“I have been here ten days,” said the other thoughtfully, seeming to disregard Mr. Hampton’s question. “Yes, the Sacrificial Games, them, are five weeks, no, six weeks, distant.”
Again Mr. Hampton demanded, this time a sharper note of anxiety in his voice, what the Athensian sought to convey.
“Just this, monsieur,” said the other; “that your son is destined to take part in the annual Sacrificial Games of my people. Every year twelve of the strongest men from the outside world who can be found, either taken prisoner by us in battle or raid, or bought in the slave mart of Gao, are pitted in single combat against an equal number of Athensian youth. The victor in each contest is then pitted against another victor. Thus the competition is narrowed until only two remain. These combats are to the death. The winner is worshipped one whole year as the embodiment of the God of Strength. At the time of the annual Sacrificial Games of the succeeding year he is killed as a sacrifice.”
“Good heaven,” said Mr. Hampton. “And is that the reason for this purchase by your people of the strongest slaves in Gao, of which I have heard?”
“Monsieur has heard?” queried the other, surprisedly. “Yes, that is the reason.”
“I can’t stay any longer to talk to you,” said Mr. Hampton, emphatically, springing to his feet. “I must set out at once to rescue Bob.”
“But a moment, monsieur,” pleaded the other. “I would like to go with you, but I am not strong enough. See, I cannot more than lift my arm,” he added, suiting action to word.
“Yes, yes, I know,” Mr. Hampton said, impatiently. “But I must be off. Allola, this old Arab woman, will look after you until my return. And if I fail, well——” A shrug of the shoulders completed his sentence.
“Monsieur must not fail if he would see his son again,” the Athensian said. “But before you go, let me explain. I shall be brief.”
Mr. Hampton unwillingly returned and the Athensian continued:
“I met Professor Souchard on one of his scouting expeditions about the base of our mountain wall. I am an exile from Athensi, monsieur. How I come to speak French is easily explained. I am of the priest clan, and our young men for ages have been sent into the outside world for a certain period of study. Always this has been so. We made our way into Egypt under the Pharaohs. When Carthage rose, we were represented there. At the height of Rome’s power, our young men were at her court, learning the secrets of her civilization and power. Through each succeeding age, we have gone out across the desert and entered the halls of learning of the dominant races of civilization. I was one of those selected to study the French, and I have served in the French Foreign Legion in Algiers.
“Then we return after a certain time, not to give the benefit of our acquired knowledge to our people, who are steeped in ignorance, being little better than the Kabyles of Northern Africa, who, as monsieur doubtless knows, are a semi-savage white race living in the mountain. No, we exercise this knowledge to retain our power. Some day there will come a revolution. I was one of those not contented with this abuse of power. I felt our country should be developed, and opened to civilization, surrounded though it is on every side by the desert. For this, I was an exile to Korakum.
“Another drink. I beg, monsieur. Ah, that is better. I draw near the finish of my words. Monsieur, I see, is anxious to be gone. Well spies of the Oligarch saw me converse with Professor Souchard whose first escape from Korakum had been regretted by the priest clan as a mistake. And heavily did they punish those who aided him then. Heavily monsieur. They paid with their lives. For the priest clan does not wish civilization from the outside world to enter our mountains, lest the power of its members be shattered.
“But I have friends. Knowledge that I had been spied upon in my conversations with Professor Souchard was not unknown to me. It was only recently I had met him, on the next to last trip he made into our region. When he came the last time, I met him out on the desert and warned him the expedition which he and you, monsieur—for I suppose you are the comrade he awaited—must turn back. He had not known before of the priest clan, nor of all this I have told you so sketchily. He said he would meet you at this oasis, and that he would tell you what I told him and go back with you across the desert.
“On returning to the mountains, monsieur, I hid beside the outbound trail. Hours later, a friend came to me with word that the Athensian spies were starting with an expedition for the oasis, determined to kill Professor Souchard and his man, Ben Hassim, rather than let them escape and bring the world about our ears.
“I had a horse. I mounted, and with a bag of food and several water bottles, set out to overtake my friend. Five days I rode, not sparing my horse. Then he dropped dead, and I staggered on the last half day afoot. But the Athensians overtook me.
“I was not killed monsieur. I was carried along to the oasis with them. At its edge, the world went black to me.” He paused. “That is all, monsieur. What has happened since, you know better than I.”
Mr. Hampton drew a long breath. The spell of the man’s tersely told story had held him enthralled.
“They garroted Professor Souchard and Ben Hassim,” he said.
The Athensian’s lips compressed. “A trick of the priest clan’s followers for disposing of enemies,” he said.
“And you were hit a blow on the back of the head, and left for dead beside them. It was there we found you.”
“Ah,” said the other, composedly. “They lied to me. They said my life would be spared.” A long pause followed, during which he raised a languid hand to brush his eyes. “My name, monsieur,” he added, “is Amrath. I have delayed you, but not for long. Go now, and luck be with you. In the Valley of Korakum, should you reach it, you will find true men named Jepthah, Amonasis and Shilluk. Should it be your fortune to meet them, call upon them for help in my name. And now, luck be with you. I shall await your return.”
The Athensian’s lengthy conversation palpably had tired him, and Mr. Hampton summoned Allola who had gone to the door of the tent to watch the final stages of the Arabs’ preparations for departure, and ordered her to prepare broth at once for Amrath. He also left with the latter one of his precious bottles of brandy, advising him to sip it sparingly.
Good-byes were said, and he was on the point of departure. In fact, already he had left the tent when Allola came running after him, summoning him in dumb show to return.
“A bit of advice, monsieur,” said Amrath. “Your one opportunity to intercept the party bearing away your son lies not in following their trail. It will be circuitous in order to pass by three small water holes in the desert of which we Athensians know. That is necessary because of the horses. But you, with your camels, need not strike those water holes. Take a supply of water in your water bottles, and strike due south. The only way to enter the mountain wall is through the old stone road leading into Korakum. There is another trail, which was destroyed ages ago, and which we revolutionaries secretly have been rebuilding. The spies set upon us recently may have reported that to the Athensian authorities. But, doubtless, this party will take the easier route. Therefore, I would advise you to seek the old road, which lies due south of this oasis and enters the mountains by the only accessible pass.
“If you arrive in time, seek out Jepthah, Amonasis and Shilluk in Korakum and with their aid make an ambush. That is all,” he concluded, faintly, his exertions beginning to show on him. He clasped Mr. Hampton’s outstretched hand and pressed it to his forehead. “Believe me, monsieur,” he said, “I am not ungrateful. Amrath wishes you well. And, who knows? Together we may yet bring happiness to my backward country.”
Making a mental note of the directions given and especially of the names of the three friendly exiles of Korakum now twice repeated, Mr. Hampton bade Amrath farewell. Drawing Allola with him, he ordered Ali to lay upon her the strictest injunctions for looking after the Athensian’s welfare, stating the man was a friend. Further, he advised her that should he fail to return she was to give Amrath on his recovery the documents left in her possession and destined for the Cairo bankers, feeling assured the Athensian would deliver them.
Everything now being ready and Frank and Jack especially being wild to start, the party set out. Amrath’s advice was repeated to Ali, who nodded agreement.
“That is good sense,” he declared. “If we followed the trail, as your man says, we might and probably would be too late. They would escape on their fleeter horses. But by shortening the distance to the mountains, we may arrive ahead of the raiders.”
Day after day the party now pushed on south into the desert, resting two hours in the hottest part of the day but making up for the delay by riding far into the cooler night. The camels were pushed almost to the limit of endurance.
Daily the Shaitun Mountains loomed larger on the southern horizon. A sharp lookout was kept for sight of other travellers, but none was seen. Except for the gray shape of an occasional jackal scuttling off through the bush into his sand burrow, or a herd of ostrich seen at a distance, nothing alive appeared in that vast waste of sand dunes and stunted bush. No trees broke the horizon, once the oasis of Aiz-Or had been left behind.
This failure to sight the raiders carrying Bob into captivity was variously interpreted by members of the party. Mr. Hampton and Ali, older and less optimistic than the boys, were inclined to believe it meant that the raiders had too great a lead, due to their several hours’ start and their swifter mounts, and had completely outdistanced them. Jack and Frank, on the contrary, scorned this interpretation. To them the absence of any sight of the raiders meant that the route the others followed was so circuitous as to be completely below the horizon and that, accordingly, the chance of reaching the mountains in advance of the raiders was good.
“And, believe me,” said Frank, during the course of one discussion, “when we spring our ambush, if they show any signs of resistance, I’ll have no compunctions about shooting.”
“Same here,” said Jack. “For once in my life I’ll shoot at human beings without a qualm. The bloody scoundrels. Carrying off old Bob to make a Roman holiday for ’em. Either he’d be killed in one of their single combats, or, if he won, he’d be fattened up for a year and then sacrificed to their idols. Brr.”
Mr. Hampton nodded.
“I agree with you boys,” he said, quietly. “If we get the opportunity, we must not throw it away through faint-heartedness or misplaced kindness. These Sacrificial Games of which Amrath spoke constitute a bloody rite which is out of tune with modern times. The idea of Bob being compelled to fight for his life, without any real chance of winning, even if he conquers all others, makes me shudder.”
Jack and Frank were silent a long time, filled with oppressive thoughts. Yet in the end, a grim smile spread over Frank’s face and he appealed to his comrade with:
“Just the same, Jack, it would be a great sight to see old Bob doing the gladiator. He’s an expert fencer, wrestler and boxer. Let them arm him as they will, he’ll put up a real battle. I wouldn’t be surprised if he beat all contenders.”
“You bloody-minded barbarian,” said Jack. “I believe you’d like to see such a contest.”
“Well,” said Frank, “if it can’t be avoided, I want a ringside seat, that’s all.”
Mr. Hampton’s lips twitched, although he shook his head in deprecation. Youth must be served, he knew well. The delight of the three young men in sports always had seemed to him wholesome and worth while. From their earliest knee-pants days he had encouraged them in all sorts of athletic exercises. They swam like water dogs, ran like Mercuries, fenced like D’Artagnan, and as non-professional boxers and wrestlers stood high. But of them all, Bob was the most expert boxer and wrestler, due in a measure to his greater physical strength, while, as Frank had said, he was no mean hand with the foils. Should he be pitted with sword and shield against almost any warrior, he would give a good account of himself.
Frequently, these rest-period discussions turned on the question of what should be done if they failed to intercept the raiders and effect Bob’s rescue, as well as on what plan to follow if the small raiding party joined hands with a larger Athensian force.
Mr. Hampton was of the opinion that the latter contingency was quite likely to arise. Apparently, secure in their sense of isolation, the Athensians had not maintained outer guards of their mountain land at the time Professor Souchard first arrived at Korakum. Otherwise, it would not have been possible for him to escape. But that now such a guard was maintained seemed to Mr. Hampton more than likely.
Against this assumption, however, Jack argued with great good sense that Amrath would have been aware of such a guard, and would not have advised them to attempt to enter Korakum and seek out his comrades had a guard existed.
The only plan they could reach for use in case of attack by superior number was to compel the camels to kneel in a circle and from the interior of such a fort of living flesh put up the best fight possible. With their repeating rifles and plenty of ammunition, it was possible they could inflict such damage as to compel the withdrawal of the enemy. If not, well——
“If old Bob has got to go, I’d just as soon go with him,” said Frank.
Jack nodded solemnly.
As for the Arabs, said Ali:
“When we die in battle, we are sure of Paradise. The Prophet so promised.”
In case they failed to intercept the raiders and rescue Bob, Mr. Hampton planned to hunt out first the Korakum exiles whose names had been given him by Amrath, and whom he took to be leaders of the revolutionaries. It was possibly that they could be induced to aid in some plan for stealing Bob from Athensi before the holding of the Sacrificial Games, which Amrath had said were six weeks away. Failing to gain such aid, Mr. Hampton believed it possible the exiles might at least supply information which would enable them alone to penetrate the enemy’s stronghold and try to rescue Bob. For to this course, Jack and Frank had declared openly they would commit themselves, come what would.
And Mr. Hampton knew it was useless to try to dissuade them. Both were of age and, although guided by him ordinarily, in this matter they would act as they saw fit. Either they would rescue Bob or die in the attempt. The bond of union between the three inseparables was so sure and firm that Mr. Hampton would not attempt to go against it, even though it might mean the loss of his own son. As a matter of fact, he himself was equally determined to go the limit in attempting to rescue Bob.
As matters fell out, they were enabled to make the last march bringing them to the Shaitun Mountains entirely under cover of darkness. By saving their camels the latter half of the day, they covered the remaining distance at night, and arrived at the pass—plainly discerned through Mr. Hampton’s night glasses—in the early morning hours, before the sun was up.
Should they enter and hunt cover, or reconnoitre the mountain wall to either side first? This question had been left until the last moment for decision, as naturally the lay of the land would influence them.
On arrival, so gradually did the great stone road rise out of the sand and pierce the mountain pass, with bare steep walls on either side, devoid of verdure, that Mr. Hampton believed it was safe enough to push ahead. On those great rocky slopes, where the levelling process of Nature had been assisted by man in that dim age when the road first was built, by no possibility could men lie hidden. At this point they could neither ambush nor be ambushed.
Before proceeding, however, the sand was inspected by Arabs afoot for any signs that would indicate the recent entrance of horsemen into the pass. None was found. Then the marks left by the scouts were carefully obliterated.
For a considerable distance, as they approached the pass, the camels were made to walk in single file, and two Arabs, walking backward at the rear of the procession, smoothed out all signs of their passage. In broad sunlight, anyone hunting for a trail, would find it. But to a cursory glance it would remain invisible.
Satisfied that everything possible had been done to prevent the raiders whom he now felt assured had not yet entered the pass, from discovering he was ahead of them, Mr. Hampton ordered the party to proceed cautiously along the great stone road.
The moon had been down for two hours or more. They had so timed their approach as to make the last part of their journey come at the darkest time of night, in order to minimize the risk of being seen by any spies on the mountain.
In the distance, on either hand, stretched away to the horizon a great mountain mass, the outer walls of which Mr. Hampton estimated to be 2,000 feet at least in height. Steep precipitous slopes of rock, as far as they could judge, made ascent next to impossible. Here, in this pass, however, the mountain walls were slightly lower. Yet, as they proceeded slowly up the stone road, which ascended gradually but steadily, going carefully, with an Arab well in the lead as they approached each turn in order to give warning against surprise, the walls were steep enough in all seeming.
Conversation had been forbidden, and only the soft padding of the camels broke the silence. Yet each man thought to himself that it would be impossible to scale those slopes, and prepared to fight to the death where he stood in case of attack.
It was even darker in the pass than it had been on the desert, where the soft diffusive light of the stars gave a faint illumination. They rode two abreast, and Jack and Frank, who rode together, could make little out of their surroundings. They were in the middle of the line and could barely see the men ahead and behind them—dark, hooded shapes all. For Mr. Hampton and the boys wore Arab burnooses and, except for their sun helmets, which they wore in place of the Arab turban, resembled their companions in appearance.
Of the road itself little could be seen, except that it was smooth and without breaks, composed of immense rocks which could have been moved from a quarry and put in place only at the expense of Herculean labor, especially in that dim bygone age when laid down. Filling the pass from wall to wall, it was a road built for the ages. How deep it went, who knew? Certainly, it must have been yards in depth. Over the surface, one would have expected sand from the desert to have collected, but so free was the stone from any such accumulation that it seemed to be newly-swept. Winds playing up and down the pass like the draught in a chimney were responsible.
Suddenly the Arab riding far in the lead to guard against surprise, as similarly rode a single Arab well in the rear of the main body, fell back beside Mr. Hampton and Ali who headed the procession.
“What is it?” asked Ali, low-voiced. “Men ahead?”
The other whispered softly to him, and Ali turned to his anxious companion, and interpreted in a relieved tone.
“Akmet says there is a little pocket ahead in the canyon wall,” he whispered. “He cannot see well because of the darkness. There are trees and bushes. He will not go in alone. Akmet,” said Ali, in a tone of scorn, “does not fear to find men, but he is afraid of spirits. He wants the Master to accompany him because he is a great wizard.”
In the darkness, unseen by Ali, Mr. Hampton smiled. This child-like fear ofdjinnor spirits he had noted among the men on other occasions. Early in their association, whiling away hours in camp as they crossed the Great Desert toward the oasis, he had performed some intricate tricks of magic which had made a great impression on the men. That they believed him a wizard, he knew.
“Very well,” he said, “tell Akmet to lead, and I’ll follow. Do the rest of you remain here until we return.”
Then the forms of the two men melted into the darkness. A considerable time elapsed before their return and Jack, alarmed despite the absence of shots or other sounds which would indicate his father had encountered trouble, was arguing with Ali who barred the way to be permitted to go in search, when his father and Akmet returned.
“Just the place for us,” said Mr. Hampton, in a tone of satisfaction, still speaking in a low voice. “A little grassy plateau, slightly above the level of the road and stretching back under a steep overhanging bulge in the rocky wall of the mountains as far as we could judge. Some wild fig trees have grown up there and the grass is luxuriant. There is a spring of water at the rear. The plateau is about an acre and a half or two acres in extent, running back under the rock rather than alongside the road. The trees will screen us, there is water, grass for the camels, and we will be protected from attack overhead. We could make a stand there against an army, if necessary.”
Expressions of satisfaction greeted this announcement, and with Akmet and Mr. Hampton in the lead, the whole party, which the rear guard had joined during its halt, proceeded to the retreat.
Things were as Mr. Hampton had described and, after bedding down the camels at the rear, and rearranging the screen of bushes where they had entered in order to hide signs of their passage, all lay down to snatch a few hours’ sleep except the two guards. Jack and Frank begged so hard to be given the task of keeping guard that Mr. Hampton, knowing their anxiety regarding Bob, gave his consent.
Two hours later came daylight without an alarm having been sounded. Then the two boys reluctantly summoned Ali and another Arab, as had been arranged, and rolling up in their burnooses flung themselves on the grass. They were firmly convinced that sleep would be impossible but nature had her way with their overwrought systems, and they sank fathoms deep in slumber. It was well past noon before Mr. Hampton aroused them, and their looks of astonishment at discovering they had yielded to sleep were so comical that he chuckled with silent laughter.
Before they could speak he laid a finger on his lips, enjoining silence, and then in a low voice added:
“We haven’t seen anybody nor heard a sound. But it is well to be careful. So keep your voices down.”
While they breakfasted, Mr. Hampton sat beside the boys, and a sudden thought came to Jack which caused him to jump up excitedly.
“Look here, Dad,” he said. “We’ve got the Professor’s radio apparatus with us. Frank put it in good shape. Now, it just occurred to me that when Bob left the oasis with me to go on that disastrous ostrich hunt he had a receiving set—our little pet set—tucked away with him. The instruments were in his helmet. The phones and the wire for antenna and ground, were on his saddle.
“It sounds crazy, I know, but it’s just possible that he may have managed to persuade his captors to let him fiddle with the contraption. They wouldn’t know what it was for, and they might let him amuse himself with it. Why not set up the sending apparatus, and try to send him a message. It’s just a chance, I know. But still, if we should manage to let the old boy know we were waiting to rescue him, it would cheer him up, and it would put him on his guard, too, so that he could look out for himself when the attack comes.”
Mr. Hampton, thus appealed to, was tempted to smile tolerantly. It seemed to him, indeed, crazy to believe Bob would be able to receive a message. Yet he was too kind-hearted to hurt the feelings of his son and of Frank, who also hung on his decision. Their anxiety about Bob was known to him. In fact, he shared it. To be doing something, anything, would help relieve the tension on their nerves.
“All right, Jack,” he said, “go ahead and try it. Can’t do any harm, and if you do manage to reach Bob, even though he can’t let you know you succeeded, you certainly will be of comfort to him.”
When he thought of Bob’s predicament, of the mental torture the poor fellow must be undergoing, Mr. Hampton was filled with despair. He turned away to keep the boys from reading his thoughts in his face.
Jack, however, was very close to his father in spirit. Many a time, he showed an uncanny ability at reading his thoughts. As Mr. Hampton strode abruptly away, he turned to Frank and whispered:
“Dad’s in the dumps. He doesn’t really believe we can rescue Bob. I can tell, all right. But, somehow, I have a different feeling myself.”
Frank nodded soberly.
“I can see how your father feels, too,” he said. “I don’t quite share your optimism. Things look pretty black to me. After all, you must remember, that fellow Amrath told your father there was another way beside this to pass through the mountains to Athensi. Bob’s captors may have learned about the exiles having repaired it, and may take it.”
“I wonder,” said Jack, thoughtfully, “what measures Father has taken to keep watch for the approach of Bob and his captors. Think I’ll ask him,” he added, rising.
“Go ahead,” said Frank, draining the last of his coffee. “I’ll be getting to work on the radio in the meantime.”
Presently Jack returned with word that one of the Arabs had been out to the mouth of the pass where, posted with glasses, he could maintain a sharp lookout over the desert, while another had been sent scouting up the Great Road toward Korakum.
“I had a look at that road, Frank,” added Jack. “Believe me, it is a wonder. It is composed of great slabs of quarried rock two or three yards square. The road is all eighty feet wide, Dad estimates. And the ruts! Man alive, you ought to see them, not deep, but innumerable, from the passing of chariots in the ancient days Dad believes. He says that at one time, undoubtedly, the road led out into the desert, perhaps clear to Egypt. But of course the shifting sand has covered it deep by now.”
“Hand me that coil of No. 14 wire, will you?” asked Frank, absorbed in the business of connecting up his motor with the double-pole switch. “There,” as he leaned back, to contemplate his work with satisfaction, before resuming.
“Have you thought, Jack,” he asked, “of how fascinating it is to camp beside this Great Road? Think of the history it has made. History so ancient there is no record of it left.”
“Oh, yes, there is a record,” corrected Jack. “Wait till we start deciphering the papyrus rolls in the library of Athensi.”
“I’m afraid we’ll wait a long time for that,” commented Frank, completing the connection between one pole of the switch with a post of the primary coil of the alternating power transformer. “A long time.”
“Pessimist,” said Jack, stooping down and connecting the other post of the primary coil with one of the posts of the key, then connecting the other pole of the key with the second pole of the switch. “Pessimist,” he repeated, “you’ve got a bad day, that’s all.”
“I have,” said Frank, with conviction. “Wish I could feel as optimistic as you. But it strikes me poor Bob is in one fix, and we stand a poor chance of rescuing him.”
While the boys continued their operations, they talked continually in lowered tones over the possibilities of the situation. No matter what turn the adventure should take, they were firmly determined not to leave the desert alive without Bob. Each felt in his heart that he would never dare face life if he deserted their comrade in his hour of peril. Despite his more buoyant spirits, Jack realized the difficulties of effecting a rescue should Bob ever get inside Athensi as well as did Frank.
Presently they became silent, to some extent by reason of absorption in their work, but also because their thoughts had strayed elsewhere. Frank in spirit was back at their peaceful home on the far end of Long Island. He could see the great house of the Temples, homey and comfortable, among the spreading elms and maples. He could see the tennis court where so often he had performed, and flying over it was a familiar figure in short white skirt, hair bound back with a bandeau, vigorously wielding the racquet against an unseen opponent. Della.
It would be tough to pass out without seeing her again. But tougher still to have to go home and acknowledge that he had let her brother be captured and carried away to certain death without having done his utmost, even to life itself, to rescue him.
“If I don’t come back, old scout,” he muttered, soundlessly, “maybe word of it will get to you some way.”
“Here,” said Jack, “quit talking to yourself.”
Frank looked up guiltily. “Did—did—you hear what I said?” he asked.
“No,” said Jack. Then he regarded him fixedly. “Della’s the real stuff, Frank,” he said. “She’s worth everything.”
Frank dropped his eyes, but reached out to squeeze Jack’s hand.
Mr. Hampton slid into position beside them. His approach had been soundless. He appeared worried, and laid a finger on his lips to enjoin silence and, as Jack half rose, pulled him down beside him. Then motioning Frank to draw near, he whispered the startling information that a troop of horsemen was approaching along the Great Road from the direction of Korakum.
“The scout sent up the Great Road brought back the information several minutes ago,” he whispered, “and as he said the horsemen still were some distance off, I sent him down the pass to bring in the man stationed there, who, otherwise, would have been cut off. Both have just returned. I suppose you fellows were too busy to notice what was going on. Get your rifles and come along.”
Without further words, he turned and walking bent over made his way back toward the front of the plateau where Ali and his Arabs awaited. The boys, with beating hearts, seized their rifles and followed.
What did this portend? Was the band of horsemen coming to attack them? Had they been discovered? Or were the Athensians riding out to meet and escort back the raiders? Either contingency spelled disaster to their project for Bob’s rescue. Frank and Jack felt their hearts sink.
The front of the plateau, at the edge of a terrace sloping ten feet down to the road, was narrow. Their force of ten was sufficient to defend it, as Mr. Hampton had said, against an army. Lying down, a yard or two apart, they were able to cover it completely. Moreover, the thick underbrush afforded an effective screen against detection. Unless it were known they were there, or unless their presence was betrayed by some noise made by the camels, they could lie securely hidden.
Little time for speculation was afforded. Barely had the boys crept into the holes left for them in the center of the line, between Mr. Hampton and Ali, when the ringing sound of horses’ hoofs, echoing between high walls, announced the near approach of a considerable body of horsemen.
Then around the next bend above them came the leaders of the troop, riding four abreast, with loose rein, and followed by rank on rank, until a full hundred men appeared. In the lead rode the captain on a splendid black horse, not large, but beautifully built, a perfect thoroughbred. This captain was a young man, still in his thirties, beardless, bronzed, with the same hawklike nose of Amrath. The men in rank were some young, some middle-aged, and their appearance was startling. No two were dressed alike, although some form of the knee-length toga was worn by all. Some wore leggings, others rode bare-legged. Some wore remarkable helmets, not on their heads, but dangling at saddle bow, helmets of curious and exquisite workmanship. Some wore shirts of mail, of very fine links. One or two wore steel corslets. For arms, all carried long bows, quivers of arrows slung across their backs, short heavy swords by their sides like those carried by the ancient Roman centurions, and heavy spears. Perhaps a third also carried rifles.
Rank on rank this troop rode past the plateau without conversation in the ranks, each man sitting easily in the saddle, grim faced or thoughtful. On every face was a look of fine intelligence, and quite evidently the force was composed of superior men.
Jack and Frank were in a daze, lying with eyes glued to the strange sight, unable to puzzle out the meaning. Was this a troop of Athensian cavalry? Then why the ragged dress of the riders? As for Mr. Hampton, he, too, wondered, recalling that Amrath had said the common people of Athensi were steeped in ignorance. So, too, would be the Janissaries of the priest clan. Yet these men, stern and grim-faced all, looking like fighters, yet also had an appearance of great intelligence which he could not reconcile with his preconceived opinion of what the soldiers would be like.
Bathed in the sunlight which fell into the canyon from almost directly overhead, so that the windless air was close and languid, the troop passed quickly, and the last rank came in sight. Only three men rode in it, and as they came abreast of Mr. Hampton one of this number, a fine looking young fellow of medium height, with crisp curling hair lying damp on his bared forehead, turned in the saddle and called to the fourth man some distance in the rear:
“Jepthah, close up.”
Mr. Hampton’s heart seemed to turn over in his breast. As for Jack and Frank and Ali, to whom he had repeated his conversation with Amrath, they, too, recognized the name of one of the exiles of Korakum described as “true men.”
“Coming, Amonasis, coming,” called a voice merrily, and the man addressed as Jepthah came in sight. “A stone in his hoof,” he said patting the neck of his horse.
Again the repetition of a proper name caught the ears of his listeners. Amonasis. Another of those true men of Amrath’s tale. Only to Mr. Hampton, with his partial knowledge of Athensian, was the import of the conversation between Jepthah and Amonasis understandable, however.
“Let us halt a moment and await him,” said Amonasis to his two comrades, and they nodded.
All drew their horses toward the grassy terrace of the plateau, and the animals, dropping their heads, begun to nibble the grass. Not six feet from the screen of bushes behind which lay Mr. Hampton, to whom they were nearest, were they. An illuminating idea which had been struggling for birth in his mind from the first sight of the horsemen burst into full being. These were not Athensian Janissaries. On the contrary, they were revolutionaries exiled to Korakum. Simultaneously with the thought came the decision to speak to them, and Mr. Hampton called cautiously in the Athensian tongue:
“Don’t move, Amonasis. Our rifles cover you. See.”
He poked the barrel of his rifle through the screen of bushes almost into the face of the stupefied man who he addressed.
“Call Jepthah,” Mr. Hampton continued. “I have word for you two and for a third man, Shilluk, from your friend Amrath.”
“I am Shilluk,” spoke up another of the three, while Amonasis beckoned Jepthah to approach and rapidly repeated what Mr. Hampton had said, “Besides,” added Shilluk, “this is my brother, Shedrach”—pointing to the fourth. “We be all true men. What sayeth Amrath?”
“Come forth that we may see you,” said Amonasis. “Be not afraid.”
“What of the others who have gone before?” asked Mr. Hampton, with difficulty mastering all this Athensian.
“They be true men, too,” said Jepthah, in a tone of satisfaction. “Amrath should have been with us these last two days. There was a great hunting out of spies and informers in Korakum. Now all are hanged.”
At these words, Mr. Hampton arose and stepped forth, at the same time beckoning his companions to do likewise. Deepest astonishment was visible on the faces of the four Athensians at this unexpected sight.
“Who among you speaks French, Spanish or English?” Mr. Hampton asked. “Or Arabic, either?” he added, thinking of Ali. If Amrath had spoken truly in saying the revolutionaries all were young men of the priest clan who had been sent abroad in the world to study among various civilized peoples, it was possible that one of the four was capable of conducting the necessary conversation in a language more familiar to Mr. Hampton than Athensian.
Jepthah smiled.
“You are an Englishman?” he asked, in English with only a trace of accent. “I have served in the Egyptian armies of England and know the language, perhaps a trifle better than you, sir”—with a deprecatory bow—“know our native tongue.”
“Not English,” said Mr. Hampton smiling, “but American. However, our tongue is the same and I’m mighty glad to meet a man who can speak it.”
Jepthah bowed. Politeness among these men seemed unfailing.
“If you are a friend of Amrath,” he said, “we can speak plainly. We are on an important mission and must not delay. What message does he send, and where is he? We feared he had been done away with.”
“He was attacked by Athensian soldiers,” said Mr. Hampton, coming at once to the point, “and left for dead at a desert oasis six days journey distant to the north. We found him and nursed him back to life. He was still weak and could not move, but was out of danger, when we left him a week ago. His message to you was that you should help us. My son,” he added simply, “has been captured by Athensian raiders, and from what Amrath told us we fear he is destined to take part in the Sacrificial Games. We are here to attempt his rescue.”
Jepthah looked along the line.
“Ten men to assail Athensi,” he said. “You are very brave.”
Mr. Hampton flushed.
“We love him,” he said. “He is a great athlete and undoubtedly has been captured for the Games. At Amrath’s direction we came directly to this point in order to arrive in advance of my son’s captors who, said Amrath, would take a circuitous course in order to touch at three water holes. My son’s captors were only eight or ten in number, we believe. And we feel certain we have arrived ahead of them. Here we lay in ambush since before dawn, when by chance as you passed I heard repeated the names of those true men Amrath told me to seek in Korakum, and so appealed to you.”
During the course of this recital, Jepthah’s face betrayed increasing excitement, and barely had Mr. Hampton concluded than the young Athensian turned to his companions and began translating in their own language at a rate far too rapid for Mr. Hampton to follow.
Immediately Shedrach and Shilluk whirled their horses and started down the Great Road at a breakneck pace.
“They go to tell our captain, Amanassar, what you have said,” explained Jepthah, again falling into English and addressing Mr. Hampton. “If the troop has not yet debouched into the desert, he will turn back and in the pass will await your son’s captors.”
“What if the troop did get into the desert, and happened to be seen by the raiders,” asked Jack, anxiously. “Would the fellows who hold Bob prisoner realize your people are enemies and flee?”
“I do not know,” said Jepthah. “Revolution has been brewing for long, but this is our first open move. Yesterday we hung all spies and informers among us. Athensi is unapproachable by this direction except through a subterranean river, which is heavily guarded. Today we are on our way to approach the city through the mountains by another entrance over the Mountain Wall. We plan to raise the standard of revolt against the priests and their Janissaries, among the peasants and country people.”
The noonday heat was oppressive in the open, and the faces of the two Athensians glistened with perspiration as they sat their horses in the sun. Mr. Hampton noting this, suggested they enter the shade of the grove on the plateau pending the return of their comrades, and Amonasis and Jepthah willingly spurred their horses up the sloping terrace. Eager to be of service, Jack hastened to the rear of the plateau, returning presently with a bucket of clear cold spring water which proved very refreshing to the travellers.
“You found an admirable place for an ambush,” remarked Jepthah, looking about approvingly. “I have not been here before. Korakum is a considerable distance up the Great Road, and we seldom have come down here as it was unnecessary, we thought, to keep watch on the desert. Only as we passed through, in order to gain the other trail and labor on repairing it, have we gone up and down.”