser if we had to fight Gege an’ his niggers all the way. So we thought if Van Dorn could settle the trouble in his own fashion we’d give him every chance to do so. Leastwise, that’s what I thought, for I told the boys to ride off a little way, out o’ earshot. We did that, leavin’ the Perfessor an’ the chief together, and leavin’—that’s where we blundered, my lad—leavin’ the two camels with the treasure with ’em. But we hadn’t a thought of treachery until ol’ Gege raised his arm an’ the whole troop o’ niggers come rushin’ forward. They surrounded the Perfessor an’ the camels, fired a few shots at us, an’ then turned an’ rode as fast as they could for the village.
“Ned an’ I didn’t know what to do for a minute. The Perfessor was escapin’ as lively as the rest, leadin’ one treasure camel, while ol’ Gege led the other; so we knew well enough he’d put up the job on us an’ made a dicker with Gege to rob us of our share.
“‘The boys won’t be back till afternoon, so let’s foller the thieves an’ fight it out,’ says Ned. That struck me as sensible, so after ’em we went, not meanin’ at the time to desert you, but tryin’ to save the treasure we had earned an’ to balk the plans of that dum-sizzled Perfessor.”
“You did quite right, uncle,” said I. “I don’t blame you a bit. Well?”
“Well, lad, they didn’t stop at the village, as we expected, but kep’ right on. Also we kep’ right on. Whenever we got too close they’d turn an’ shoot at us, but they never hit anything, an’ we didn’t dare shoot much ourselves for fear o’ killin’ the girl, who was ridin’ her camel jest beside the chief an’ the Perfessor.”
“Iva?”
“Yes. She’s a pretty girl, Sam, and ain’t to blame in this matter, as I can see; so we hated to harm her. Another thing, we ain’t so used to shootin’ folks for a bit o’ money as these Arabs is. So all day we chased ol’ Gege through the hills, an’ towards dark we were a long way ahead o’ here, past the next stretch o’ desert beyond, and well into the black mountains. Then, to our surprise, instead o’ keepin’ in the trail, the chief and his party turned aside into a narrer path an’ rode plumb into a blind ravine, where they made camp.
“I couldn’t understan’ the whys an’ wherefores of this, at first, but Ned an’ I figgered out that the foxey ol’ chief, or the Perfessor, or both, didn’t care to get any nearer to Koser with that treasure while we were hot on their track. They mean to stop in that canyon until they can get rid o’ us, some way or ’nuther; for to let us chase ’em into the settlement, or to get there first an’ warn the police, would mean that they’d have to give up the boodle, sure thing, an’ p’raps render an account for killin’ poor Cunningham.
“We watched the mouth of that ravine all night, but couldn’t get any nearer the thieves ’cause one man, well armed, can stand in that narrer place between the rocks an’ keep off an army. This mornin’ we decided we’d go back an’ find you boys, for you’ve been on my mind a good deal an’ I’ve worried about you. So I’m mighty glad to find you so soon, safe an’ well.”
This story was as perplexing as it was interesting. I tried to understand the policy of the Professor’s strange desertion.
“Why, uncle, do you think Van Dorn preferred to deal with the Bega chief rather than remain faithful to us?”
“There’s several things to explain it, Sam. Ol’ Gege knew the secret, first an’ foremost, an’ the Perfessor reckoned we could never get to Koser alive an’ with the treasure as long as the chief was agin us an’ hankerin’ to get his fists on them jewels an’ things. Van Dorn had agreed to give us half of all the treasure, exceptin’ the rolls of writin’, an’ if he stuck to his bargain with us ol’ Gege might capture the outfit, bein’ stronger than we are an’ knowin’ the country better. On the contrary, if Van Dorn deserted an’ went over to the chief, he could make the same terms with him an’ stand a better chance of gettin’ out safe. Mebbe he’s got a plan to return for the rest of the treasure, an’ mebbe his idea is to take it to Luxor, so’s to keep out of our way. Anyhow, the Perfessor’s a low-down villain, Sam, an’ he’s tryin’ to feather his own nest at our expense. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he’s plottin’ right now how to kill us all, so’s to make himself safe. You see, he an’ Gege has that paper, signed by us, sayin’ we don’t hold anyone responsible if we’re killed in this adventure. That was a great mistake, Sam; we hadn’t ought to ’a’ signed it, at all.”
“But Van Dorn wouldn’t dare go to the ship and face my father,” said I.
“Of course not. His plan would be to find some other vessel to carry his plunder away from Egypt. He’s cunning as a weasel, that Perfessor, an’ vile as a skunk.”
I thought it a good time to relate to our friends the story of Van Dorn’s treachery to Lovelace Pasha, as told us by the Arab sheik; and they all agreed that Abdul Hashim’s version was likely to be true, and that the “red-beard” had been a scoundrel from the beginning of his connection with the affair, plotting to get the treasure away from both the explorer and the sheik, in case it was discovered. We were sorry Abdul Hashim had been killed, but his cold-blooded attempt to murder us had led to his own undoing, and he was now out of the running for good and all. The Arab might have possessed some manly instincts, and perhaps was a better man than Van Dorn, if the two could be compared; but his hatred of the white infidels made him as dangerous as the other, and we felt that one desperate enemy, at least, had been removed from our path.
“I wish he could have lived long enough to meet the Professor once more,” said I, with a sigh; “but fate has robbed the poor devil of even his revenge.”
We buried him among the rocks, to keep the jackals from preying upon his body, and mounted our camels to ride toward the place where Gege-Merak was encamped.
There was little need of haste now. The chief did not wish to escape us, it seemed, any more than we wished him to escape. The treasure was a magnet that drew both parties toward it irresistibly, and in order to possess it we must isolate ourselves in these mountains until we had fought the matter out and one side or the other became the victor.
Beyond the old Roman well, which had this morning witnessed so strange a tragedy, there lay, as you will remember, a stretch of sandy desert some five miles in extent, beyond which rose the black breccia cliffs of the Hammemat Mountains. It was in a rift of these cliffs that Gege-Merak had established himself.
We were proceeding leisurely across the sands and had come near enough to the edge of the mountain to note well its defiles, when our attention was arrested by a strange occurrence. A camel came racing at full speed from the hill path and dashed out upon the flat desert where we rode. For a short distance the beast made straight toward us, and we could see a rider clinging to its back—a huddled up figure dressed in a green and scarlet robe.
“It’s Iva!” cried Archie, astonished; and at the same moment the dress also enabled me to recognize the chief’s granddaughter.
Even as my friend spoke, the camel swerved and commenced running in a circle, scattering the sand in clouds as it bounded along in great leaps. The girl huddled lower, clinging desperately to her seat as the seemingly infuriated beast continued on its wild career.
“Why, the camel’s mad!” I exclaimed, remembering the tales of mad camels I had heard related, and seeing in the animal’s erratic actions the solution of the mystery.
There was no doubt of it now. The huge beast ran here and there in an aimless manner, never slacking its terrific speed, but darting first this way and then that, and finally renewing the circular course that was the clearest proof of its crazed condition.
Our party had halted involuntarily to watch the strange scene, but I felt that the girl was in serious danger and urged my camel forward without any clear idea of how I could render her assistance. In a moment I found that Archie and Joe had both joined me; pricking our animals to a faster pace we rode straight for the place where the mad camel was performing his capricious pranks.
Suddenly the beast stopped—so abruptly that Iva flew over its head and landed in the sand twenty feet or more away. She seemed unhurt by the fall, for instantly she was on her feet and, picking up her skirt, ran toward us with the speed of a deer. At the same time the mad brute’s eye caught the flash of her gaudy robe and, with a loud bellow, he darted after her flying figure.
For a second my heart was in my throat. Then I jabbed the pointed stick into the flank of my camel and shouted:
“Quick, boys—keep close together and run the beast down!”
It was a desperate act, but Iva’s peril was imminent. Even the lion in his jungle is not more terrible to face than a mad camel, and in a few moments the girl might have been trampled into a shapeless mass by the feet of the frenzied animal.
Riding so close together that the flanks of the three camels touched, we dashed swiftly on. Iva saw us, and, almost as we were upon her, turned and darted to one side. Her camel had also marked us, but with elevated head and flashing eyes, its hoofs spreading in the air as it bounded along, it made no attempt to pause. Next moment we came together and struck with the force of a catapult, the impact being so great that I sailed skyward and alighted—fortunately on my feet—several yards away. Archie and Joe also took croppers, and as soon as we recovered ourselves we looked toward the camels. They were all in a bunch at first. The mad one was down, and also one of the others, while the remaining two were stamping on them with terrific blows from their powerful feet.
It was a camel fight then, sure enough, for it is the instinct of these creatures to destroy one of its kind if it becomes crazed and runs amuck; and Archie’s camel, having tumbled down, would have suffered severely from the indiscriminate attack of its companions had it not found a chance to rise and join them against the real offender.
When, finally, the mad one lay crushed and motionless upon the sands, the others quieted down and stood meekly awaiting us to come and remount them.
Meantime Ned Britton, who followed close behind us, had leaped down and caught up the terrified girl, and when I looked to see what had become of her I found her seated upon Ned’s steed with our big mate beside her, while he strove to quiet her fears and agitation by smoothing her hair with his rough hand.
Heretofore Iva had been sullen and silent, keeping by the side of the old chief, her grandfather, like a shadow and seeming to lack any interest in her surroundings. But now, as we gathered around her with sympathetic faces, she became animated and frank, thanking us very sweetly and with evident gratitude for coming to her rescue.
“But how did it happen, Iva?” I asked. “Why did you leave Gege-Merak?”
She drew back with a sober look; then, impulsively, she said:
“I will tell you all, for Ketti says you are honest and good, and I know my grandfather to be cruel and wicked.”
The speech astonished us, but the girl continued, quickly:
“Ketti has quarreled with his chief, and he is in disgrace—Ketti, who will be chief after my grandfather dies!”
“Will he, Iva?” I asked. “Is Ketti to be the next chief?”
“Yes; it is his right,” she answered, proudly; “and that is why Gege-Merak hates him. But Ketti is good, and when he is chief I am to marry him.”
“Bravo, Iva!” cried Archie. “Ketti is the best fellow in your gang, to my notion.”
“I think so, too,” said I. “But go on with your story, Iva.”
“The red-beard offered to give our chief half the treasure he has found if Gege-Merak will kill you all. My grandfather has promised to do so, but the men we brought from Laketa are cowards and do not dare to kill the Americans, and we have not enough men to be sure we will beat you in a fight. So the chief sent me back to our village to get all of the fighting men of our tribe and bring them to join him in yonder valley.”
“A very pretty plan,” remarked Uncle Naboth.
“That was why Ketti quarreled,” said the girl. “He said you must not be killed, for if we injured you the whole tribe would suffer, and perhaps be destroyed. Ketti does not care for treasure; he says it makes our people thieves and jackals; and he wants to live honestly and in peace, as our forefathers did. There was another thing, too, Effendi. The chief also plots to kill Red-beard, now that he is in our power, and to keep to himself all the treasure. Ketti told my grandfather that was not right, for we had given Red-beard our word, and the word of a Bega chief should be an honest word, and never false.”
“It won’t hurt the Perfessor to kill him,” observed Uncle Naboth reflectively. “The dum-sizzled scoundrel deserves several kinds of deaths, as a matter of justice.”
Iva did not know how to take this speech, but, after looking at my uncle in grave protest, she continued:
“So Ketti was disgraced—he, the bravest of our tribe!—and the chief, my grandfather, commanded me to ride to the village for our warriors, because I could not fight if you attacked him, and I knew well the way. He made me take Sekkat, our swiftest camel, although Sekkat has been acting strangely for two days. There is Sekkat,” she continued, pointing to the crushed remains of the beast that had so nearly destroyed her. “No sooner had I ridden out of the valley where the camp is than I understood that Sekkat was mad. I tried to turn him, and he rushed down the path and out upon the desert. The rest of my story you know, Effendi, and I thank you again for saving my life. Ketti also will thank you,” she continued, with a proud look at us.
“But Ketti is disgraced,” I said, smiling.
Her eyes flashed at this and her brow grew dark and fierce.
“Not for long will Ketti bow to any man’s anger!” she cried. Looking about us with an air imperious as that of any queen, she added: “Come with me, brave Amêrikâni! I will show you how to save both Ketti and yourselves, even as you have saved me. More; you shall save Red-beard and his treasure, too.”
That last promise was not necessary, but we accepted it with the rest, and that right joyously, as you may imagine.
“What is your plan, Iva?” I asked, as we once more put our camels in motion and rode toward the black cliffs of the mountain.
“Wait; you will see,” she replied, setting her lips firmly together. So much were we impressed by this girl’s courage and frankly avowed friendship that we followed her lead blindly, questioning her no more.
It soon became evident to us that Iva knew this country intimately. She abandoned the clearly outlined entrance to the pass through which we had come on our way from Koser, and led us around to the less promising cliffs at the left. An hour’s ride brought us to a ravine we had not before noticed, and silently we entered this and rode among boulders and loose stones until the steep rocky sides closed in on us and we could proceed no farther. Then we dismounted and picketed our camels. Taking only our rifles and ammunition with us, we followed the Bega girl up a dizzy and difficult path that one would have judged, at first sight, it was impossible to scale. But Iva, mounting light as an antelope, seemed sure of her way, and where she went we could not well hesitate to follow.
The perilous climb brought us to the top of the cliff—a rocky ridge, narrow and uneven, with peaks here and there that shot their points still farther toward the sky. Presently the girl paused and looked over the edge, and dropped lightly into a pocket-like hollow of the inner cliff—a place that reminded me of an upper box in a theatre.
Here, quite protected from observation, we could look down upon the ravine in which Gege-Merak and his men were encamped. Just beyond the pass we could see the two tall warriors who were guarding its entrance, so we had approached the ravine from the rear.
The cunning old chief had chosen his retreat well. On all sides were smooth walls of black breccia, where not even a mountain goat could have found a foothold. Only at the entrance was there any cleft that allowed one to enter or leave the place. The camels stood grouped at one end, and the four panniers containing the treasure of the priests of Karnak had been piled upon a rocky table and were guarded by one of Gege-Merak’s own men. The ravine was perhaps eighty feet wide by some three hundred feet long, and several of the low, spreading Bedouin tents had been pitched just underneath the hollow wherein we lay.
The chief and all his company, except the guards I have mentioned, must have been congregated under these tents when we arrived at our point of observation, and for more than an hour we lay there patiently attentive without seeing any evidence of life in the camp below. We supposed that Iva’s adventure was unknown to them, shut in as they were, and doubtless the chief believed her even then to be speeding toward his village to bring back reinforcements of fighting men.
But Gege-Merak had no intention of remaining idle in the meantime, as we were soon to observe. For at last the Bega began to stream out of the chief’s tent, and among them came Van Dorn, his arms bound close to his sides and a big warrior now leading, now pushing him along.
The Professor seemed weak and unnerved, for he stumbled among the loose stones that littered the way and would have fallen more than once had not his guard steadied him. His head was bare and his clothing torn in many places. Doubtless the fellow had struggled desperately before he had finally been secured.
They led Van Dorn to the end of the ravine opposite us and placed him with his back against the rock. The Bega and the Bisharin from Laketa, all animated and talking eagerly in their native tongue, formed a group fifty yards away. Prominent amongst them we could see the dwarfed, withered form of the aged chief, and the stalwart, towering figure of Ketti.
Gege-Merak gave an order and a man stepped forward and leveled his rifle at the Professor. Before he could fire, Van Dorn shrieked in terror and dropped to the ground. They raised him again, cuffing and shaking him until once more he stood upright. Yet he trembled visibly. Again the Bega warrior raised his rifle, but, answering the victim’s pitiful screams, Ketti now sprang before the man and wrenched away his weapon, protesting so loudly that his voice reached even to our high nest on the cliff against the deed the chief had ordered.