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Title: The Treasure of the Tigris: A Tale of Mesopotamia

Author: A. F. Mockler-Ferryman

Release date: March 20, 2011 [eBook #35615]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TREASURE OF THE TIGRIS: A TALE OF MESOPOTAMIA ***




Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net









                      THE TREASURE OF THE TIGRIS

                        A TALE OF MESOPOTAMIA

               BY LIEUT.-COLONEL A. F. MOCKLER-FERRYMAN


    AUTHOR OF "LIFE STORY OF A TIGER"
    "HEMMED IN" ETC.

    WITH EIGHT FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
    IN COLOUR BY ALLAN STEWART

    A. & C. BLACK LTD.
    4, 5 & 6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W.1

    PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

    _First published in 1908_




[Illustration: "I BALANCED IT EXACTLY, AND SLOWLY AND STEADILY DREW IT
UP"]




CONTENTS


I. INSTRUCTIONS

II. ACROSS MESOPOTAMIA

III. INTO THE DESERT

IV. GUESTS OF THE AENIZA

V. RAIDERS

VI. THE SHEIK'S STORY

VII. THE FIRE OF THE GODS

VIII. RASPUL, THE SEER

IX. IN THE TEMPLE OF SOPHANA

X. A DASH FOR FREEDOM

XI. ONLY HALF A CAPTURE

XII. RIVAL DOCTORS

XIII. WAR'S ALARM

XIV. THE BURST OF THE STORM

XV. FATE

XVI. RESCUE

XVII. THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT

XVIII. TRUE FRIENDSHIP

XIX. IN CLOVER

XX. RE-UNION

XXI. A DESPERATE PLUNGE

XXII. BROTHERS AND CONSPIRATORS

XXIII. DAUD'S ADVENTURES

XXIV. THE DEVIL'S WELL

XXV. FOR DEAR LIFE

XXVI. A HAVEN OF REST

XXVII. VISITORS

XXVIII. MYSTERIES, SOLVED AND UNSOLVED

XXIX. A PROPHECY FULFILLED




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR

BY ALLAN STEWART


"I BALANCED IT EXACTLY, AND SLOWLY AND STEADILY DREW IT UP!"

"THAT THIS WAS THE SHEIK HIMSELF WE INSTANTLY REALISED"

"HE PROSTRATED HIMSELF BEFORE THE GODDESS, AND BESOUGHT HER TO GIVE HEAT
TO THE FIRE"

"'BY THE WILL OF ALLAH,' HE SAID, 'THE CHILD IS SICK'"

"WHEN NEXT I AWOKE, EDWARDS WAS SITTING BY MY SIDE"

"DAYLIGHT SHOWED US, IN THE FAR DISTANCE, THE MOUND OF THE BIRS NIMROUD"

"WE COULD SEE BELOW US ... THE FIGURE OF A MAN LYING ACROSS THE GUNWALE"

"THE TWO OF THEM AS PROUD AS PEACOCKS"




THE TREASURE OF THE TIGRIS




CHAPTER I.

INSTRUCTIONS.


First of all, I must explain how it happened that I, Walter Henderson,
whom, I have every reason to believe, my masters regarded as a very
ordinary kind of boy, should have blossomed within a couple of years of
leaving school into a person of some importance. I say this with all
modesty, though my enemies will doubtless cast it in my teeth that no
modest man would write a book about himself.

On events which prevented my getting a commission in the Army, after
nearly having completed my course at Sandhurst, I do not propose to
dwell. At the time I considered the whole affair to be an error of
judgment, though my father ascribed it to lack of brains and too much
cricket. Be all that as it may, the fact remains that before I was
twenty, all my military ambition had been nipped in the bud, and I was
incarcerated in the back premises of that imposing but dreary-looking
old building, the British Museum. My uncle, Professor Ambrose Wentworth,
had taken compassion on me, and had appointed me his private secretary,
at a nominal salary. It was not at all the sort of life that I had
mapped out for myself, as I had fully made up my mind to be a soldier,
as most of my ancestors had been; and, as a matter of fact, had it not
been for my mother's entreaties, I should have enlisted directly I left
Sandhurst.

My uncle's particular line was Babylonian history, and probably no
living man knew more about history tablets, cylinder seals, and such
like things, than did he. As was, perhaps, only natural in a man whose
whole existence was wrapped up in deciphering cuneiform inscriptions and
hieroglyphics, he wrote an almost illegible hand, and it was my duty to
make fair copies of all his letters and documents--a task which I found
not only most uncongenial but also decidedly difficult. However, I did
my best, and my uncle was always kind and considerate; but I could see
that he was disappointed that he had been unable, at the end of a year,
to make me enthusiastic in the matter of his hobby. At last came the day
when I really thought that I could stand the life no longer. It was
towards the end of November; we had had a fortnight of dreary fogs and
drizzling rain, during which time I had worked by artificial light
continuously, and as I took my seat at my desk I made up my mind that
this day should be my last at the British Museum. Whether my uncle
observed my dejection, or whether his archæological researches had
produced in him the faculty of seeing through a brick wall, I cannot
say, but when he entered the room in which I was at work, he came up to
me and laid his hand gently on my shoulder.

"Walter, my boy," he said, "you don't like this sedentary life, I can
see."

"It is the weather, uncle," said I. "I think it has got on my nerves."

"Well," said my uncle, "I have been meaning to speak to you for some
time. You have stuck to your uninteresting work for months without a
murmur, and you have proved to me that you have plenty of grit. I can
now offer you a change. Mr Jenkins and I have been talking matters
over, and we want someone to go to Babylon for us. We have come to the
end of our arm-chair researches, and we can do nothing more without a
man on the spot. If you like to undertake to study hard for six months,
we will send you out on a voyage of discovery for us. You will have to
make up your mind to real hard work, but I promise you that you will
have a thoroughly interesting trip, and will see a good deal of the
world. I will tell you plainly what you will have to do. In the first
place, you must be able to read cuneiform inscriptions and translate
them readily; secondly, you will have to learn a certain amount of
Arabic, so as to be able to converse with the natives; and lastly, you
will be required to go on an expedition to Babylon by yourself, and
follow up the work that Layard and others commenced. You can think it
over for twenty-four hours, and let me know whether you will undertake
it, or whether we shall have to look out for someone else."

I need, perhaps, hardly say that, as I was only too keen to travel, I
accepted the offer, and I began my six months' course of instruction
forthwith. It was hard work, as my uncle had foretold, and nearly nine
months passed before I was considered fit to start on my voyage of
discovery. But, at the end of that time, my study had resulted in making
quite an enthusiast of me, and I was most eager to get away to the land
which had already given to the world so many historical treasures.

Then arrived the eventful evening when I was to receive my final
instructions, and I was closeted with my uncle and Mr Jenkins for
several hours, listening to the great scheme that I was intended to
attempt to carry through. Up till then I had had no inkling that my trip
was to be anything more than an ordinary digging undertaking, in the
hope of finding something new; but when I entered my uncle's sanctum, I
soon saw that he and his assistant had something important to discuss
with me.

"Well, Walter," my uncle began, "the time has come at last; you are off
to-morrow, and now we are going to tell you the great secret that is
known only to Mr Jenkins and myself. If either of us were young enough
to undertake the work, you may be sure that we should not have let you
do it. But it wants a young and an energetic man to carry it through,
and that is why we have gone to the trouble of training you. What we are
going to disclose to you is absolutely in confidence; you must reveal it
to no one; for, as you will see, on the keeping of the secret depends
the whole success of your expedition."

My uncle now unlocked a safe, from which he took a tin despatch-box.
Then, unfastening a bundle of papers, he began:--

"THE GIRDLE OF SOPHANA, THE GREAT QUEEN. That is what we want you to
find. It exists, or it did a few years ago, beyond a doubt. If you can
discover it and bring it to England, you will be a made man. If you
fail, we shall not blame you. But I will tell you what we know about it.
Mr Jenkins and I have devoted years to the matter, and, from what we
have been able to gather from scraps of information, collected from
history tablets and other sources, we know that Queen Sophana was
possessed of a girdle of solid gold. Exactly what it was like we do not
know, though several life-like snakes are said to have been embossed
upon it, and it was supposed to have been possessed of certain magic
properties. We have not much to go upon, but we will not keep anything
from you, and you shall hear how we have put two and two together. In
the first place, the ancient representations, on cylinder seals and such
like things, of the queen, always show the girdle or belt round her
waist; secondly, the old writers, in describing the queen, frequently
refer to the magic belt; thirdly, on a fragment of a history tablet we
have found clear evidence that, on the death of the queen, her favourite
handmaiden dressed her mistress in pure white clothes and carefully
fastened on the girdle before the corpse was laid in the coffin of baked
clay.

"Then there are several other tablets on which mention is made of the
girdle; and we have copies of all these things ready for you to take
with you. But we should never have thought of trying to unearth this
treasure, had it not been for information of a much more recent date
that has come to us. Barely sixty years ago, some members of an Arab
tribe ransacking the ruins of Babylon, found, bricked up in a solid wall
many feet underground, a substantial tomb; inside the tomb were several
coffins, and within one of these, encircling a shrivelled corpse, lay a
belt of golden snakes--massive and of great weight. Now comes the
difficulty; for, according to the story which the Arabs relate, the
finders of the treasure, from the moment that they took possession of
it, suffered every species of calamity. But of all this you must read in
the manuscripts which we are handing over to you; it is too long a story
to go into now, and I need only tell you the end. The golden girdle was
eventually buried in the place where it had been found, by the sole
survivor of a family of the Shammar tribe, in whose possession it had
been for some years; and, in order that no one should notice that the
ground had recently been turned over, the man obliterated all trace of
his work by setting fire to the scrub jungle far and wide. Lastly, we
have the climax; the Arab committed suicide on the bank of the
Euphrates, by falling on the point of his broken spear.

"What you have to do is to endeavour to find out the spot where the man
buried the girdle; dig it up, and bring it home. Mr Jenkins and I have
written down our views as to how we think this can best be done; but you
must consider what we have written as mere suggestions, and you must be
guided by circumstances. We do not pretend to be anything more than
students and theorists; and, unhappily, such men as Layard and
Rawlinson, who could have helped us, have long since passed away. In
reading through your papers, you will, of course, come across a deal of
Eastern superstition; but I think that you are matter-of-fact enough to
pay no attention to the supposed magical properties of the girdle, or
any nonsense of that kind."

The remainder of the conversation it is unnecessary to give. I received
lengthy instructions as to the voyage, as to secrecy, and as to more
commonplace matters of business--how I was to draw money for my
expenses, and so forth. No detail had been forgotten by my uncle and his
assistant, who, I discovered, were staking their reputations on the
success of my quest.

I was handed a despatch-box containing, as I was told, all papers
bearing on the object of my journey; and then, like many another, I,
Walter Henderson, buoyed up with hope and puffed up with pride, left the
Museum under the impression that I was fairly on the road to fame.




CHAPTER II.

ACROSS MESOPOTAMIA.


About my voyage out I shall say little--for it was much like any
ordinary voyage to the East--and of the passengers one only need be
mentioned. That one joined the steamer at Marseilles, and became my
cabin companion. He was a German, named Kellner, an amusing and pleasant
individual, who talked English perfectly, and who, in spite of the fact
that he seldom lined up for his morning bath, was tolerably clean. For
some considerable time I could not make out what his business was, but
at last I discovered that he was a "traveller in glass and china," and
was going to Karachi. He interested me a good deal, as he appeared to be
thoroughly well educated, and able to discuss almost any topic.

At Karachi I had to remain two days, waiting for the Persian Gulf
steamer, and when I embarked again I found, to my astonishment and no
little joy, that the only other passenger on board was my friend
Kellner. He explained his unexpected reappearance by saying that he had
had a telegram from his firm, telling him to go on up the Gulf, as there
was a good opening for trade at Bushire and Baghdad. I was delighted at
having his companionship, and during the next week our friendship
increased considerably, so much so, that when we put in at Bushire, I
persuaded him to come on with me to Baghdad, and first do his business
there, taking Bushire on his way back. As was only natural, I had
talked over my plans with him freely, though I had never divulged the
secret of the Girdle, merely telling him that I was going to excavate at
Babylon for the British Museum. He was politely interested in all I had
to say, but he was not enthusiastic, giving it as his opinion that it
would be much more practical to induce the people to take to European
goods and forget all about their past history.

At last we got up to Bussorah, went on board the river steamer, and
after four or five days on the Tigris, came alongside the wharf at
Baghdad. I was duly accredited to the British consul-general, and was
met by a kawas, who removed me, bag and baggage, to the Residency at
once. Kellner went off with an Armenian gentleman, who, he told me, was
agent for the firm for which he was travelling, and we parted with many
expressions of regret that our long voyage was at an end.

The Consul-General had, I found, received a despatch from the Foreign
Office about me, instructing him to assist me in every possible way, and
he was kindness itself. I soon decided that there could be no possible
harm in my telling him the object of my journey; in fact, I came to the
conclusion that it was absolutely necessary. He said that I would have a
most exciting hunt, and that he himself would have liked to have
accompanied me, but unfortunately he could not leave Baghdad for some
time. The Residency surgeon, who had only been in the country about
eighteen months, wanted to visit Babylon, and it was soon settled that
he should go with me--an arrangement that pleased me immensely, as
George Edwards was a man of the world, with a delightful personality. It
took a few days to get things in order: the _firman_ from the Turkish
Government examined and signed by the governor; servants and horses
engaged, and an escort of mounted zaptiehs provided.

At length everything was ready, and, the evening before our departure,
I overhauled all the papers in my despatch-box, in order to refresh my
memory. I had studied them thoroughly on the voyage out, and knew their
contents almost by heart. I had even gone to the length of making a
_précis_ of everything in a note-book. I thought it advisable, however,
to have a final look through the papers, as I did not wish to encumber
myself with the heavy despatch-box, which I had arranged to leave with
the Consul-General. On opening the box I found, to my surprise, all the
papers in a state of confusion--confusion which could not have arisen
from the box having been turned upside down, because I always kept the
papers, which were docketed and tied up in order, in their proper
places, by filling up the box with two thick books. The books I now
found nearly at the bottom of the box, and the bundles of papers were
all untied and thoroughly mixed up. Someone had tampered with the box;
there was not a doubt of it. I hastily checked off the papers with the
inventory in my note-book, and, to my dismay, discovered that one was
missing. I went over everything again--the missing document contained a
carefully-drawn plan of the ruins of Babylon, with instructions as to
the best method of attempting to locate the burial-place of the Girdle.
It was, to my mind, the most important paper in the box; but its loss
was not irreparable, as I had fortunately made copious notes from it,
and possessed a duplicate plan. Nevertheless, it was most annoying to
find that someone had been turning over my papers, and I mentioned the
matter to my host at dinner that night.

"What sort of lock have you got on the box?" he asked.

"A Brahma," I replied, "and the key is on my watch-chain."

"Have you ever left your watch lying about?"

"Never; I have always been most particular about it."

Then I remembered that the day I went on shore at Muskat, I had left my
watch in my cabin. I remembered the fact, because when I visited Jelali
Fort, the governor showed me his watch, and I put my hand in my pocket
to take out mine, wishing to explain the advantages of a repeater, but
discovered that I had left it behind.

"Haven't you opened the box since then?" inquired the Consul-General.

"No, I don't think I have looked at it since I left Karachi."

"Well, probably the inquisitive steward went through your belongings
while you were on shore at Muskat, in hopes of finding a stray
bank-note, and I expect in his hurry he omitted to put all the papers
back."

So we forgot all about the incident, and the following morning Edwards
and I, with our cavalcade of pack-horses, and our soldierly-looking
escort, left the Residency, and riding down the dirty, narrow lane to
the bazaar, crossed the quaint old bridge of boats and got away into the
desert beyond. As we looked back we saw the Consul-General in a _kufa_
in mid-stream waving a last farewell to us, and then we put our little
Arab horses into a canter, and soon settled down for the ride to the
khan (or caravanserai) of Mahmoudieh. It was late when we reached the
solid gate of the khan, and it was closed for the night, but we managed
to find accommodation in the little coffee shanty just outside.

A couple of Bedouin chiefs were in possession of the only room, so the
verandah was handed over to us, and, the night being warm, it was far
pleasanter than being inside, though the corporal of our escort did not
at all like the arrangement, and tried to persuade us that it was most
unsafe to sleep as it were in the open, in a country which was known to
be swarming with robbers and cutthroats. Being Englishmen, we laughed at
the corporal's fears, and after supper and a smoke we turned in on the
frail wicker-work, crate-like beds that had been provided for us, taking
the precaution, however, to have our revolvers handy, and to put
everything of value either under the beds or under our bodies. How long
we had slept I cannot say; I had been dreaming hard, and I had dreamt
that I had found the Golden Girdle--I held it in my hand and gazed at it
in wonder--I found the clasp--with great difficulty I unfastened it--I
put it round my waist--I felt for the clasp to fasten it--nothing would
induce it to close. I pulled with all my might--the Girdle was too small
for my waist. I seized both ends in my hands, held my breath, and pulled
again. My waist was growing smaller and smaller--my body seemed to be
breaking in half. I gave a wild yell, and the clasp snapped with a
report like that of a pistol shot. And it was indeed a pistol shot.

As I awoke with a start, I found that the whole place was in a wild
state of commotion; the zaptiehs were all around us with lanterns, and
Edwards was standing by the side of his bed, with revolver in hand.

"What on earth is the matter?" I asked.

"Had a shot at a blackguard trying to loot our kit, but failed to score,
I am afraid," was the reply.

Then Edwards told us all about it; how he had been aroused by my
restlessness, how he saw, in the moonlight, two men kneeling close to my
bed, and how he quietly took his revolver from under his pillow, and
sprang up, only, however, in time to get a flying shot at the men as
they made off. Their horses were just outside the verandah, and the
thieves were on them and away before he could get another shot in. Our
troopers wanted to go in pursuit, but it would have been perfectly
useless their going out into the desert, as they had not the remotest
idea which road to follow; so we contented ourselves with the
examination of our belongings, to see what we had lost. My heart
absolutely stopped beating when I discovered that my money-belt had gone
from my waist. It was a chamois-leather belt that I had had specially
made in England, with neat little pockets all round it, in which I
carried the whole of my money--about £50 in sovereigns, and a certain
number of silver kerans and rupees.

We were not long in finding out who the thieves were, as the owner of
the house came running out to tell us that the two Bedouin chiefs had
disappeared without paying for their supper or lodgings. Then I
remembered that one of them had passed through the verandah to the inner
room while I was fastening the belt over my sleeping-suit, and he must
have noticed what I was doing, and guessed that the belt was worth
having. My dream all came back to me, and of course my long struggle
with the Golden Girdle was probably caused by the Bedouins taking off my
belt; but I cannot imagine how they got it off without awakening me. It
was gone; there was no doubt about that; and, turning to the
coffee-house man, I demanded what he knew of his two runaway guests.

"Lord!" he replied, "I never set eyes on them before this night. They
arrived after the gates of the khan were shut, and, saying that they had
ridden from the Euphrates, they begged a night's lodging before going on
to Baghdad. What manner of men they were I knew not. I swear it."

I believed him, for he was a Jew, and therefore not likely to give board
and lodging to two strangers unless he thought that they were
respectable and likely to pay their bill. Still, I was not quite certain
that the old gentleman was not a confederate of the Bedouins, so I
called the corporal and told him that I thought he had better take the
owner of the place into Baghdad as a prisoner, and report what had
happened. The consternation of the Jew when he heard the order is
indescribable. He grovelled on the ground at my feet; flung the dust
over his head, and swore to me that he was innocent of participating in
any plot. To be sent in to the Turkish governor of Baghdad would mean
his ruin. He would not be heard. He was a Jew, and there was no justice
for Jews. He begged and implored me to have mercy and to believe his
word. As a matter of fact, I had not the slightest intention of losing
the services of our escort by sending them back to Baghdad, and I was
quite confident that the Jew knew nothing of the robbery. The loss of
the money, however, was rather a serious thing, though, fortunately,
Edwards was carrying enough to supply our probable wants for some time;
and before making a start I sent a letter to the Consul-General, telling
him what had occurred, and asking him to send me some more money to
Babylon. As can be imagined, we were not too well pleased with the
result of our first night in Mesopotamia, and for the next night or two
we took the precaution to keep a sentry on duty while we slept.

Getting away as early as possible in the morning, we rode hard all day,
and, after passing Khan Haswa and Khan Mahawill, at sunset we crossed
the remains of the ancient Parthian earthworks, and entered the ruins of
the Great City, taking up our quarters at dusk on a roof-top of the
little modern village of Babil, lying close by the Euphrates. Every
house in the village was built of bricks dug out of the ruins of famous
Babylon; on every brick was the superscription of Nebuchadnezzar; and it
was with almost sacrilegious feelings that we lay down to rest among
such romantic and old-world surroundings.




CHAPTER III.

INTO THE DESERT.


Riding over the ruins on the following day, I realised for the first
time the immense task that I had undertaken. In all directions there
stretched miles and miles of barren land, with here and there low
mounds, ditches, and heaps of rubbish, overgrown with scrub and coarse
grass. Actual ruins, such as walls and the remains of buildings above
ground, there were none, though an occasional long deep trench, dug by
modern excavators, disclosed the presence of a wall at a considerable
depth below the surface. For centuries the place had been ransacked for
bricks to build the towns and villages in the neighbourhood, and even
now I found natives with donkeys loading up the panniers with masses of
broken brickwork.

With the scanty information that I possessed, to attempt to commence
digging for the Golden Girdle was, of course, hopeless--far more
hopeless than looking for a needle in fifty bundles of hay. I, however,
made a thorough exploration of the ruins, and corrected and added to my
maps, deciding that the next step to be taken was to get away among the
Bedouin tribes, and to try to discover some sort of clue as to the
burial-place of the Girdle. Why I thought of the Bedouins as likely to
be of assistance was this; I had among my papers a full-sized drawing of
an Arab horse-shoe, and my uncle had shown me the actual shoe, the
peculiar shape of which at the time interested me a good deal, though I
now found that similar ones were worn by all the Arab horses. It was a
thin disc of metal with a hole in the centre, but it differed from most
shoes in that it had eight nail-holes instead of the usual six. With the
drawing was the translation of a document, and a note to the effect that
the horse-shoe and its description were obtained from the Munshi Abdul
Aziz of Kerbela, and brought to England in 1899 by a certain Captain
Johnson, who was subsequently killed in South Africa. The document
itself ran as follows:-

     "_In the name of God, the Merciful and Compassionate, and, Said
     Mohammed, Agent of the High God, and of the Companions of Mohammed.
     Praised be the Lord, the Omnipotent Creator._

     "This is the Na'l Talisman of the Muntafik, which at one time
     adorned the hoof of the beautiful mare Shahzadi, by a Kuhailan
     Haifi sire, out of the dam Labadah. The famous mare, known to all
     the tribes, was captured by Feyzul, sheik of the Jelas Aeniza, from
     the Sheik Jedaan-ibn-Mirshid, who was killed in battle, when a
     portion of the Salama tribe of the Shammar was utterly defeated on
     the 17th of the month Saphar, A.H. 1281. Of the ill-omened Salama
     there escaped but one man, who was riding a brown horse, with four
     white feet and a white mark on the forehead, said by some to have
     been of the true breed of Saklawi, by others of Ubaiyan. The man
     bore away the serpent belt of pure gold, coveted by the desert
     tribes."

On the back of the original paper was scribbled in pencil:-

     "The shoe and its history were given to me by my old friend, Munshi
     Abdul Aziz, on his deathbed, in return for some slight services
     which I had rendered him in connection with the annual payment of
     pilgrim money. He told me that it had been carried, for many years,
     as a talisman, on the neck of the mare ridden by a former sheik of
     the Muntafik. How it came into his possession he preferred not to
     disclose; but he said that it was well known that the mare Shahzadi
     was shod on the off hind foot with an eight nailed shoe (the near
     hind, of course, having no shoe). H. J., 8.4.98."

I had already regarded this document as of very great importance, and I
now decided that my first object should be to discover Feyzul, and learn
what he had to say about the golden belt. It was true that Feyzul might
not be alive, and his tribe, in its turn, might have been wiped off the
face of the earth; but still it was the only clue, and it seemed to me
to be worth while following up. So we left Babil and went off to the
town of Hillah, where we imagined we might be able to get the desired
information from the Turkish police officer, whose duty it was to keep
an eye on the Bedouin tribes of the neighbourhood. The officer was most
polite, and, after inspecting my passport and _firman_, sent for his
sergeant, and asked him what was the latest information that he had of
the Jelas sheik.

The sergeant, with much pomp and ceremony, produced a note-book from his
pocket, and rapidly turning over the leaves, at length came to the page
he wanted, when he read out deliberately and in a low voice:--

"Faris-ibn-Feyzul, tribe of Jelas, otherwise Ruwalla, of the Aeniza; 742
men; 428 women; many children; valuable mares and stallions; also camels
and sheep. Blood feud with the Salama of the Shammar; constantly
fighting. The tribe was driven from the Ndjef marshes by the Turkish
troops two months ago, and was reported to have moved about four days
south."

"Is that all?"

"It is all that I know, captain, for, as you are aware, I have been out
in the northern district for the past month."

"What age do you suppose this Faris to be?" I asked.

"Oh, anything over fifty-five, might be seventy, but rides and fights
like a man of thirty."

Then the officer suddenly appeared to become inquisitive, and asked me
why I was so anxious to find this particular Arab chief, who had not the
best of reputations. For the moment I was rather nonplussed, but I
satisfied him by saying that I had been told that he and his tribe knew
the ruins of Babylon better than most people, and that they would be
sure to know what parts had been explored by previous excavators. In the
end the sergeant was told to try and find out where the chief had his
headquarters, and during the next few days I and my party were
entertained by the police officer, who showed us all the sights of the
neighborhood--including the so-called Tower of Babel, or Birs Nimroud.

Before the end of the week Faris-ibn-Feyzul had been discovered, and the
sergeant proudly related how one of his men had seen him in the bazaar
at Kerbela, and had tracked him for three days and nights out into the
desert, and had found his tribe encamped barely two days' ride from
Hillah.

So far so good. I knew that the Jelas tribe still existed, and though
Sheik Feyzul was dead, his son Faris reigned in his stead. The next
point was how to open up communications with him.

"It would be perfectly useless my sending for him," said the Turkish
officer, "for he would not come. They are most independent devils, all
these Bedouins, and you cannot even bribe them. You might send a dozen
messages to this Faris, and tell him that you would pay him a thousand
kerans a day for his services, but that would not be an inducement to
him. He would imagine that we had designs on him."

"I must get hold of him somehow," I said; "what do you think I had
better do?"

"There is only one way that I can see," was the reply. "Leave your
zaptiehs here, and ride off with your friend to Faris's camp without an
escort. I will give you a guide to show you the way, but he must leave
you as soon as you are within sight of the camp. It will be somewhat
risky, as, of course, the Jelas people may take you for Turks and make
short work of you, but if you pretend to be simple English travellers
having lost the way, I daresay it will be all right. I shall, however,
have to get you to give me a paper saying that you left Hillah against
my wish, in case you come to grief, as otherwise I might get into
trouble."

Edwards and I agreed that we had better make the plunge into the desert,
and leaving our belongings in charge of the zaptiehs, with strict
injunction that if nothing was heard of us within a week, they were to
follow us up, we gave the Turk his clearance certificate, and rode off
with our guide at daybreak next morning.

After a somewhat uninteresting ride of a long day, with always in front
of us a mirage rising out of the sandy desert, and enticing us to put
spurs to our horses and gallop to the shade of the palm-groves, which
appeared to grow on the edge of a lake surrounding a great city and its
thousand minarets; after halting for the night in a real date garden, we
arrived late in the afternoon of the second day on a low ridge from
which the country around was visible for many miles. Here the guide
stopped, telling us that we would now have to proceed alone. He then
pointed out the line which we were to take--roughly south-west--showing
us, in the far distance, a tiny speck, which he pronounced to be the
encampment of the Jelas sheik. Looking through our field-glasses, we
could just discern the resemblance to an encampment, but the prospect of
reaching it before dark seemed small. The guide, however, assured us
that it was not as far off as we imagined; the country was deceptive;
and we should probably reach our destination before sundown. With hearts
none too light, we parted from the guide, and started in a bee-line for
our goal.

Before going any great distance, we got hung up by a morass, which had
to be circumvented; then the horses showed signs of being fatigued, and
we were obliged to get off and lead them.

"A jolly wild goose chase this seems to be," said Edwards, somewhat
sulkily.

"Not very cheerful, is it?" I replied.

Neither of us spoke again for about half an hour. The sun was gradually
nearing the horizon. It would be pitch dark in less than an hour.
Edwards stopped.

"What are we going to do?" he asked. "We can't possibly reach the
beastly place before dark, and we are not likely to find it when we
can't see where we are going. I vote we chuck it, have some food, and
bivouac here till the morning."

"Don't you believe it," said I, "what sort of a person do you take me
for? Do you suppose I have been looking at this compass of mine ever
since we left the guide simply to amuse myself? I have got the bearing
of old Faris's centre wigwam to a nicety. The compass is a luminous one.
Look at it. Do you see the luminous paint? Well, as soon as it gets
properly dark and the stars are nice and bright, I'll take you along
quite gaily."

Edwards was interested. He had never seen a luminous compass before, and
confessed that he had no idea that anyone could wander about in a desert
at night and discover where he was going. Now, as a matter of fact, I
was not at all confident of my ability to use a compass at night; for,
since leaving Sandhurst, I had never troubled about these matters.
Still, I could see that my companion did not much like the look of the
situation, so I thought it best to reassure him.

The compass worked far better than I expected--indeed so accurately as
to almost result in our coming to an untimely end. The darkness that had
settled in very shortly after sunset was of the blackest, the stars
standing out with remarkable brilliancy. Whether it was that my nerves
were strained to the utmost, or that it was the first night that I had
spent in the absolute solitude of the vast desert, I cannot say, but I
can never remember in all my subsequent travels any night that
approached this one for inky blackness. On we trudged over the hard,
baked sand, still warm to the feet, and making the air warm as high as
one's chest; above that, a cool invigorating breeze blew about our
heads. Under other circumstances, we should have delighted in the night
march; as it was, we were both too jumpy to appreciate it.

Suddenly, at a little distance to our right, a dog barked, and almost
instantaneously half a dozen shots were fired. Fortunately, they were
evidently fired haphazard, for none of them came in our direction, but
our reception was far too warm to be pleasant, so I shouted in the best
Arabic that I could command:--

"Salaam Aleikum! We are two English travellers who have lost our way. We
seek hospitality for the night, and to be put on our road in the
morning."

There was no reply, though we could hear voices quite close, and could
now distinguish the form of the tents of the encampment. My compass had
landed us within a hundred yards of the right spot, but I had no thought
for the moment of congratulating myself on its accuracy, or on my skill
in handling it. It was a question whether we should have a volley fired
into us, or whether our account of ourselves would be accepted. All
doubt, however, was soon swept away, when a stentorian voice came out of
the darkness:--

"If you are, as you say, Ingleezee who have lost your way, let one man
advance and the other remain a while behind."

I immediately advanced, while Edwards stood his ground. At the doorway
of a large tent I was received by a handsome young Arab, around whom
clustered a number of wild-looking men and women. Oil wick lamps were
raised to my face, and after a few searching questions, the men
appeared to be satisfied, and told me that my companion could come in.
As soon as Edwards appeared, the young Arab, who was evidently the chief
of the party, looked intently into his face, then, flinging himself on
the ground at his feet, became almost convulsed with emotion.

"It is the great _Hakim_ (doctor)," he exclaimed, "_Alhamdu
l'Illah_--Praise be to Allah--I have met him again. The blessed Hakim
who saved my life when I was left for dead by the accursed Shammar. Oh,
God is great to let me see him again, and befriend him in the desert."

We were soon surrounded by as many of the tribe as were able to crowd
into the tent, and the doorway was blocked with the remainder. Edwards
was the centre of attraction, and his Arab friend regaled his
fellow-tribesmen with countless personal experiences of the Hakim's
skill. But, in the excitement, our wants were not forgotten; our horses
were taken away and cared for; women brought in vessels of sour _leben_,
and dishes of meat and unleavened bread, of which we ate with an
appetite whetted by a hard day's march and by the keen, crisp air of the
desert night. Neither was this all, for the floor of the tent was
rapidly piled up with carpets and rugs, conveyed by numerous eager
hands, and after taking the most affectionate farewell for the night,
Sedjur, our host prepared to leave us to ourselves.

"But, Sedjur," said Edwards, holding the young chief's hand, "you have
not told me why you are here, six days' journey to the west of Baghdad;
when in the hospital, you always said you came from the north, from near
Mosul."

"True, O Hakim," was the reply, "but we of the desert have no fixed
home. We wander hither and thither. Yet I confess that I lied to you
when I said that I came from the north. To have disclosed my identity
would have imperilled the safety of my tribe for the son of Faris would
have been a rare prize for the Turki Spahis (a curse on them!), and they
would have tortured me until they had discovered the movements of my
father and his people."

"Are you, then, Faris's son?" inquired Edwards.

"Even so."

"Where then is the sheik, your father?"

"He left, two days since, with ten picked men, to effect the capture of
the horses of some Shammar robbers who were reported to be at Babil. He
will return before sundown to-morrow, and he will then offer you the
full hospitality of the tribe."

"Well, peace be with you, Sedjur, at any rate for this night, and plenty
of hard fighting before long. That is the greatest joy I can wish you, I
know."

Sedjur's face brightened, and his keen eyes glistened as he turned and
left us. When we were alone, I asked my companion to explain how, in the
middle of the night and in the middle of the desert, he had suddenly
found fame. It was not a long story, because George Edwards was the sort
of person who made a story about himself as short as possible. The
Consul-General, it appeared, was riding out, with a small escort, near
Zobeidé's Tomb, one evening about a year before, and came across a man
lying in an exhausted condition under a bush. The man was unable to give
an account of himself, but he was evidently in desperate straits, with
several sword cuts on his body and one or two ugly spear gashes. The
Englishman made his escort carry the wretched Arab into Baghdad and hand
him over to the Residency surgeon, and, as Edwards concluded, "I looked
after him, tinkered up his wounds, and was just going to discharge him
from hospital, when he discharged himself--made a bolt of it one fine
night."

"Edwards," I said, when he had finished, "you are a marvel. There never
was such a stroke of luck. If all accounts of these people be true, you
have secured the everlasting friendship of Faris and all his tribe. We
are made men--that is to say if Faris really knows anything of the
Golden Girdle."

Edwards's reply was a long, loud snore, and it was not many minutes
before I myself sank into that blissful state of oblivion which is
begotten of sheer exhaustion.




CHAPTER IV.

GUESTS OF THE AENIZA.


How long we should have slept if left undisturbed I cannot imagine. The
sun must have been up an hour or more before we were suddenly awakened
by shouting in the camp almost amounting to an uproar. On jumping up and
looking out, we found that the small black tents were being hastily
struck, and the whole place was in confusion. We saw, at a little
distance, Sedjur talking excitedly to a couple of dozen horsemen armed
to the teeth. Presently he moved towards our tent, the mounted men
following him. As they drew near we stepped outside to receive them, and
were greeted by a shout from Sedjur, who was walking by the side of the
horse ridden by a great gaunt Arab. That this was the sheik himself we
instantly realised--so much alike were father and son--and any doubt
that we had was soon dispelled by the introduction that followed.

[Illustration: "THAT THIS WAS THE SHEIK HIMSELF WE INSTANTLY REALISED"]

The sheik welcomed us cordially, and thanked Edwards for all the
kindness that he had shown to his son in Baghdad. Unfortunately, he
said, he could not now ask us to partake of his hospitality, as it was
absolutely necessary that he and his people should get away at once, to
avoid capture at the hands of the Turkish authorities. Sedjur then
related to us what had occurred. His father had, the night before, had a
brush with a strong party of Shammar, some of whom had been left either
dead or wounded on the field, and the fight only ended when it did
because of the sudden appearance of a Turkish patrol.

"We must get away immediately," concluded Sedjur, "but my father and I
hope that some day, when things are quieter, we shall be able to show
you and your friend true desert hospitality. You will easily find your
way back to Hillah, and so to Baghdad, by keeping straight for the high
mound yonder, from which you will see the river and the roof-tops of
Hillah at no great distance."

"But," replied I, not at all wishing to lose Faris just as we had found
him, "my friend the Hakim does not desire to return until he has seen
more of the desert. Besides, we might ourselves be captured by the
Turkish soldiers, and be forced to betray your whereabouts."

"That would be difficult," laughed Sedjur, "for, look, our women and
children are already out of sight, and safe; and, ere the sun has crept
up another spear-head in the heavens, our horses will have carried us
out of harm's way."

I looked round. The camp had vanished, the tent in which we had slept
included. Our horses, with their saddles on, stood hobbled close by. The
sheik, standing by his horse, was shading his eyes with one hand, and
scanning the horizon.

Suddenly there arose a cry of "Tourki," and with one accord the sheik
and his men swung into the saddle, and commenced to move off. Sedjur
quickly mounted his mare, and calling to us that he regretted having to
leave us thus discourteously, soon caught up the rest of the party, now
settling down to a fast canter.

"Well," exclaimed Edwards, turning to me, "they are in a desperate hurry
to clear out. I cannot even see the soldiers, can you?"

I looked for some time, and at last, when my eyes had become accustomed
to the glare, I thought I could detect some small black objects, like
flies, in the far, far distance.

"I think I have spotted them," I answered. "There, miles away to the
north-east. Look along my finger."

"Oh, I see them," said Edwards.

"Well," said I, "I suppose we had better wait here till they come up,
tell them that it is useless for them to try and catch the wily Arabs,
and ride back with them to Hillah, or wherever they come from."

"Not a bit of it," said Edwards excitedly. "We must not meet them. I
know the gentlemen; and if they find us here and their quarry gone, they
are quite capable of shooting us off-hand as conspirators, and quietly
putting us into a hole in the sand. Come on; there's plenty of time."

"Where to?" I asked, as we ran to our horses and mounted.

"After our Arab friends," was the reply. "They are not going any pace as
yet."

So we dug our spurs into the flanks of our little beasts, and made them
gallop over the baked desert. But gallop as we would, we did not appear
to be gaining on our friends, and it seemed to us, on glancing back,
that the Turkish troopers were overhauling us. Then, as we looked ahead,
we saw the Arab horsemen suddenly disappear.

"Where on earth have they gone?" asked Edwards, turning to me.

"Heaven only knows," I replied, "unless they have got into a
watercourse. We shall probably see them come out again in a minute."

We kept our eyes fixed ahead of us as we rode on, but no sign did we see
of the reappearance of the party, and before long we discovered the
cause. The track brought us to a deep dry watercourse, running almost at
right angles to the route that we were following, and there, in the
loose sand which formed the bed, we could see the footprints of the
horses. We drew rein, and looked at each other, for the horsemen seemed
to have gone both ways--up the watercourse and down it.

"Which way?" I asked Edwards.

"Haven't a ghost of an idea," said he.

"Well, it cannot matter very much," said I; "whichever way we go, we
shall find some of them. We must trust to luck to take our Turkish
pursuers the other way."

So we rode westward in the trough of the nullah, which in places was
sunk almost twenty feet below the surrounding country, and which turned
and twisted at every fifty yards. For half an hour or more we pressed
on, ever looking behind, to see if we were being pursued, until at last
we reached a point where a smaller nullah joined the main one, and here
again the horsemen had divided, as many going one way as the other.

"This is worse than a paper-chase," said Edwards, drily. "Suppose we
give it up, wait for the Turks, and hail them as our friends and
deliverers."

As we stood at the junction of the watercourses, debating which one to
follow, we suddenly became aware of the presence of a horseman, standing
motionless at the bend of the smaller nullah. He beckoned to us, and, on
riding up, we found, to our joy, that it was Sedjur himself.

"You were fortunate, Hakim," said he smiling, "in taking the right way.
We could not wait for you, for fear of the Turkis. We are all safe
enough now, for they never follow the windings of the watercourse,
knowing that at any turn they might be ambuscaded. Come along to our
tents, and we will make you truly welcome."

The mention of tents was a great relief to both of us, for I at any rate
had had visions of travelling day and night for ever so long, and
enduring endless privations. Still, the encampment was not as near as I
at first imagined, for, although Sedjur described it, with a wave of his
hand, as "yonder," it proved to be distant several hours' ride. For a
mile or more we followed the bed of the nullah, until it grew too narrow
to ride in, when our guide suddenly turned his horse's head up the steep
bank. Thence we crossed a wide strip of desolate desert leading
gradually up to a sandy ridge, from the summit of which Sedjur pointed
out, several miles away, a green patch of vegetation, around which
there appeared to be a goodly collection of tents.

"What are all these tents?" I inquired of Sedjur, as we drew near the
encampment.

"This is our large camp," he replied, "with all our people and flocks.
Where you spent last night was only a _ghazu_ camp, from which my father
was making a foray."

We were duly impressed by what we saw before us, and we began to
understand that the sheik was a man of some importance. A considerable
number of horses, camels, and sheep were grazing on the outskirts of the
encampment, and quite two hundred tents lay scattered among the tamarisk
and other bushes. On the extreme flank was pitched the somewhat
imposing-looking tent of the sheik--large enough, as we afterwards
found, to accommodate not only himself and his family, but also two of
his mares. In front of the tent, fixed upright in the ground, was his
long, gleaming spear, adorned with tufts of black ostrich plumes. As we
approached, men came to take our horses, and we were ushered into the
audience-room of Faris's tent, where we were received with much
ceremony, being reintroduced by Sedjur, as if the sheik had never met us
before. This procedure puzzled me at first, but later on I discovered
that it was a matter of Bedouin etiquette, as at our previous meeting
the sheik had had nothing to offer us. Now we were made welcome to all
he possessed, and a special tent was handed over to us.

The conversation was most formal; spiced coffee was handed round, and
long pipes were brought in. Then, after a short while, Sedjur relieved
our minds by suggesting that we might like to go to our tent and rest,
after our long ride. We jumped at the idea, and being warned that we
were expected to have supper with the sheik a little before sundown, we
sought the seclusion of the goat's-hair dwelling that had been reserved
for us.

"Thank goodness," said Edwards, sitting on his saddle-bags, which had
been brought into the tent, "that they have given us a place to
ourselves. Now let us hold a mass meeting of two, and discuss the whole
situation."

"What situation?" I asked.

"Why, yours and mine," said he.

"Right you are," said I. "So far I think we have done pretty well. We
have discovered old Faris, and have become his honoured guests. We have
only got to persuade him to tell us about the Golden Girdle, and then we
shall be as right as rain."

"All very nice," said Edwards. "But suppose it does not come off, what
is going to happen? We are miles and miles from anywhere."

"Oh, we will get along. Don't you fret," I replied. "Besides, we are
seeing desert life, living with real Bedouins, and all that sort of
thing. Do be a bit romantic. But, to be serious, I will take on our host
to-night, if we can make him at all communicative; and if we fail to get
anything out of him, we will take an affectionate farewell in the
morning, and ride back to Hillah. I daresay we are not more than fifty
miles away."

"How shall you start the subject?" asked my companion.

"That is the difficulty," said I. "I expect the best way will be to
mention Shahzadi and her shoe, and see how the old man takes it."

So we continued to talk and puff at our pipes, until at last Sedjur came
and told us that supper was ready. We found that one or two of the
headmen of the tribe had been invited to meet us, and after going
through the usual ceremonial introductions, we settled down to our meal,
Edwards being placed on the right hand of the sheik, I on the left, and
Sedjur on the other side of Edwards. It was our first Bedouin feast, and
the novelty of everything interested us considerably. A huge copper
bowl was brought in and placed in front of us, its steaming contents
consisting of a kind of porridge in which lumps of meat and vegetables,
some hard-boiled eggs, and dates were concealed. Into this each member
of the party plunged his hand, and after the manner of dipping in a
bran-pie, brought out a prize in the shape of something to eat. Hunger
and the desire to appear _au fait_ in the customs of the desert enabled
Edwards and myself to do fair justice to the meal, even without spoons,
knives, or forks. Little conversation was indulged in while the eating
was in progress, but at length the dish, replenished again and again,
had satisfied everyone, and at a signal from Faris we rose, washed our
hands, and went and sat outside, to smoke our pipes and chat in the cool
evening air.

While at supper I had made a study of our host, and although apparently
a reserved and silent man, his quiet dignity and courteous manner made a
great impression on me. In appearance he was tall--far above the average
Arab height, spare in form, but with broad, square shoulders, which made
his flowing robes hang loosely from his body. He was a fair man, and his
brown beard as yet showed few white hairs, though his handsome face was
weather-beaten, and bore more than one tell-tale scar. His eyes were
remarkable, and their actual colour impossible to describe; at times
they were the eyes of an eagle--almost golden red, wide open and
piercing; then, while he was speaking, they would suddenly change to the
soft liquid eyes of a deer, full of tenderness and compassion. As I
learned later, the sheik's whole character was discoverable from a study
of his eyes.

Puffing at my pipe, I began to think that the time had come when I ought
to give our host some idea of our future movements, for I knew that he
himself would consider that he would be outraging all the laws of
hospitality if he even displayed any curiosity as to our wanderings in
the desert. How I was to turn the conversation round to the Golden
Girdle I could not see, but I made a beginning by discussing the day's
ride, and the relative merits of our horses and the sheik's horses,
their paces and staying powers. To my delight I found that the great man
gradually unbent, and in a few minutes became voluble. Thinking that I
was deeply interested in the subject, he insisted on taking me into his
tent to see his two favourite mares, one of whom he fondled, and
addressed in the most loving terms.

"She is your favourite, sheik," I said.

"Yes," he replied, "even so. She has carried me in many a bloody fight
with the accursed Shammar, and has borne many good colts. Moreover, her
grand-dam was my father's much-prized mare, a true Kuhailan, so he
always affirmed. He captured her from the Shammar--a fact which I cast
in their teeth when I prevail over them by reason of the handiness and
swiftness of the mare. She is indeed a bird without wings."

I now had my opening, for of course I remembered what was written in the
document wherein mention had been made of the Golden Girdle.

"I have heard of the Kuhailan mare," I remarked quietly.

"Of what mare?" inquired Faris, looking at me intently.

"Shahzadi," I replied, "the daughter of a Kuhailan Haifi, out of the dam
Labadah. Was it not so?"

"That indeed was what my father always told me, and the Shammar
themselves told him how the mare was bred. How do you, an Ingleezee,
know of such matters as these? It may be that you have learned them from
the Shammar."

"Not so, Sheik of Sheiks," I replied. "What I know of the mare I have
read in my own country."

"Wonder of wonders!" exclaimed Faris. "They speak truly when they say
that you Englishmen know everything. Tell me more of what you know."

"I will tell you _all_ I know," I said, "and if you will allow me to go
to my tent, I will fetch you a translation of what I believe to be a
true document relating to the famous mare, which your father captured
from the Shammar."

"You astonish me beyond measure," said the sheik; "be pleased to go and
bring the paper."

At that moment the thud of horses' hoofs broke the stillness of the
night air, and, thinking that it meant a night attack, I turned to the
sheik, who stepped out in front of his tent, and shouted a few words in
a deep voice. An answer came back out of the darkness, and then Faris
explained to me that the horsemen were those of his party whose duty it
had been to lay a false scent for the Turkish police to follow, and who
had ridden into camp by a circuitous route.

"For years," said he, "we have done the same thing. On reaching the
nullah, some of us go one way and some another. The Turkis fear to
follow either party, knowing that if once they enter the nullah, they
are liable not only to be ambuscaded by one party but to be taken in
rear by the other party. But they are simple folk these town-bred
Turkis, and in driving us as far as the nullah, they consider that they
have done their duty. So they return to their coffee-houses to drink
their coffee and tell their companions how they encountered the
Bedouins, and defeated them. Yet, to-morrow, if we wished, we could ride
in and pillage half the villages on the outskirts of Hillah. However,
the ways of these Turki dogs are of no interest to either you or me, for
I know, from my many friends in Baghdad, what you Englishmen think of
them. Let us talk again of our horses, and let me hear what you know of
Kushki's ancestors."

I went off to my tent, and returned with my note-book, when the sheik
took me into his private apartment, and motioned me to a seat on a pile
of soft cushions. I showed him the sketch of Shahzadi's shoe, and he at
once commented on the eight nail holes. Then I turned to my copy of the
document, which, re-translating into Arabic, I read out to my host. He
was deeply moved, and drank in every word that I uttered, nodding his
head as I concluded each sentence, and vouchsafing that what I said was
true. When I came to the last line I hesitated for a second--from
excitement, I suppose--but, recovering, I translated leisurely, "The man
bore away the serpent belt of pure gold coveted by the desert tribes."

"Quite true," said the sheik. "Everything that you have read is true.
But now tell me, was it indeed an accident that brought you and your
friend the Hakim to our tents?"

The question came so suddenly, that I confess it quite staggered me. But
I felt that the man with whom I was dealing was upright and honest, and
I decided that I would meet him on his own ground, and risk the
consequences. I stood up and met his gaze.

"Faris-ibn-Feyzul, Sheik of the Jelas Aeniza," I said, "I am an
Englishman, and, I trust, a man of honour. Believe me, that in accepting
your hospitality, I had no intention of deceiving you. I waited only for
an opportunity to speak to you, and that opportunity has now come. It
was no accident that brought us to your tents."

I then explained fully the nature of my mission, and how I hoped to be
able to obtain from him some information about the Golden Girdle. He
listened attentively, and without showing any sign of displeasure. At
last he took my hand in his, and spoke solemnly and quietly.

"Friend and honoured guest," he said, "you have spoken to me
straightforwardly, and straightforwardly shall I always deal with you.
Stay with us as long as you will, and you shall be welcome, but take my
advice, and abandon all idea of possessing that accursed belt of gold.
Did you but know the havoc that it wrought among the tribes ere it
disappeared, you would let it lie for ever in its resting-place. If you
would hear more of it, then to-morrow will I tell you what I know, and
willingly. To-night we have already talked late."

       *       *       *       *       *

"What a time you have been," grunted Edwards, as I entered the tent
after saying good-night to the sheik. "You have lost all your beauty
sleep. I have been in bed for hours."

"Business, my boy," I replied. "I have been having a most interesting
talk with Faris."

Edwards sat up wide awake, while I related, as shortly as possible, what
our host had told me.

"Do you think I did right," I asked, when I had finished, "in making a
clean breast of everything?"

"You could not well have done anything else," he replied. "Both the
father and the son are thorough gentlemen. Besides, one cannot humbug
these Bedouins; they would see through you at once. I wonder if they
really know where your golden treasure is buried. I did not say a word
about it to Sedjur, as I was afraid of making a mess of things. By the
way, he and his father are going off in the morning to an oasis
somewhere or other miles away in the desert, where they have got some
brood mares and camels, and he thought we might like the ride with them.
So I accepted for both of us. Are you on for it?"

"Of course I am," said I. "I don't let old Faris out of my sight until I
have heard what he has to tell about that blessed belt."




CHAPTER V.

RAIDERS.


Barely a streak of dawn had shown itself in the eastern sky, when Sedjur
clamoured at our tent door, shouting to us that it was time that we were
up and in the saddle. Silence reigned in the encampment, as we stepped
out into the grey morning, to find the sheik and his son already
mounted, and awaiting us. An Arab stood close at hand holding the two
horses which we were to ride, and the sheik, giving us a friendly
greeting, told me that the beasts which he had selected for us were both
sons of his favourite Kushki, the fleetest that he possessed, and far
better than our own. He and Sedjur we noticed were armed with spear and
sword, and before starting they made certain that we carried our
revolvers.

"One can never tell," said Sedjur, "what the day may bring forth, and to
go unarmed in the desert is to court death."

So, with the cold invigorating air almost cutting our faces, we set out
on our ride into the unknown, at first picking our way slowly among the
low bushes, then, on reaching the great sandy wastes, quickening our
pace to a gentle canter. How our companions knew the way puzzled us
considerably, for no landmark could we distinguish in any direction.
Everywhere was sand--hard, red, baked sand; a veritable ocean of sand,
and, like the ocean, wind-swept into mighty billows. The sun gradually
rose, and we soon discovered that no landmark was necessary, as our
route evidently lay due west, and the sun at our backs gave us our
course.

For several hours the ride was monotonous in the extreme, then, at about
noon, the sandy plains began to show signs of a change of country.
Stones cropped up here and there, and in the far distance we could
distinguish the filmy outlines of hills and mountains. The hills
gradually drew nearer, and in a short time we found ourselves in a new
land. Below us was a hollow filled with verdure, date trees, acacias,
tamarisks, and luxuriant grassland, through which flowed trickling
streams. This was the principal grazing ground of Faris's camels and
mares, which we saw scattered in all directions, their herdsmen--all
armed with spears and matchlocks--keeping a good look-out on the
surrounding high ground.

"Hide yourselves behind the rocks," said the sheik, quietly, "and we
will soon see if the men are on the alert."

Then stepping forward himself on to the sky-line, he stood quite
motionless, while we peered from behind our shelters into the valley
below. Far down in a date grove we heard the neigh of a horse, followed
by the barking of a dog; then, as we looked, we could see each sentry
turn instinctively towards the figure of the sheik. They had discovered
the cause of the alarm, and Faris, satisfied, shouted a watchword which
was evidently understood. The chief of the herdsmen rode up to greet us,
and we descended with him to the shady spot where his tent was pitched,
and where he soon regaled us with coffee and dates.

"Well, Hussein, what is the news?" asked the sheik.

"Nothing of great consequence, Lord Protector," answered the herdsmen,
"but I am glad you have come. For three days now single Shammar horsemen
have been observing us from different points, and we fear that they
intend a raid on the beasts so soon as the moon gives sufficient light.
We fully expected it last night, but no one came."

"Ah, Hussein," said the sheik, "it is the old story which you always
have to tell. Rest assured that no Shammar dares to touch the property
of Faris-ibn-Feyzul. Bring some more coffee, and then we will smoke our
pipes until it is time for us to start again for our tents."

The sheik was in the best of spirits, and even talkative. Sedjur and he
were evidently devoted to each other, and we could see that the father
was as proud of his son as was the son of his father. They had ridden
side by side in many a fight, though even now Sedjur was but
twenty-four; and each had many tales to tell of the prowess of the
other.

"How many of the accursed robbers did you say you encountered at Babil
the day before yesterday, father?" asked Sedjur.

"Ten of the Shammar," was the reply, "and one other, of what tribe or
nationality I know not. He was not of the desert, though wearing the
dress. Perchance he came from Bokhara, or Yarkhand, or, God knows, from
India. But whatever land gave him birth must be glad to be rid of him,
for he showed not the courage of an Arab townsman. When we bore down on
the band he incontinently rode off, and did not rein up and turn to see
what was going on until at a safe distance. The dog valued his skin
greatly."

"And you put them all to flight?"

"Surely did we," answered the sheik, vehemently, "and sent that black
villain, Abbas, to Gehennum."

"What, Abbas-ibn-Rashid?"

"Even so, he who nearly killed you outside Baghdad, when our good
friend, the Hakim, here, saved your life. It was an old score, my lad,
and I wiped it out, praise be to Allah! We would have sent some more of
his followers after the scoundrel, had not the soldiers come down on
us, and I doubt not but that Abbas himself had previously warned them to
be prepared."

"I am almost sorry, father, that you slew Abbas," said Sedjur, softly.

"Why?" asked the sheik, frowning at his son. "Have you turned woman? Do
you wish to show mercy to your bitterest foe?"

"Nay, father, but I had lived for the day when I should meet the man
face to face, sword to sword, and spear-point to spear-point. I grieved
that you had robbed me of my chance of revenge."

"Well, well, Sedjur," laughed the sheik, "save his ghost, the desert
will hear no more of Abbas."

"You secured no booty, then?" inquired Sedjur.

"His mare galloped off when her master fell," replied Faris, "and I
brought away only his broken spear, and this."

The sheik raised his cloak, and revealed to our astonished eyes _my
chamois-leather money belt_. Edwards and I instantly recognised it, and
involuntary uttered an exclamation of surprise, when Faris, not
understanding the reason for our excitement, but thinking that we were
admiring his prize, took it off and handed it to us to examine.

"It is filled with money," said he, "and of much value. How Abbas gained
possession of it I neither know nor care. It became the prize of war,
and is now mine."

"Sheik of Sheiks," I exclaimed, holding the belt in my hand, and looking
into his flashing eyes, "I can tell you what money that belt contained a
little while since; for it was stolen from my waist as I slept outside
the khan at Mahmoudieh not half a moon ago."

"Wonder of wonders!" ejaculated Faris and Sedjur simultaneously, the
former appearing to be somewhat sceptical, though fearing to show any
distrust of his guests.

"Let us examine the pockets one by one," I said, wishing to prove my
_bona fides_. "In each of the five small pockets on either side of the
buckle there should be five English gold pieces, and in the larger
pocket at the back some odd kerans and rupees. Come, let us count them
out."

I turned out the pockets one by one, and emptied their contents on to
the sleeve of Sedjur's cloak. The thief had had no opportunity for
spending the money, which was found to be exactly as I had stated.
Faris's face wore an expression of utter bewilderment.

"We knew," said he at last to Sedjur, "what manner of man was our guest
the Hakim, but we knew not that his friend was a magician, who, when he
lost his property, could recover it at his pleasure. Yet now that I
bring it to mind, he did but last night read to me the true description
of Shahzadi, the grand-dam of my beloved Kushki, and, moreover, he
showed me, on a paper, the impression of her eight-nailed shoe, the old
Talisman of the Muntafik of which we have heard. All this is magic."

I felt that I had suddenly acquired a reputation by no means desirable,
and I hastened to reassure my host, who, having replaced the money in
the belt handed it to me, saying that, now that he knew that it was
stolen property, he wished to restore it to its rightful owner.

"Nay, nay, sheik," said I, "you obtained it in a fair fight. I lost it
through my own carelessness, and I can no longer claim it by right. I
never thought to see it again."

"Then," answered Faris, "I see but one way out of the difficulty. If you
refuse to take back your own, I offer the belt and all it contains to
your friend the Hakim, as a present, in return for all the kindness
which he showed to my son Sedjur. We of the desert have an unwritten
law, by which no guest of the Aeniza can decline to accept a present
from a sheik. Were this not so, then would I straightway ride to the
Euphrates, and hurl the thing into its depths; for, knowing what I know,
I can never now lay finger on it again. Come, Hakim, my honoured guest,
buckle on the belt, and end the trouble; otherwise, who knows? it may
prove to me as evil a possession as did that golden curse to many a
Bedouin in the days gone by."

So Edwards, at my suggestion, took the belt and fastened it round his
waist, offering profuse thanks to his host, who was apparently greatly
relieved.

"Tell us, sheik," I said, seeing that he had recovered his equanimity,
"something of the golden curse to which you alluded just now, and about
which I spoke to you last night. We are all friends here; Sedjur has
doubtless heard it all before, and the Hakim and I are one."

Faris looked stealthily round, to make sure that there were no
eaves-droppers, and then suddenly turning his eyes on me exclaimed:--

"Think no more of it; forget it; for it will bring you nothing but ruin.
I called you 'magician.' Whether I did so rightly or wrongly I cannot
say, but this I do know, that your magic, be it ever so strong, can
avail nothing against that circlet of gold. As you are aware, it
disappeared long years back--even before dear Kushki saw the light of
day. No man could ever say what became of it, though there be
necromancers (not reckoned by us as men) who have the reputation of
knowing all things, and who have been heard to affirm that they could,
were they so minded, unearth that hidden curse. Yet even they fear to be
so rash. As soon would they let loose in the world Shaitan and all the
Jins. Do you suppose your Western magic to be more powerful than that of
the East? Do you imagine that you are capable of combating all the evil
that fell on every man who ever touched the dreaded thing? No, I cannot
believe that you have such conceit."

"I am no magician, sheik," I said, interrupting him, "and I make no
pretence to any power not possessed by yourself or any other man. We
Englishmen consider all those who practise magic to be impostors. In all
honesty, I told you last night that I had come to the desert in search
of the Golden Girdle of the Great Queen; and I told you how my
acquaintance with the story of the Muntafik talisman had led me to seek
information from you."

"I know," said Faris, sorrowfully, "I remember all you said, and if I
ever doubted you, the doubt has left me. I believe all that you told me.
I swear it. Gladly would I help you to carry out the task imposed upon
you; yet, I, Faris-ibn-Feyzul, Sheik of the Jelas Aeniza, who have faced
death on countless occasions, and who would face it again at a moment's
notice, out of pure love of fighting, I confess to you that I fear to
have a hand in resuscitating the golden circlet. Mere death I count as
nothing. All must die--whether it be sooner or whether it be later; and
so long as I die, as every true Bedouin should, fighting the foes of his
forefathers, I care nothing for myself. But how should I feel if, when
dying, I knew that I had been instrumental in reviving, and in leaving
behind me as a legacy to posterity, a curse on the inhabitants of the
world?"

I began to think that the Golden Girdle had a most fearsome reputation,
but I remembered that my uncle had specially warned me not to be
influenced by the superstitious dread of the natives. I had always
laughed at superstition, and though I had sufficient good sense not to
laugh at the sheik, I inwardly considered his fears as ridiculous and
childish.

"So be it, sheik," I said. "Far be it from me to attempt to influence
you to do anything against the guidance of your conscience. Let us
forget that we ever spoke of the Golden Girdle. Let us forget that it
ever existed. There are troubles enough in the world without adding to
them. We will converse on other matters."

"What thought you of the horse you have been riding?" inquired Faris
proudly.

"Perfection," I replied. "Never have I sat on the back of his equal."

"I thought so," said Faris, beaming with delight "He is indeed a worthy
son of my Kushki."

"And to think that we foreigners," said I, "possess her grand-dam's
shoe!"

I had hardly finished speaking, when the sheik sprang to his feet,
seized sword and spear, and rushed to his horse, shouting as he did so
that the Shammar were upon us. Sedjur was in the saddle almost as soon
as his father; and Edwards and I, not fully realising what was going on,
followed suit in all haste. Then we saw what our host's keen eyes had
seen a couple of seconds earlier. Over the ridge above us a long line of
horsemen were sweeping down into the valley; the watchmen posted among
the rocks fired their matchlocks as a signal of alarm, and ran for their
horses, which were mostly tethered close to the spot where he had been
resting. There was little time to think, but it was easy to understand
the enemy's intentions. The mares and camels were all grazing down the
valley, a quarter of a mile or so below us, while the herdsmen, in order
that they might be able to obtain a wide view of the surrounding
country, had been stationed on the higher ground above us and to our
right and left. The raiders, evidently well aware of this somewhat
faulty arrangement, had somehow crept up unnoticed to the vicinity of
the ridge, and had then galloped in between the herdsmen and the herd,
the foremost horsemen descending swiftly into the valley and rapidly
working round and overlapping the grazing animals. This was an almost
instantaneous evolution; in fact, when Faris first gave the alarm, the
line had already shaped into a crescent, and before we had mounted, it
had become a semicircle, separating the mares from the camels, and
driving the former before it and away from us. The camels, being too
refractory and slow to carry off, were left behind.

"Quick, Sedjur lad," shouted the sheik without any sign of excitement,
"rally the herdsmen, and get ready for pursuit, while I watch the
direction they take."

Then the lad, as his father called him, opened his lungs and sent up a
war-howl, which rang through the whole valley, and came echoing back
from every rock and every hollow. If it did not strike terror into the
hearts of the raiders, at any rate it had a most inspiriting effect on
the wretched herdsman, who showed the greatest keenness to get to their
horses and form up for pursuit. How long it was before all the men had
come in I do not remember; it could not have been many minutes, though
it seemed like an hour. At last all were ready, and away we went at a
hand-gallop, up the stony side of the valley, to the spot where the
sheik awaited us. Sedjur--no longer the calm, imperturbable youth, but a
fierce warrior, with long, gleaming spear raised aloft--led the party,
Edwards and I abreast of him, on either side.

"This is no work for you," said Sedjur, addressing me as we rode along.
"You and the Hakim had best drop behind and await our return."

"Have you such a poor opinion of us town-dwellers, then?" I replied. "We
are your guests, and it is our duty to assist you. Besides, we want to
see the fun."

"Bravely said," exclaimed the sheik, who had overheard my reply as we
approached him. "Come on and help us to deal death to the Shammar
thieves. They have crossed the plain, and are away on the other side of
the ridge yonder."

How our little well-bred horses flew over that sandy strip! Their hoofs
seemed barely to touch the ground. In front galloped the sheik; close
behind him, we three; then the Bedouin herdsmen, some twenty in number,
like a troop of cavalry in single rank.

We topped the ridge, and without drawing rein drank in the scene before
us. There lay another stretch of rolling desert, which in the far
distance appeared to slope gradually up to a network of bold hills.
Midway between us and the hills, we could see clearly enough the mares
being driven off, and raising a vast moving column of dust, resembling a
sand-storm. That our enemies were expert cattle-lifters was evident,
for they kept the beasts all going at a swinging trot, in one compact
body.

Faris raised a wild shout as his quarry came in view, and pressed
forward into the plain.

"Take half to the left, Sedjur; quick lad, and work round, so as to head
them off from the hills. I will take the rest to the right. If the
devils reach the hills, we shall not recover a single mare."

A strong breeze was blowing from one side, and carried the dust raised
by the fugitives well away to leeward, enabling us to see and almost
count the number of men with whom we would have to reckon. That they
out-numbered our party was certain; though, as far as we could judge,
not by very many. For the moment, however, actual numbers were of small
account; speed was the sole thought; for the necessity of cutting in
between the enemy and the hills was now very apparent. Though they were
almost a mile away from us, and had little more than another mile to
traverse before reaching the shelter of the hills, we certainly had the
great advantage of being unhampered by loose beasts; while our opponents
had to keep the mares together, so as to prevent them from breaking
away. As our party divided, Edwards and I happened to be rather more to
the left than to the right, so we naturally drifted off with Sedjur,
who, waving his spear above his head, led his handful of men away to the
flank. Rapidly we gained on the bulky column of dust; we were soon
abreast of it, and it blew across our path and enveloped us, so that we
were almost choked. As we emerged from the dense cloud, we saw that the
sheik's party had out-distanced us by a little, and had already reached
a point between the enemy and the hills, so Sedjur wheeled half right,
and went straight for the stolen mares; while his father, observing the
movement, instantly swung round and brought his men down pell-mell on
the foremost of the enemy. Panic seized the raiders, and before we could
reach them, they abandoned their booty, and fled in a disorganised mass
away to the flank farthest from us. The mares were saved, though there
was still the risk of their terror causing them to scatter over the
desert. Sedjur and his party, however, understood their business, and
rounding them up, soon pacified them. Meanwhile, the sheik had seen his
opportunity, and at the very moment that the enemy took flight, he
suddenly changed his direction, and went off in hot pursuit of the
fugitives.

"Come on, Henderson," said Edwards, "let's be in at the death."

"Right you are," I shouted. And away we went. It was a stern chase and a
long one; but when we had almost caught up our friends, we found that
they had overhauled the tailmost of the band, and that a brisk fight was
imminent. Then Edwards, who was a little ahead of me, suddenly reined up
his horse, so that it nearly fell over backwards, and I instinctively
did the same.

"What is the matter?" I asked.

"This is not _our_ game," replied Edwards, somewhat sternly. "The poor
devils could not stand our revolvers. It would be sheer butchery to use
them. _I_ don't want to shoot any of them, and I am sure _you_ don't.
Besides, look, the sheik is drawing off his men, and I expect he
considers that honour is satisfied."

At first I felt that I had been rebuked; for, on joining in the pursuit,
I certainly had had every intention of using my revolver freely. But I
soon saw that my companion's argument was perfectly sound, and I was
glad that the combat had suddenly come to a close without our being
called upon to take part in it. The sheik and his party presently
returned, the enemy having disappeared into the hills, and we now
learned the reason of the rapid withdrawal.

"They were leading us into an ambuscade," said Faris, as he rejoined us.
"If it had not been for you, I, in my excitement, should have gone on,
and doubtless we should all have been killed. I saw you pull up, and I
instantly understood that you realised the stratagem I thank you both
for giving me the signal."

Now, although I believe that Edwards and I were as honest as most men,
we did not think it at all necessary to enlighten the sheik as to our
real motive in suddenly coming to a halt. As a matter of fact, we were
so astonished at what he said that we did not reply, thus leaving him
with a high opinion of our astuteness, which, as we never undeceived
him, he probably retained to the end of his days. There was, however,
little time to think about what had occurred, for the main object now
was to return to the mares, and conduct them back to a place of
security. Naturally, everyone was very jubilant at having recovered the
stolen beasts, and Sedjur and his party had already set them in motion
towards home. Then the great cloud of dust once again rose upwards,
almost obscuring the fast sinking sun, and darkness had set in before
the mares were once again at the grazing ground from which they had been
carried off.




CHAPTER VI.

THE SHEIK'S STORY.


That night we stayed at the grazing-ground, half expecting another
attack, the sheik thinking it by no means unlikely that there was a
large number of the Shammar tribe on the hills. But nothing occurred to
disturb our rest, though we took it in turns to watch all night, Edwards
keeping Sedjur company, whilst I sat with Faris. For half an hour or so
after we came on duty the sheik remained silent, then he began to speak
in a low tone.

"Magician," he said.

"Do not call me by that name," I said laughing. "I am nothing of the
kind."

"Well," he replied, "if the name does not please you, I will not call
you by it. Still, the man who can tell one all about the breed of a mare
directly he sees her, who can recover his own stolen property whensoever
he chooses, and who has just now returned to me all my stolen mares--a
man who can do such things, I say, must possess powers of no ordinary
kind. Such a man we desert folk call by the name magician."

"So be it, sheik," said I, not caring to argue further about the matter,
"call me what you will. But what was it you were going to say when I
interrupted you."

"It was a small thing," said he. "I had been thinking of Shahzadi's
shoe, the Muntafik talisman. Where did you say it was kept?"

"In the biggest building in the biggest town in all England," I replied.

"Why should your people wish to keep in such a place so unimportant a
thing as the shoe of one of our mares? I cannot understand you
Europeans. Men come and pay much money for bricks and pieces of stone
picked out of the ground at Babil, and carry them away on the backs of
asses. The Bedouins laugh at them. Do these also go to the big house
where the horse-shoe is?"

"Yes, the house is full of such things, and were it possible to obtain
the Golden Belt of the Great Queen, that likewise would be placed
there."

"Better not," said Faris, "for the big house would totter and fall, and
the whole town would be destroyed. Such things have happened in years
gone by in this land--and, they say, because of that accursed belt. I do
not know if what they say is true, but you have yourself seen what is
left of such a great town as Babil, and I know of many another which has
been levelled, and swallowed up by the sand. I say again, forget that
belt of gold. Tell those who live in the big house that it is lost for
ever. But Shahzadi's shoe is a different thing. Tell me, do the people
who live in the big house keep all they possess for ever?"

"You want to know," I said, "whether you could possibly obtain the
horse-shoe. I will copy the drawing, and write out for you, in Arabic, a
copy of the document which I read to you."

"It would be of small value," said the sheik, with a sigh; "but, oh, if
I could obtain the real shoe of the great Shahzadi, then would I be for
ever happy."

"Sheik," I replied, "it can never be--at least it would be very
difficult. Perhaps if I were to find the Golden Girdle, and were able to
lay it before the keepers of the big house, perhaps, I say, they might
regard me with favour and ask what I would in return. If at that moment
I could reply, 'One, Faris-ibn-Feyzul, a great Sheik of the Aeniza, and
my devoted friend, even he whose assistance enabled me to be successful
in my quest of the Golden Girdle, is the owner of the mare Kushki, whose
grand-dam was the famous Shahzadi. He desires above all things to
possess the shoe of his noble Kushki's grand-dam, and this shoe is in
your keeping.' Then, perhaps, the great men would consult together, and
might say to me, 'You have done well in recovering the Great Queen's
belt, and Faris ibn-Feyzul must be a truly worthy man; it is well that
he should receive a fitting reward for his valuable services; therefore
we ordain that the shoe of the mare Shahzadi shall be handed to you for
conveyance to the sheik.'"

"That would indeed be a day of days for me, and for all the Aeniza,"
said the sheik. "But, alas, it can never be more than a dream. For, if I
understand you rightly, the price of the shoe is that belt of gold."

"Yes," I answered, "that is what I meant."

"You cannot forget the wretched thing," said he, almost angrily. "Let
the world go on its way. Do not seek to destroy all that is good in it.
There are things which Allah has decreed shall be left alone; and if its
history has been handed down to us truly, this golden circlet is one of
them."

"Sheik," I said, "you are a great man, and chief of an important branch
of a great tribe. Your men regard you with reverence and respect, and
your position has doubtless given you a vast knowledge of men and of the
affairs of the world. Yet you believe in superhuman and supernatural
occurrences; or you think that you believe in them. You think that I am
a magician, because I have been connected with certain events which had
results different from what you expected. You believe in the mysterious
powers of this Golden Girdle, because you have always heard wild stories
about it."

As I concluded, I was astounded at my audacity in thus rating a Bedouin
sheik in his own country, but my object was to draw him out, and to
induce him to divulge what he knew of the Golden Girdle. I was aware
that I could not persuade him that I was not a magician, and I now began
to hope that he was superstitious enough to think that I could see
through him and everything else. I firmly believe that he had the idea
that there was something mysterious about me; otherwise I cannot account
for the fact that this man, the terror of all the neighbouring tribes,
should now, and on many other occasions, have allowed me to speak to
him, and even dictate to him in a manner such as I often did.

Faris remained silent for a long while. I was afraid that I had insulted
him. I did not dare to break the silence, and in the black hours before
dawn this silence became oppressive. At last I summoned up courage, and
put the question--

"I trust, sheik," I said, "that I did not offend you by my open speech."

"No, my son," he replied. And I knew that by thus addressing me, he bore
me no malice.

"You townsmen," he went on, "and especially you Europeans, do not
understand the minds of the dwellers in the desert. Sedjur, after his
return from the Hakim's house in Baghdad, told me many things about you
and your curious ways. In the towns you may not have strange things
influencing your destinies, as we in the desert have always with us.
Perchance, you are protected from them by the soldiers and the watchmen.
In this manner your eyes are blinded, and you do not see such things as
we see."

"Perhaps you are right, sheik," I replied, wishing to appease him. "But
tell me some of the strange things that this golden belt has done?"

"Of myself," he replied, "I know nothing about it. All that I know and
believe was told to me by my father, who saw and was an actor in many of
the events. Other tales, as numerous almost as the stars in the
heavens, I have heard from time to time. Some of them may be true;
others are undoubtedly false. Of the long, long ago, when the belt was
worn by the living queen, I am ignorant. My knowledge is only of modern
times, when my father was a young man. Before I had arrived at years of
discretion the belt had been laid to rest again. I can just recollect my
father's return to camp with his prize of war, the beautiful young mare
Shahzadi, to whose daughter in later years was born my mare Kushki--and
she was born full twenty summers ago."

"You never saw the belt, then," I asked.

"Never," said the sheik, "but my father and other men with whom I was
acquainted had often handled it, and they were fond of describing its
magnificent workmanship--so much so that I have often thought that I
must have seen it myself."

"What was it like?" I inquired, curious to know if his description would
agree with that furnished to me by my papers.

"It was of pure gold," said Faris enthusiastically, "and wonderfully
fashioned. It represented on the outer side, as seen on the waist of
anyone wearing it, twelve life-like serpents intertwined in various
contortions. The flat head of each serpent was thick-set with rare gems,
and the body of each beast was composed of a thousand or more small
links, so that the belt was as flexible as a piece of cord. It was solid
and of great weight, and the fastening consisted of the heads of four of
the serpents, two on either side, with wide-opened jaws whose fangs
interlocked. Thus much I remember of what was told to me; and I remember
also that my father affirmed that no man fastened the belt round his
body with impunity. So great was the power contained in it, that the
wearer appeared instantly to become demented, to rave, and foam at the
mouth, and in some instances even to die before the belt could be
removed from his body. A party of the Khazail who first dug up the
thing suffered considerably in this respect, and perhaps it was
fortunate for them that when attacking a caravan of Persian pilgrims
returning from Mecca they were worsted, and in the fight lost their
treasured circlet. The Persians, shortly afterwards, perished to a man,
when the winds of the desert swept up, and buried them and their camels
in the hot sand. The belt was lost for a while, and forgotten. Then came
the day when some merchants of Hayil, on a journey to Baghdad, chanced
to come across the remains of the Persian caravan, and found the belt
lying half buried in the sand. The finder's claim to its possession was
disputed by his fellows, and in the altercation that followed, he, as
well as three friends who espoused his cause, were killed. The others,
deciding to sell the belt in Baghdad and divide the proceeds, went on
their way. They travelled by night, hoping thus to avoid the bands of
robbers by whom the road was infested, and they lost the direction, so
that they found themselves at length far to the south of Baghdad near to
the river Tigris. One night they slept in the great ruined hall of the
Kosroes at Ctesiphon, and while they slept a vast portion of the walls
gave way and fell, crushing all that remained of the party save two men
who fled in terror, but not before they had secured the golden belt.
They were almost immediately overtaken by robbers, who stripped them of
their clothes, took all their possessions, and decamped with everything,
including that girdle. All those things occurred when my father was
quite a young man, and when my father's father was sheik. I have said
enough to show you that there was a curse on the belt, and that all who
touched it paid the penalty--usually a severe one."

"But, sheik," I said, "tell me more of these weird tales, which interest
me greatly. Had you been a servant of the great Harun-al-Rashid you
could not have learned to tell stories better. Come, the Shammar have
no intention of annoying us, so relate all that you know of the
mysterious workings of the belt until it disappeared for ever. What
became of the robbers who left the two merchants naked in the desert,
and what became of the merchants?"

"Well, story-telling passes the dark hours pleasantly, and though I
would prefer to hear from you the doings of your own people in your
native land, I am your host and therefore your servant, who needs must
obey his master. What became of the merchants I cannot say, for no man
ever knew. Perhaps they perished from exposure to the scorching sun;
perhaps they died of hunger and thirst; or perhaps they fell an easy
prey to the wild beasts. But in what manner they met their death Allah
alone knows. Of the robbers I can tell you what was told to me. They
were Khazail, and strange as it may appear, there were among them some
men who had been of the party that dug up the belt and afterwards lost
it to the Persians. Now these men had been witnesses of the evil that
befell those of their tribesmen who had worn the belt--how some had
died, and some had for a time become mad--and they cautioned their
companions against having anything to do with it. After a long
discussion, they decided that they would bury it on the bank of the
river, send the chief of the party to Baghdad to interview a Jew dealer,
and endeavour to sell it. The Jew eventually returned with the chief,
examined the belt, and bought it for a thousand kerans, after which he
rolled it up carefully in his cloak and conveyed it home. Next day, he
repaired to the palace of the Governor-General and offered the belt for
sale for five thousand kerans; but the Governor-General refused to buy
it for so great a sum. That night the Jew's house was consumed by fire,
the Jew himself being burned to death, and nothing remained of the
contents of the house.

"That the golden belt did not perish in the flames is certain, since it
appeared again after some little time; and many years afterwards a
slave-attendant of the palace harem stated that she had seen a
mysterious snake-girdle hanging therein. It may be that its presence
there accounted for the fact, which was well known at the time, that a
grievous sickness attacked the ladies of the harem and their children.
Many died, for there was nothing that would cure them. But of that
little ever came to light.

"In the course of time the Governor-General, returning to Turkey, took
the road to Damascus, accompanied by a large following and a strong
escort. The news that so large a party was leaving Baghdad to cross the
desert soon got noised abroad among the tribes, but none were found
daring enough to risk an attack on it. A band of Shammar, however,
followed on the heels of the great caravan at a safe distance for some
days, watching their opportunity to waylay stragglers, and eventually
came up with two camels which had broken down and were being urged on by
a few men. The Shammar made short work of the men, and looted the
packages carried by the camels. They contained much valuable property,
and sewn up carefully in several silk _kaffiyas_ was found the Golden
Belt. Fearing to be followed, the robbers made off with their booty as
rapidly as possible, and did not stop until they had put many miles
between them and the caravan. Now it would seem, from what has been
related, that the silk covering which enclosed the belt deprived it of
its power of causing harm; for, it is on record that so long as it was
wrapped up, no man suffered any evil effects from touching it, and it
remained in the possession of the Shammar for some years. Those Khazail
who had first dug it up, and later on sold it to the Jew in Baghdad,
came to see it in the Shammar tents, and identified it as the same belt.
They warned the Shammar of its hidden power, but were derided. Other
tribes, hearing of the Shammar treasure, for which even a Baghdad Jew
had paid a thousand kerans, made friends with its owners, so that they
might inspect it. In this manner this offshoot of the Shammar made
alliances with many tribes who had hitherto been hostile to them, and
the Aeniza--too proud to approach their ancient enemies--were forsaken
by many of their old friends.

"About this time my father's father died, and my father became Sheik of
the Jelas. When he addressed his people, he told them that their
hereditary foes, the Shammar, had grown strong because of their
ownership of the serpents of gold, and he urged upon them the necessity
of breaking the power of the Shammar, by attacking the small Salama
tribe who held the belt, and seizing their treasure. It was my father
himself who told me of this, so I know it to be true. He picked thirty
of his best fighting men, rode all night, and attacked the Salama's camp
at dawn. They resisted bravely, and a fierce fight ensued, but so sudden
had been the onslaught, that the victory was easy. In those days, the
Jelas neither gave nor expected quarter, and though they lost several
men, they utterly destroyed the whole family of the Shammar Salama
occupying these tents, with the exception of the sheik,
Jedaan-ibn-Mirshid, and his spear-bearer, who, leaping to their horses,
fled away. The pursuit was immediately taken up. Jedaan's mare cast a
shoe, which caused her to stumble and fall, and my father, riding up,
slew his enemy with his own hand--capturing the priceless Shahzadi, who,
as you know, was none other than the grand-dam of dear Kushki."

"But how," I asked, "did Shahzadi's shoe become the talisman of the
Muntafik?"

"Ah, that," said the sheik, "is a story for another time."

"And so," I said, "your people secured the Golden Girdle."

"No," replied Faris. "Do you not remember what was written in the paper
which you read to me? Jedaan's spear-bearer escaped in the confusion
attending the combat between my father and the Salama sheik; and, as was
discovered later on, he carried the belt with him. What happened to him
and the belt was only learned many years afterwards. He fled for refuge
to the abode of a seer with whom many of the Bedouin tribes were on
friendly terms, and whom they were in the habit of consulting. This seer
dwelt alone in an underground chamber amongst the ruins of a town named
Katib, at no great distance from Meshed Ali, and he received the refugee
kindly, hiding him in his chamber for several days. When he heard the
tale that he had to tell, and saw that he had with him the Golden Belt,
he was much troubled; for he was convinced that, since the Shammar had
worn the belt round his waist, he would either die before long or become
mad. The seer determined to do what he could to save his guest, and
after going through various ceremonies, which we people do not
understand, he affirmed that he had held converse with the spirit of the
dead Queen, who had told him that if the man proceeded to the ruins of
Babil and buried the belt in the spot from which it had been dug up, so
that no man should ever be able to find it again, and if he afterwards
went and bathed in the Euphrates river, then no further harm should come
to him. The Shammar, now beginning to feel ill, said that he was willing
to obey any command that the seer should give him, but that it was
impossible for him to discover the spot where he should bury the belt.
This his friend assured him would be simple, since the spirit of the
Great Queen could be procured to lend assistance. The Shammar late that
night was given a potent draught; and the seer, after lengthy
incantations, declared that the spirit had entered into him, and that he
could conduct his guest to the very spot. So the two, taking the belt,
proceeded to the ruins of Babil, and there buried the thing. Then the
seer said that the spirit of the Queen required that a great fire
should be lighted over the burial-place, as a signal to the gods that
the Golden Belt was once again at rest. The bushes grew dense all
around; to fire them was a simple matter; and the wind blew the flames
till the fire spread far and wide. This done, the seer commanded the
Shammar to ride with all speed to the river, and there bathe. The
serpents, however, had already eaten into the flesh of the man, and he
was no longer sane. He reached the river bank at dawn, and there, after
a few hours, his body was found impaled on his own spear. Such was the
end of the Golden Belt, and of the last man who wore it. That it
happened as I have told you I am certain, as I had it from the very lips
of that self-same seer."

"Then you knew him yourself," I exclaimed, in astonishment.

"Certainly," replied the sheik.

"How long ago did he die?" I asked.

"He still lives," said the sheik. "He is an old man, but many believe
that he will never die."

The day was already dawning as Faris concluded his strange story, and
the mares were being collected together to continue the journey to the
sheik's headquarters, as it was not considered safe to leave them at
this outlying grazing ground. I thanked my host for having taken the
trouble to talk at such length for my entertainment, but he impressed on
me that his main object had been to show me how useless it was for me to
think of endeavouring to find the Golden Girdle. As a matter of fact,
the end of his story had quite the opposite effect; for the knowledge
that the seer was still in the land of the living gave me a ray of
hope.




CHAPTER VII.

THE FIRE OF THE GODS.


"Well," said Edwards, after I had given him the sheik's account of the
mysterious girdle, "what is your programme now? We cannot with any
respectability go on sponging off Faris much longer. Besides, I am not a
free man like yourself; I only obtained a month's leave, and three weeks
of it have already gone. In fact, I am beginning to be nervous about the
prospects of my being able to reach Baghdad before my leave is up."

"Never mind about your leave," I replied. "Forget the wretched fact that
you are tied down to time. Think of the honour and the glory of running
the Golden Girdle to earth. We are on the scent, man. It is breast high.
With any luck, we shall kill in the open. So take a bit more leave, and
risk it."

Edwards laughed.

"All right," he said, at last, "I suppose I cannot help myself. But I
was beginning to have visions of being able to slip off with this money
belt of yours, which I think is more likely to be useful than the other
golden one that you are worrying about."

He took off the belt and threw it across the tent to me; as I caught it,
some money dropped out of the pockets; and in picking up the gold coins,
I noticed that two of them were not English sovereigns, but 10-mark
pieces.

"That is curious," I remarked; "I wonder where these came from. I am
perfectly certain my gold was all English. I suppose the thief had found
a German wandering about the desert at some time or other."

I then examined all the pockets carefully, and found all my own money
where it had always been; but there were two pockets at the back which I
had not used, and in these I discovered, to my astonishment, eight more
10-mark pieces, and a sheet of paper on which something was written in
German.

"Can you read German?" I asked.

"Yes, a bit," said Edwards.

"Then come along," said I, "and let us see what it is all about."

Edwards took the scrap of paper, looked at it for a second, then gasped.

"You have been properly done. Listen to this:"

     "To the merchant of Baghdad who shall be nameless. This to acquaint
     you of my success. The bearer will hand you the Serpent Belt of the
     Great Queen. On receipt of it, examine it thoroughly, and having
     assured yourself that it is genuine, pay the Arab 5000 kerans. Pack
     the belt carefully in a box of dates, and proceed with it
     immediately on the steamer to Bussorah. I send the Serpents to you,
     so that the sheik may be paid his money, and because I fear that I
     may be robbed of it if I keep the belt on my person. Your own
     reward as agreed upon you can deduct from my account. A thousand
     thanks for your assistance, from your devoted friend whose name you
     know."

"Is that all?" I asked.

"Every word," replied Edwards. "Isn't it enough?"

"I should have liked a date," said I.

"There isn't one," said Edwards; "but it has not been written long. You
can see that by the pencil writing."

I looked at the paper again. There was no doubt that someone else had
found my treasure, and had thus anticipated me. Then it suddenly
occurred to me that the man who was carrying this note had been killed;
that the note had never been delivered, and that consequently the Golden
Girdle had never been handed over to the nameless Baghdad merchant.
Still, the fact remained that, to all appearances, the girdle had been
dug up by a European--German, Swiss, Austrian, or some other--and was
undoubtedly above ground. I had lost it, that was certain; for, if
another European had become possessed of it, he had just as much right
to it as I should have had if I had been fortunate enough to find it. I
was bitterly disappointed; and Edwards, who hitherto had rather scoffed
at my enthusiasm, was even more angry at the turn of events than I was.
We held a long consultation as to what we should do, and we came to the
conclusion that we were powerless to do anything. It was evident from
the note that my rival knew the value of his find as well as I did,
otherwise he would not be paying away large sums of money for it.
Therefore it would be useless to try and find him and offer to buy it. I
decided to take Sheik Faris into my confidence and ask his advice; so I
went off to his tent, and told him about the note. At first he laughed
at the whole thing, saying that it was absurd to believe that anyone had
been able to find the girdle.

"When I slew Abbas-ibn-Rashid the other day," he said calmly, "I took
care to search his body carefully. He certainly was not in possession of
the Golden Belt of Serpents, or it would now be with me."

"Perhaps," I suggested, "some other member of the party had it, and rode
away with it."

"I cannot believe," said the sheik, "that anyone has found it. Still,
now that I reflect, there was that stranger--Indian, Syrian, or
whatsoever he was--who, as I told you, fled in such haste from the
field. Can it be possible that he was escaping with the serpent belt?
Can he be the writer of that note?"

I saw it all. Undoubtedly the foreigner, aided by this party of
Shammar, had succeeded in finding the girdle, and the dead man had been
entrusted with it to convey to the Baghdad merchant. When Faris and his
men appeared on the scene, the foreigner probably took the girdle and
rode off out of harm's way. This seemed to me a very obvious solution of
the problem, but when I put it before Faris, he shook his head.

"If," he said, after a pause, "I could believe that that was really so,
I would gather every Jelas horseman, and I would hunt down that Shammar
family until I found the stranger and the girdle. I would destroy the
whole gang, and would lay the girdle at your feet."

"And thereby become entitled," I replied, with a laugh, "to the shoe
once worn by the renowned Shahzadi."

The sheik smiled and rubbed his hands together with delight.

"No, sheik," said I, "I would never accept the girdle obtained in such a
manner. If another man has found it, and has lawfully become its owner,
I should honour him in that he had succeeded where I had failed. To take
from him what was his own by right would be theft."

At this my host was somewhat abashed, though he explained that in the
desert might was right, and that what a man could not keep he must lose.

"But," said he, "my curiosity is now as great as your own, and I will
satisfy it. There is one who can tell me truly if the Great Queen's
Girdle has returned to curse the world."

"Who is he?" I asked excitedly.

"That same seer," said the sheik, "who was the last to see the serpent
belt. If anyone has disturbed its resting-place, the seer, by
communicating with the spirit of the Queen, will be able to discover all
that has occurred. You smile! You would mock at my belief in the powers
of the seer! Such incredulity we desert folk ascribe to town-bred
ignorance. We are aware that you of the towns--and especially you
Ingleezee--know many things of which we have never so much as heard;
yet, I tell you, there are things in the desert which no townsman can
fathom. You are a strong man, and courageous, as I have seen with my own
eyes. Therefore, I make this proposal to you; that you shall leave the
Hakim here with Sedjur, and shall come with me to the abode of the seer,
to hear from his lips if aught hath disturbed that accursed girdle. I
warn you that the journey will be no easy one; two days and two nights
in the saddle, carrying our own food and water; always liable to be
attacked by roving Shammar, Muntafik, and Khazail; and only our two
selves to resist attack, or to trust to the speed of our horses."

"Enough, sheik," I replied, "I will accompany you whenever you are ready
to make the journey."

"It is well," said Faris. "I did not misjudge my man. We will have
supper, and start with the moon an hour later. But you cannot go in
those clothes of yours; the seer would be afraid of you. You shall wear
garments which Sedjur and I will lend you."

Poor Edwards! I can see his face now. How he argued with me about my
madness in thinking of such a crack-brained expedition! But he argued in
vain, and when he saw that I was too obstinate to listen to him, he
changed his tone and did all he could to help me prepare for my ride,
dressing me up in my borrowed clothes, packing my light saddle-bags, and
insisting on stuffing my pockets with enough revolver ammunition to wipe
out half the Bedouins of the desert. I handed him over my money belt,
for safe keeping; gave him instructions about returning to Baghdad if I
failed to put in an appearance within a certain time; then, after
grasping his hand, I mounted my little horse, and rode off by the side
of the sheik.

We followed no visible track, but my companion never hesitated.
Occasionally he looked up at the stars, but otherwise he sat motionless
in the saddle, forging ahead at a fair pace hour after hour. I kept
close on his heels, with my eyes intent on the blade of his spear, which
was visible high above his head. I did not dare to break the silence, as
I had been warned that at any moment we might run across Bedouins who
would probably prove enemies. Throughout that whole night, I may say, I
rode with my heart in my mouth, and with my hand on my revolver. When
the moon had sunk, the darkness was intense, and Faris slackened his
speed, and more than once dismounted, to place his ear to the ground and
listen. At dawn we halted on a rise, from which we could see the whole
country for many miles around, when the sheik told me to get an hour's
sleep while he watched; and I required no second bidding. On being
awakened, I found my companion preparing to continue the journey; and
after eating some dried dates and small cakes, we set out again, just as
the sun commenced to rise over the boundless plain. No incident occurred
to break the weariness of that day's ride; no human being, no beast, no
bird was visible at any time; but before us always lay the mirage of
distant water and the reflections of many buildings. Sometimes we halted
to rest the horses and to snatch a meal or a nap; but such halts were of
short duration, as the sheik insisted on pushing with all haste through
what he now explained was a waterless region. We had almost expended on
our horses and ourselves the water that we carried in our water-skins,
and it was, therefore, a relief, at sundown, to see before us a far
extending lake and marsh, which my friend assured me was no deceitful
mirage. Tired as I was, I fully appreciated the delightful change of
scene, as we rode through the scrub and green grass bordering the swamp,
flushing snipe and waterfowl at almost every step.

"Are you sorry that you came?" asked the sheik, as we watered our
gallant little beasts.

"No," I replied, "this alone is well worth it all. But, tell me, how far
have we yet to go? I confess to you that I feel that I am in very truth
a townsman, and not made of the same stuff as your horses and
yourselves."

Faris smiled, and it was a pleasure to see his face relax, for
throughout our ride he had worn a hard set expression, with eyes ever
keen and restless. I knew, from the change, that he was no longer
anxious, and he apologised profusely for having taxed my powers of
endurance so highly.

"The worst is over," he said. "Because of the water, it was advisable to
hurry. By midnight we shall have accomplished our journey."

It wanted yet an hour of midnight when, having ridden for some miles
beyond the marsh, the moon showed us that we were entering extensive
ruins. After picking our way through the débris of stone and brickwork
for a considerable distance, the sheik stopped, and taking out some
cords, thrust his spear into the ground and fastened our horses to it.

"Now listen," said he. "Twice will I call the owl, and once the jackal.
If the cry of the hyæna comes back in reply all is well, and we can
proceed."

Then, raising both hands to his mouth, he imitated both shriek-owl and
jackal, the weird cries echoing again and again through the ruins. We
listened intently, but there was no reply. Again the owl and the jackal
called; and yet a third time. Then, after a short pause, there arose,
within a few yards of us, the unmistakable cry of the hyæna.

"Good," said the sheik, "he has heard. Do you remain here, while I go
and interview him. It would not be wise to take you with me, for I must
first warn the old man to expect a stranger."

So Faris disappeared into the darkness, and I sat on a heap of brickwork
anxiously awaiting his return. He may not have been absent long, though
it seemed that he was away for hours. I was dead tired, and more than
once I found myself dropping off to sleep, waking up suddenly each time
with a start. Then I began to think that I saw beasts crawling about
among the ruins; I slipped off my seat, and crouched as low as I was
able, with my finger on the trigger of my revolver, which I had drawn
ready for an emergency. Lions, I knew, were not uncommon in these parts,
and each moment I expected to be set upon by some hungry beast.
Gradually I worked myself up to the highest pitch of nervous excitement,
prepared to empty my revolver into the first moving object that became
visible. As I looked, I saw something crawling towards me; there was no
doubt about it. I raised my revolver, fingering the trigger, and nerving
myself for the shot, but the object had dropped behind a rock before I
could fire. A moment later, I heard the sheik's voice calling to me in
an almost inaudible whisper, and fearing that he would discover the
state of nervousness at which I had arrived, I hastily put away my
revolver, and answered him.

"Quietly," he said, on creeping up to my side, "do not make a noise.
There is trouble, and other people are about. The seer is expecting
visitors, some of the ruffianly Shammar, of whom he is in great fear. It
is within an hour of the appointed time, and I have promised to watch,
and help him should he call on me to do so. Keep quiet now, and listen
with both ears."

Faris lay flat on the ground with his ear close to it, whilst I sat
listening intently. The minutes passed, and no sound disturbed the
deathly silence. Suddenly, the sheik whispered to me that he could hear
their horses galloping towards us. Save the beating of my own heart, I
could hear nothing.

"They have left their horses," said the sheik, "and are walking up to
the seer's abode. We will give them time to enter, and then we will
follow."

In a few minutes Faris arose, and, bidding me keep close behind him, led
the way up a slight incline, and then down into what appeared to be a
deep hollow. In the feeble light I could just distinguish some roughly
cut steps, which with difficulty we descended. At the bottom, the sheik
took me by the wrist and guided me rapidly along a paved path ending in
a narrow gateway. Through this we passed, and entered a courtyard, at
the far side of which we could see a light streaming through the wide
cracks of a massive wooden door. On reaching the door, my companion
gripped my arm, and motioned me to halt. Through the cracks we could see
clearly all that went on in the chamber within. Several oil lamps burned
in little niches in the walls, which were white-washed and bare; from
the centre of the domed ceiling hung an iron lamp, containing half a
dozen lighted wicks; and another lamp hung over a doorway leading to an
inner chamber. Seated on a low couch against one of the walls was a tall
thin old man, clothed in a camel's-hair cloak, the hood of which
concealed the upper part of his face. Opposite to him sat three
stern-faced Bedouins, each with a spear in his hand and daggers
protruding from his waistband. High words were already in progress.

"You agreed, Gat-tooth," said one of the Bedouins, "to sell it to us for
2000 kerans; my friends here are witnesses."

"Yes," said another, "and you agreed to meet us at the grove outside
Babil, four days since, and deliver it to us."

"I was ill," said the old man, "and unable to do so."

"Know you," said the first Arab, "that your illness cost us the life of
our sheik, Abbas-ibn-Rashid, who was ever your friend?"

"I know that he was killed," was the reply, "but he died as he would
have wished, and you must all die at one time or another."

"That is indeed true both for you and for us," said the first speaker,
"but I would have you know that I am now sheik in my uncle's place, and
I have neither his generosity nor his kindness. I have sworn to avenge
his death, not only by slaying his murderer, Faris of the Jelas curs,
but also by demanding that you shall render up forthwith that for which
you would have received 2000 kerans had you kept to your agreement."

"Fine words, Ahmed," replied the seer, quite unperturbed. "Yet pause
before you act foolishly. You and your men have come here with naked
spear points, which in itself is an insult to the goddess whom I serve.
You come to this sacred spot prepared for robbery of the basest
kind--robbery from an old man, unable to defend himself with weapons
made by human hands. Now, look you, I take these eight beads from my
rosary, and I shall let them fall one by one to the floor; when the
fourth bead drops you will know that my appeal has reached the gods whom
I serve; ere the sixth strikes the ground you must have gone out from
this chamber; for, the seventh is the bead of ruin and destruction, and
the eighth brings the avenging fire."

What was about to happen I could not conjecture; the old seer, now
standing, broke the string of his rosary, and slowly counted out eight
beads. I held my breath as I watched him, and wondered if I were
dreaming. Faris laid his hand on my arm and held it as in a vice. Then
the seer, muttering a few words, stretched out his hand with a bead
between the finger and thumb. It dropped to the ground and, rebounding
from the bricks, rolled away. The three Bedouins looked at one another
and smiled; and Ahmed, rising, addressed the seer.

"Let fall your beads," said he, "and invoke your gods to the utmost. We
know them not, and we curse them as vile impostors."

The seer did not vouchsafe a reply, but holding out his hand, let fall a
second bead. A slight pause ensued, then the third bead dropped. It
seemed to me that the Bedouins now showed some signs of wavering; they
no longer smiled; and they shifted in their seats uneasily. The fourth
bead was already between finger and thumb, and, like the others, it fell
to the ground. Then the Bedouins rose, and I momentarily expected to
see them hurl themselves on the strange figure confronting them. But the
fifth bead had dropped before they moved, and as it struck the brick
floor, it broke in pieces, and, as I thought, gave out some sparks.
Whatever occurred was better seen by the Bedouins than by myself, and I
noticed that all three of them recoiled. As the sixth bead was raised by
the seer, I thought that I saw Ahmed clutch at his spear, but he and his
companions now seemed unable to move. The sparks this time were
unmistakable; and their effect on the Bedouins was to cause them to step
hurriedly back, as if in flight. It was, however, too late, for the
seventh bead left the seer's fingers immediately after the sixth; and
the eighth followed the seventh as rapidly. In place of dropping this
last one like the others, he hurled it with all his force at the very
feet of the Arabs. It struck the ground with a report like that of a
bomb, and instantly that portion of the floor seemed to open, and give
forth great tongues of flame, which leaped up to the roof, and filled
the whole chamber. It was a dreadful sight, and I could not restrain
myself from shrieking aloud at the horror of it all.

"Fly," shouted Faris, clutching convulsively at my arm, "fly, before we
also perish."

Great flames licked up the door in front of us, sweeping it away, then,
bursting into the air, shot up, and cast a lurid glare over the ruins.
By the light thus given, we were able to dash up the steps and through
the piles of broken masonry, out of the hollow, with all speed. At last,
when at a safe distance, we stopped, and turned to look back. The flames
still poured forth, but now spasmodically, and the smoke grew thicker
and blacker. Neither of us spoke, and from what I could see of his face,
my companion was as much puzzled at what had occurred as was I. Dawn was
approaching, and, as if afraid of the daylight, the flames died down,
though the black smoke continued to belch forth through the doorway.

"Sheik," I said in a low voice, hardly daring to break the silence,
"what was it?"

"As I have told you many times," he replied, "things happen in the
desert which no man can account for. Can you, with all your knowledge of
magic, say why fire suddenly issued from the ground and destroyed the
inmates of that chamber?"

"I have no knowledge of magic," I said, "and the shock occasioned by
what I saw has left me without power to think of a reason for it."

"Then I will tell you," said Faris, impressively. "The seer called on
his gods to bring fire and burn up his enemies, yet he as well as they
must have perished in the flames; for no man could have remained alive
in that chamber."

I knew the uselessness of attempting to argue; neither at that moment
was I at all sure that the sheik's solution was not the correct one. So
I held my tongue, and sat and watched the smoke hurtling into the air,
until, before long, my eyes grew heavy, my head dropped forward, and I
sank into a deep sleep.




CHAPTER VIII.

RASPUL, THE SEER.


I slept for hours, and should have continued to do so for many hours
longer, had not the sheik roused me.

"It is past mid-day," said he, "and we must be thinking of doing
something. You have slept soundly, and should be refreshed. See, the
fire is almost out."

Then the horrors of the past night came back to me; it had been no dream
after all. I looked towards the doorway in the hollow, and now only a
thin wreath of smoke was issuing from it.

"Shall we ride back to camp?" I asked.

"Not yet," replied Faris. "I must go down to the chamber and look. Will
you also come?"

I hated the idea, but I felt that it would be cowardly to let the sheik
go alone; so we walked down together, and finding that the smoke had now
ceased, we peered through the doorway into the blackened chamber. A
thick grimy soot caked the walls and the stone ceiling, and the air was
laden with a foul smell, not unlike that of the boiling asphalt being
prepared for a London street. Hesitating to enter, we stood on the
threshold, not knowing that the flames might not burst out afresh; and
the remembrance of those long tongues of fire curling through the
doorway was sufficient to make us cautious. After a little, Faris took a
step forward, and shading his eyes with his hand, looked into the gloom
of the interior. I followed, but not without some misgivings. I looked
first at the spot where the seer had been standing when I saw the last
bead leave his hand. The couch from which he had risen had disappeared;
nothing remained but a handful of ashes on the floor. I gazed across at
the other side of the chamber, and when my eyes had become accustomed to
the dim light, I was able to see a large hole in the floor exactly where
I recollected to have seen the couch on which the three Bedouins had
been seated. Faris saw it at the same instant, and uttered an
exclamation of surprise.

"Let us go carefully, and look at it," he said.

We reached the edge, and found a great pit, how deep we were unable to
see. Pungent fumes still issued from it, and we were forced to draw
back. I turned to my companion for an explanation, and he dragged me out
of the chamber, the atmosphere of which was oppressive.

"It was a bitumen well," said he, "and the seer purposely set it on fire
through the agency of his gods. I am as much astonished as yourself;
for, I have sat on that couch scores of times, never thinking that such
a thing was beneath me. Perhaps it was not always there. Perhaps it was
brought by the gods only when the seer invoked their aid. But little did
he think that in thus destroying his enemies, he would also bring his
own death."

The sheik had hardly finished speaking before we heard a low wailing
chant coming from beyond the fatal chamber. Spellbound, we stood and
listened. Now the sound grew louder; now died away. Again it came clear
and strong. It was a strange unearthly crooning; and, had I been alone,
I should have fled from it. That I trembled I have no doubt, and Faris
saw my fear.

"Courage, lad," he said, taking me by the arm. "It is someone in the
temple beyond. Come, let us go and see. Death only comes once, and our
fate has already been arranged for us. If we are to die to-day, then we
shall die. We cannot alter our fate."

I made no reply, but nerving myself with a great effort, walked with him
through the chamber to the inner doorway. There was no door--whether it
had been destroyed by the fire, or whether there never had been one, I
cannot say. Beyond the doorway was a narrow bricked passage, with here
and there long slanting slits admitting the daylight. A steep flight of
steps led us to another stone doorway, on the lintel of which were
carved queer figures of beasts. Here we stood and listened. The chanting
still continued; and we moved on for a short distance along the
tunnel-like passage. Presently we found ourselves in a circular vaulted
room, with bare walls rising to a height of some fifteen feet before the
dome of the roof began. In the centre of the dome was a hole, a foot or
so in diameter, through which the sky was visible. Eight passages,
similar to that by which we had entered, radiated from the chamber, so
that its walls appeared like solid pillars supporting the roof. We
listened again, but no sound could we now hear.

"Sheik," I whispered, fearing to speak aloud, "do you know which way to
take?"

"No," he replied, "I know not this place. I have never before penetrated
it."

"Then let us return by the way we came," I urged.

"Courage, lad," said the sheik; "we will go on."

The rebuke, uttered a second time, stung me, although I knew that it was
meant kindly. I had always thought that I possessed an ordinary amount
of courage, but it seemed now to have deserted me.

"Well, which way shall we go?" I asked in desperation.

"We will try this one," said Faris, moving to the nearest entrance on
his right.

I followed him closely along the new passage, just able to see the way
by the glimmer of daylight falling through the occasional narrow
loopholes, which slanted upwards towards the heavens. That the walls
were thick and solid we could see from the depth of the loopholes--four
feet they must have been, at the least. For some thirty yards or so the
tunnel was straight; then it took a sudden turn to the left; then, after
a few yards, a sudden turn to the right; again to the left, and twice
more in succession to the left; after which we turned at right angles to
the right, and going for a short distance, found ourselves in another
circular chamber, alike in all respects to the first one. There was
again the hole in the vaulted roof, and there were the nine passages
leading out of it.

I sighed audibly, and the sheik looked at me and laughed.

"You are a magician," he said, "come, try your magic. Divine for us which
path we had better take."

"I know no magic that could avail us in this accursed spot," I replied.
"Let us take the way that we came, and retrace our steps out of these
underground dungeons; or shall we cast lots as to the road we shall
follow?"

"We will do that," said Faris.

I took nine revolver cartridges out of my pouch, and, shaking them in my
hands, said that I would throw them on the floor; then we would enter
that passage whose entrance lay nearest to a cartridge. The sheik seemed
much impressed by this, imagining, no doubt, that I was working magic.
So, hurling the cartridges into the middle of the chamber, I watched
them roll away. One of them stopped quite close to an entrance, and the
sheik forthwith led the way into the tunnel. Our wanderings were much
the same as before, and had the same result, in that, after several
turns and twists, we arrived at another circular chamber, from which
nine passages radiated.

The sheik was now beginning to lose his temper, and he cursed the man
who had designed the building that was causing us all this trouble. Then
he suddenly stepped forward, and stooping down, picked up something,
which he handed to me. That something was one of my own revolver
cartridges!

"Do you understand?" asked the sheik.

"I must have just dropped it," I replied.

"No," said he, "it is one of those that you threw on the ground. We have
returned to the chamber from which we set out. These tunnels have made
fools of us. Shall we leave them, and abandon our search?"

"Yes," I said eagerly, "it is the best thing we can do, for I see that
you are right; we certainly have come back twice to the same place."

But now arose a difficulty; there was no difference in appearance
between the entrance to one tunnel and that to another. Nine of them
confronted us. We knew which one we had just issued from, but we knew
nothing else. We walked round the chamber and examined each passage, but
found no clue. My heart sank, for I observed that the scanty light which
came into the dungeon was rapidly growing less, and that the day, in the
outside world, was evidently fast drawing to a close. Faris, though
annoyed at being outwitted, was still cheerful--and his cheerfulness
irritated me.

"Come, magician, cast lots again," said he. "Maybe this time they will
avail us better. The nearest cartridge to the tunnel which shall bring
us freedom. Throw the nine."

Again I threw the cartridges, and, as before, we wandered through a
passage, now almost dark, expecting each moment to reach the flight of
steps by which we had descended some hours before. We were, however,
doomed to disappointment. The passage turned and twisted, and eventually
brought us back to the prison chamber, with its high walls and its domed
roof.

It was now so dark that we could barely see the entrances to the various
passages; there seemed to be nothing for it but to spend the night where
we were and again attack the tunnels in the daylight. I, myself, was
dejected, dead tired, hungry, and thirsty; perhaps, I thought, we should
never get out of the place, but wander about until we died of hunger and
thirst. Faris, however, was quite hopeful.

"We will sleep here in comfort," he said, "like true townsmen, with a
roof over our heads. There is no water, certainly, but I have some dried
dates in my pocket, and they will sustain us. When daylight returns, we
will try each passage in turn, until we find that one which leads to the
steps."

"Could not we break through the wall," I asked, "and so escape?"

"The walls are thick and firmly cemented, as you must have noticed," he
replied. "Save my knife, we have no instruments with which to pick out
the bricks. Still, if, when the light comes, we fail to find the passage
that we want, then will we attack the walls. Come, here are some dates,
eat and be joyful; after which we will sleep and have pleasant dreams.
Then to-morrow we will gallop our little horses across the desert. Poor
beasts, they must be tired of waiting for us."

All light soon left the chamber, and through the opening in the roof we
could see the stars mocking at us. From each of the nine tunnels the
chill air appeared to pour in upon us, so that, for warmth, we sat close
together, with our backs against the portion of wall which separated one
passage from the next. In this position, in absolute darkness, we ate
our hard, dried dates, and tried to sleep. Whether or not the sheik and
I actually slept I am not certain. I think that I, at any rate, must
have done so, because I have no recollection of hearing or seeing
anything until I felt the sheik's great horny hand gripping my thigh,
and I became aware that something was happening. A light was streaming
into the chamber, and, as I looked, I saw the wall between two tunnels
exactly opposite to us gradually opening like a hinged door. The portion
of wall was, in fact, an actual door, and when it had opened wide, I
could see behind it a narrow passage, lighted with small lamps. In the
doorway there stood what appeared to me to be an immensely tall naked
figure, and so thin that it might have been the representation of a
living skeleton. The head and face were streaked with paint, so that
they resembled a fleshless skull, and the ribs and other bones of the
body were also painted to look like the outline of a skeleton. For a
second it hesitated on the threshold, with one arm stretched out towards
us; then slowly stepping into the chamber, it closed the door, and thus
left us again in darkness.

Neither of us spoke. I, personally, imagined that what I had seen was
merely in a dream; but I was wide awake, and could clearly hear my
companion breathing. The spectre, or whatever it was, was shuffling
about in front of us, and I expected each moment to feel the touch of
ghostly hands. Then in a deep sepulchral voice came the words:--

"Strangers are here within the sacred precincts. Let them account for
themselves, ere the fire comes to destroy them."

"We are not willingly here," answered the sheik, fearlessly. "We are
lost, and if you will guide us to the outside world, we will gladly
follow."

"Who are ye who speak thus lightly?" inquired the spectre.

"Faris-ibn-Feyzul," replied the sheik, "and a friend."

Then we heard a click, and the wall-door opened, showing the strange
figure standing in the entrance to the lighted passage. The outstretched
arm pointed down the passage, and presently the figure turned and
motioned to us to follow.

"Come," whispered Faris to me, "we will see what it means, even though
it be Death that is enticing us on."

So we started on our new and fearful journey, being led, as it seemed to
me, to execution. The passage was not of great length, and it ended
suddenly in a blank wall. There was again a clicking sound, and a
portion of the wall swung back to allow us to pass through, and what a
sight met our gaze!

We entered an octagonal-shaped temple, evidently of a most ancient date,
with walls of glazed bricks of various colours and arranged in strange
patterns. All around was a species of colonnade, supported by carved
pillars, standing on the heads of winged bulls, and in the alcoves of
the colonnade were long stone benches. Numerous small lamps illuminated
the interior, and in the centre was a black wooden altar, with,
immediately above it, an opening in the roof. Even at such a moment as
this I could not help thinking what my uncle would give to see this
magnificent specimen of a Babylonian temple; and I wondered how it had
happened that all the scientific excavators had failed to discover these
extraordinary and interesting remains. Such thoughts as these, however,
did not occupy my mind for long, for the stern reality of the present
soon drove away all musings on the past.

As soon as the door had shut to with the uncanny click, the sound of
which was beginning to be familiar, the ghost-man turned and faced us.
My hand involuntarily moved towards my revolver; for I had made up my
mind that, whatever line the sheik might take, I would defend myself in
the event of attack. The figure saw my intention.

"Fear not," said he, in a soft voice, "you are my guests here, in the
Temple, and are under the protection of the gods. Faris, it is I, Raspul
the Seer, who welcome you. When I heard you in the outer chamber, I was
offering a sacrifice to the gods who have recently befriended me. It is
a great occasion, and before attending to your wants, I must finish the
ceremony required of me."

The sheik's face was a study of utter bewilderment. He looked at our
strange host, but said nothing. Neither had he time to do so; for the
seer abruptly left us, and began his devotions, while we sank on to a
bench in the nearest alcove. The air of the temple and its surroundings
was heavy with intoxicating perfumes, which appeared to mount to one's
brain; and I noticed that Faris more than once put his hand to his
forehead, as if feeling their effects. As to myself, I found it
difficult to realise that I was not dreaming. But that things happened
as I am about to relate I firmly believe; for I afterwards
cross-questioned Faris carefully, and what he described that he saw
agreed exactly with what I am convinced that I saw, and he could have
had no object in deceiving me. Yet, I have often thought that both of us
must have been under some extraordinary influence, which, for the time
being, at any rate, warped our intellects, and caused us to see, or to
imagine that we saw, things which in more sober moments we should have
ridiculed.




CHAPTER IX.

IN THE TEMPLE OF SOPHANA.


One by one the lamps that flickered in the temple were extinguished by
the seer, who left burning only those two which hung on either side of
the altar. Then Raspul stood before the altar, with arms upraised, and
head thrown back so as to look through the roof-hole, apparently wrapped
in meditation. His lips moved rapidly, and at times his whole body
became convulsed. Finally, he bowed before the altar, and threw dust on
his head.

As we watched, we saw the weird figure rise up and walk slowly across
the pavement to a small door, through which it passed, and disappeared
for a while. When the seer entered the temple again, he was a changed
man. He was no longer disguised in paint, but was clothed in a long
yellow silken robe. I now for the first time saw his face clearly. It
was thin and wan, with a parchment-like skin almost of the same colour
as his robe, and clean shaven--as was also the whole of his head. Such a
face I had never seen before, and I gazed on it in wonder.

"Is this really the seer of whom you told me," I whispered to Faris,
"and the same that we thought had perished in the fire?"

"Yes," he replied, "but do not speak, for fear of breaking the spell
which is upon him."

So I remained silent, and watched intently the movements of the seer,
who was now busying himself around the massive wooden altar. From the
doorway he brought faggots, and piling them up, poured oil over them;
then he took a lighted wick from the hanging lamp, and set fire to the
pile on all sides. The burning sticks crackled, and the flames shot up
towards the hole in the roof, and we could see that the altar itself was
ablaze. Why should the man--or priest, as he evidently was--destroy his
own altar, I wondered. Could it be that the seer had become mad? Yet he
appeared to be perfectly calm, as, standing back from the heat of the
fire, he gazed on his handiwork.

He was now praying earnestly, and at times stretched out his hands
towards the altar in supplication. At first only his lips moved, and no
sound came from them; but, presently, in his fervour, he began to speak
aloud, and then slowly but clearly came the words.

"O Queen! Great Goddess-Queen! Think not that Raspul, thy slave, thy
worshipper, hath done aught to merit thy displeasure. Never had he any
intention of betraying his trust, and had not the fire come to help him,
he would have willingly died in the defence of the secret. He lied to
the tribesmen who sought the treasure, and he made false promises. For
such things, I, Raspul, humble myself before my Queen and the gods, and
seek their pardon. Manifest thyself, Immortal Sophana, and thus let thy
slave know that his deeds have not been misunderstood."

As he spoke, the seer continuously flung handfuls of incense on to the
fire, and the flames streaked upwards in varied colours, while the
temple was filled with penetrating odours. The glare, the heat, and the
heavily-perfumed air made my head throb until I thought it would burst,
and the sheik, I noticed, was equally overcome. The altar was rapidly
being consumed; the flames had died down; curls of smoke ascended; while
the massive timbers, glowing red, began to crumble away and fall to the
ground. Then, suddenly the whole structure tottered and fell with a
crash, an immense volume of smoke leaping towards the roof-hole, and
filling every corner of the temple. Nearly blinded and half-suffocated,
I began to fear that the seer was attempting to destroy us in the same
way that we had seen him destroy his three Bedouin foes.

"Let us escape," I said to Faris, as I jumped to my feet; "quick, before
we are smothered."

"Lie down flat on the floor," he replied, "and keep quiet. The smoke
will, in the course of time, all pass through the hole."

"Look!" he said presently, touching me on the arm.

I raised myself from the floor, and turned my eyes towards the spot
where the altar had been. The smoke was clearing off; and, as it
cleared, I saw, by the dim light of the single lamp, two figures among
the pieces of charred wood. One was kneeling, and I recognised in it the
form of the seer. The other was standing, and it was the figure of a
woman.

"O Goddess-Queen!" muttered the seer in a low tone, "I thank thee for
once again coming to me in my old age. It shall be as thou commandest.
It were better to destroy it for ever, than to permit it to be the cause
of further bloodshed. Maybe, its spirit shall be wafted to the palace
wherein thou now dwellest; and, Great Goddess, if it be thy pleasure,
permit the spirit of Raspul, thy slave, to pass, at the same time, into
thy service in the other world."

The smoke had by this time completely cleared away, and the sheik and I,
eager to see the better, quietly rose from the ground, and stood behind
one of the pillars. I was now able to see the figure of the goddess
distinctly. I looked intently, and it seemed to me that what I saw was a
corpse, tightly swathed in grave-clothes. It stood motionless, and as
the face was turned away from us, we were unable to distinguish its
features. Once or twice I thought that I detected a slight quiver in the
body; but I was in a state of intense nervous excitement, and was
capable of imagining almost anything. Thus, behind the shelter of the
pillar, we stood looking at the strange pair, and anxiously awaiting
developments. There was now no sound; Raspul still knelt before the
goddess, who neither spoke nor moved; and the moments that passed seemed
to us to be endless. At length, the seer rose slowly from his knees, and
stood erect, his head bent forward, and his arms hanging by his side.
Then, turning in our direction, as if suddenly remembering our presence,
he spoke in a solemn, impressive voice which resounded through the whole
temple.

"Faris-ibn-Feyzul and that other man," he said, "listen to the command
of the Great Goddess Sophana. When you leave this her temple, if you
ever leave it alive, you must banish from your minds aught that you have
witnessed herein. You will not move from the spot whereon you are now
standing until the goddess grants you permission to do so. Should you
disobey, then will the curse of the gods be upon you, and by their fires
shall you perish. These are the words of the Beloved of the Gods, that
Immortal Sophana, who during her sojourn in this world was Queen of the
Assyrians. I, Raspul, her slave, have said it."

Having delivered himself of this warning, to which neither of us
replied, the seer turned again towards the goddess, and raising his robe
took from his waist a roll of silk. Sweeping clean a small space on the
floor, he laid the roll upon it, and then began to unwind fold after
fold of silk wrappings, and it was soon apparent that a belt was hidden
within. Have I lived another life, in another world? I kept saying to
myself, as I watched what was taking place. I had, perhaps, dreamed of
it; but certainly I had somewhere before seen it all clearly enough. I
knew exactly what was going to happen, and that which I expected did
actually happen. The last fold of silk was unwound, and there lay in
Raspul's hands the GOLDEN GIRDLE. I was not astonished, but the sight
of it made me shiver with excitement, until my teeth chattered, and so
close was I standing to the sheik that I could feel that he was in much
the same state as myself. Even he, the immovable Bedouin, was showing
emotion.

"The Serpent Belt," he gasped out in an undertone.

"Yes," I whispered in reply, "it is good to have lived even to have seen
it. But what will he do with it?"

"Hush," said the sheik, "let us wait and see."

We were not left long in suspense as to forthcoming events, for no
sooner did the seer expose the belt to view than, kissing it reverently,
he clasped it round the waist of his goddess. Then, kneeling once more
before her, he prayed aloud.

"To the Immortal Goddess," he said, "I, her servant, return that which
in her worldly existence ever bore her to victory, and which, when she
was taken to rule over the gods, remained behind to become the curse of
the covetous inhabitants of the world. It was at thy command, Great
Goddess-Queen, that I caused the last man who ever saw it to re-inter it
in its abiding-place. It was at thy command that death afterwards came
to him. It was at thy command that I, Raspul the seer, recovered it, and
by none other than thyself, Sophana Great Goddess-Queen, was I appointed
its guardian. The time has now, doubtless, come when it is meet that I
should quit this world and pass into the service of the gods. For that
reason I willingly obey the behest of my mistress, who ordereth that,
through fire, the spirit of the Sacred Belt shall soar into the realms
of the Great Unknown."

Much more he said, but he spoke in an undertone and we could only catch
a word here and there. I now feared the worst. He was evidently going to
destroy the Golden Girdle; and the thought that all my hopes of
obtaining it were about to be dashed to the ground made me forget
fatigue, hardship, fear, and everything else. I quietly drew my
revolver, hardly knowing what I intended to do, but Faris saw the
movement, and seized my wrist.

"Fool," said he, "would you murder a priest in the presence of his
goddess, in her own temple? Tush! it were madness."

I knew that it would be so; yet, was I to stand by and see the whole
object of my journey, the one thing that I imagined that I lived for,
destroyed before my very eyes? There was the Golden Girdle almost within
my grasp--barely twenty paces from me. I could see each serpent that
composed it clearly outlined on the white figure of the goddess. One
shot from my revolver would secure the treasure. But the sheik's grip
brought me to my senses and saved me from being a murderer.

"Speak to him, then," I said, in a state of agitation. "Offer him a
price for the Serpent Belt."

"It would be useless," answered Faris. "He is possessed, and cannot
control his actions. See, he is preparing the fire which is to consume
it."

The seer had already brought cakes of bitumen and charcoal, and had
kindled a small but hot fire. With difficulty he placed a heavy iron
vessel over it, and then, blowing on it through a hollow bamboo, watched
the fuel ignite and grow red. Every now and then, he prostrated himself
before the goddess, and besought her to give heat to the fire, which, it
seemed to me, she must have done; for, before long the iron vessel began
to glow, and was soon red hot. That the end was near I realised; and as
Raspul, after examining the vessel carefully, moved towards the goddess,
my hand again sought my revolver--but only again to be arrested by my
companion.

[Illustration: "HE PROSTRATED HIMSELF BEFORE THE GODDESS, AND BESOUGHT
HER TO GIVE HEAT TO THE FIRE"]

Then Raspul knelt, and began to unclasp the belt, while I held my
breath. It was undone. The seer took it in his hands, turned it over,
and fondled it. Great beads of perspiration stood out on my forehead as
I saw the glitter of the golden serpents, which seemed to writhe and
twist about as if alive. Faris grew impatient and, to my horror, stamped
his foot on the ground.

Whether Raspul and his goddess heard that stamp no man can say; but, as
if in response to it, there occurred the most fearful noise that has
ever fallen on my ears. With a terrific crash, huge portions of the roof
surrounding the hole rained down on the head of the unfortunate seer,
who must have been instantly killed. Enormous masses of masonry hurtled
on to the goddess, who, however, stood unmoved. At first, I imagined
that the wrath of the gods had overtaken Faris and myself for my
companion's thoughtless stamp, but why the faithful Raspul should have
suffered I could not understand. All this, and many other thoughts,
passed through my mind in the space of a second; for, no sooner did we
see the seer stricken down than we forgot all dread of the consequences
and rushed to his assistance. Yet, barely had we advanced a couple of
steps into the actual temple, before another portion of the roof fell,
and with it the lamp which provided the only light. Suddenly we heard a
chorus of voices above us; and, looking up at the great gap in the roof,
we could see that day was just dawning, and that a number of men were
peering down into the temple.

"Stand quiet," said the sheik, softly. "Get your revolver ready, and we
will fall on them when they enter. By their speech I take them for some
of the twice-accursed Shammar."

Then, by the scanty light coming through the hole, we saw a rope lowered
from above, and immediately a man descended to the ground. In another
second he gave a shout, and before we realised what was taking place, he
was swiftly hauled up again through the gaping roof. We waited for
others to descend, but no others came. Presently, we heard a wild shout
of exultation, and the sounds of many feet hurrying over the roof. Then
all was quiet.

"What is it that has happened?" I asked the sheik, when I could find my
tongue.

"Allah alone knows," said he. "It may be that the Shammar came to avenge
their three friends whom the seer caused to perish by fire. They are
satisfied, and have gone. But, come, there is light enough now, let us
see if the unfortunate man is truly dead."

Over the pile of fallen masonry, in the fast growing light, we clambered
to the spot where Raspul lay. There we found his body, with the life
crushed out of it by great heaps of stone and brickwork. Close by stood
the goddess, beautifully sculptured in white stone, but broken and
chipped by the avalanche that had recently descended on it. Faris looked
at the figure with a certain amount of reverence, then sat on some
stones in silence--a silence which I, for my part, felt no inclination
to break. I had passed through enough in the last few hours to desire
nothing but quiet, so, sinking on to the ground, I endeavoured to
collect my thoughts.

After a while, the sheik suddenly turned to me, and looked steadily into
my face.

"You are a great magician," he said, "to have caused all this to happen.
I told you once that your magic could not prevail against that of
Raspul. I spoke foolishly, for he lies dead before you."

"Sheik," I replied, vehemently, "I have denied to you that I am a
magician. I swear it before my God, before Allah, and before the gods of
the heathen. I have had no hand in these terrible events. I possess no
power to work good or ill; and I beseech you to believe my words."

"Then I will believe you," he replied, holding out his hand and grasping
mine; "for, under such circumstances as these, I doubt if any living man
would dare to speak otherwise than truly. But what is done is done, and
we cannot alter it. It was Raspul's fate to die thus, and from what we
heard him say, he knew that he was to die soon. His spirit has doubtless
gone whither he wished it to go, but he cannot have taken the Golden
Serpents with him. That will be your reward for all that you have passed
through."

It seemed to me that there would be something of sacrilege in taking the
belt from the hands of the dead seer, lying at the feet of the image of
his goddess. I did not like the idea of it--in fact my heart failed me.
I argued with myself on the folly of neglecting the opportunity now that
it had come; but the longer I reflected the less inclined did I feel to
have anything to do with the mysterious girdle. I brought to mind all
that the sheik had told me of its strange history, and I remembered that
so long as it remained wound round with silk it was harmless. Here with
my own eyes I had seen a dire calamity follow the unwinding of the silk
wrappings, and the exposure of the shining metal. Superstition had
seized hold of me, and I dreaded to touch the thing. I confessed my
misgivings to Faris, and I saw him smile.

"You are a Christian," he said, "yet you fear the wrath of the gods of
the heathen! I myself will take the serpent belt, and if evil befalls me
then I shall count it my fate. I do not want the belt, nor the money
that it is worth, but if I can but obtain the shoe of Shahzadi, as a
reward for sending it to the big house of which you spoke, then shall I
go down to my grave in happiness."

He stepped across to the pile of rubbish under which Raspul was almost
buried, and I felt impelled to follow. We looked on the ground among the
débris, but could not see the object of our search. Removing the stones
and bricks from the body of the seer, we placed it gently on a bench in
one of the alcoves. The belt was not in his hand, as we imagined that it
would have been; neither could we discover it anywhere near the spot
where he had fallen. I became as excited as did the sheik, and together
we removed the stones, and hunted everywhere for the lost treasure. At
last we desisted, and looked at one another in bewilderment.

The Golden Girdle had disappeared.




CHAPTER X.

A DASH FOR FREEDOM.


"Possibly," I suggested, "the unfortunate seer flung the belt into the
cauldron as he fell, and it was melted."

"No," said the sheik, "that he did not do. I saw the serpents glittering
in his hand when he was on the ground. Besides, look, there is no melted
gold in the cauldron."

That was certainly true; for, though the great iron vessel had been
overturned, there was no sign of gold upon it, or anywhere on the ground
about it.

Suddenly leaping to his feet, Faris swore a fearful oath.

"Fools that we have been!" he almost shrieked in his rage. "Fools, ten
thousand times fools! That Shammar devil with the rope came to steal it,
and he carried it off. I see it all now; and we let him escape! To think
that I, Faris-ibn-Feyzul, should have been outwitted thus by my enemies!
I swear by yonder corpse," he continued, solemnly extending his hands,
"that I will avenge the death of Raspul; that, so long as my life
continues, I will war against the Shammar scoundrels who have done this
thing. I will pursue them to the uttermost ends of the earth, though it
may cost me my own life, and though it may cost my tribe the lives of
all the fighting men. I have sworn it, and may the curse of the Golden
Serpents, which is the curse of Sophana, the Great Queen, again harry
the Shammar, as it did of yore."

The man's wrath was terrible to witness. I did my best to calm him; for,
in reality, the disappearance of the girdle was rather a relief to me
than otherwise; and, after a while, he became more reasonable, and
suggested that I must be hungry. Under the circumstances it was a
somewhat prosaic suggestion; but it was certainly a fortunate one, in
that it recalled both of us to our senses. More dried dates furnished us
with a meal; and, to our joy, we found, standing in a corner of the
temple, some pots of water, of which we drank greedily. To sleep, or
even rest, was out of the question, for neither of us wished to remain
longer than necessary on the spot. How to get out of it was our next
thought, and we simultaneously decided that our only possible way of
escape would be by the hole in the roof. The idea of again attempting to
enter the maze of tunnelled passages we never for a moment entertained;
and we at once set about to discover a means by which we might reach the
opening above us. The height of the centre of the dome was at least
fifteen feet from the ground. We searched for a ladder, but could find
none; we sought in vain for wood and cords out of which we might
improvise one; and after each fruitless search I became more and more
dejected. Things had been bad enough before; but now I saw before me a
lengthy incarceration in this temple prison, if not even death by
starvation. Yet, the sheik's courage never left him. He was impatient,
certainly, at not being able to pursue his enemies forthwith; but he did
not appear to think for a moment that there was any great difficulty in
our way to freedom.

"Well," I asked at last, "what do you propose that we shall do?"

"Build a tower," replied Faris, laughing, "like that of the Birs
Nimroud, until we reach the outer world. Then for our poor little
horses; a long gallop home to our tents; and, before many days, with
spear and sword against the Shammar."

I caught the sheik's enthusiasm when I realised that his plan was
feasible; and we both set to work with a will to collect and arrange
carefully the blocks of stone and brickwork that lay scattered about.
The goddess, we found, was firmly fixed in the ground, so around the
figure we formed the foundation of our tower, and before long we had
built up to the level of her head and had completely concealed her. Each
of us in turn, like children, climbed to the top of the loose pile to
see how high we were from the ground, and then continued to add stone
after stone to the fast-growing heap. Occasionally we were delayed by a
sudden collapse at the bottom; but we built up again rapidly, and at
length came the time when, standing upright, I was able to place my
fingers on the edge of the broken roof. It was a glorious moment, and I
could almost sniff the desert air outside. The thought of being once
more free sent a thrill through me, and I remembered a certain gymnastic
feat at which I had excelled when at school. It occurred to me that I
was confronted with the identical thing, the only difference being that
in place of having to pull myself up over the edge of, and on to, a
smooth wooden platform, I now had before me a rough, jagged edge of
brickwork. It was worth the attempt, and I tried it.

Firmly, with both hands, I gripped the edge, and slowly I let my weight
hang on my hands, when, horror of horrors, an immense portion of roof
broke off, and fell with a crash to the ground. At the same moment I
lost my balance, and though, fortunately, I kept my feet, my descent was
so unpremeditated that I brought down half our loosely-built structure
on my heels. Faris, standing at a little distance, could not make up his
mind whether to laugh or be angry. Of one thing, however, both of us now
became aware: it was improbable that the roof of the dome would support
our weight, so loosened had the materials composing it become by the
rough treatment it had received at the hands of the Shammar. Still,
there remained the fact that we had heard people walking about on it
with impunity, and this gave us hope; moreover, I had brought down such
a huge sheet of the roof, that it was now broken away in one part almost
to the wall that supported it. We soon made up our minds, therefore,
that our tower would have to be built over again, and closer in to the
side wall, so that, by breaking down another piece of the dome, we
should be able to climb out over the actual top of the wall. How we
laboured at the new tower! Hours passed before it had attained the
required height; but, at last we were able to again reach the edge of
the roof, when, with the greatest care, we pulled down the foot or two
that remained between it and the wall top. Then we added to the height
of our pile, until the happy moment came when the sheik, climbing slowly
upwards, was able to rest his elbows on the wall, and haul himself up. I
quickly followed; and there we two lay panting, and looking down with
joyous eyes on the surrounding ruins and the boundless desert in the
distance.

If I had had my way, I should have remained there for hours, and rested;
but Faris was on his feet in a few minutes, and urged me to hurry after
him, so that we might get to our horses, and start on our journey. When
I come to think of it now, after a lapse of many months, I am astonished
at the absurd confidence that we had, that we should find our horses
where we had left them. I myself never gave the matter a thought; and if
the sheik had any misgivings, he did not disclose them. As can be
imagined, therefore, when we reached the spot where the hobbled horses
had been left, and found that they had disappeared, our hearts sank. The
sheik examined the ground in all directions, and soon broke it to me
that the Shammar had carried off our horses; he was able to trace their
footprints among those of the Shammar horses; and they had added insult
to injury by breaking his spear in pieces and taking away the blade.

"I ought to have known that it would have been so," he said, almost in
despair. "The Shammar dogs have again made fools of us."

"Never mind," I said, trying to treat the matter lightly; "we must
walk."

"Walk!" he replied, derisively. "How think you we shall walk through
that waterless waste, when even to ride through it is courting death?"

"Perhaps," I suggested, "Sedjur, finding us gone so long, will come to
meet us."

"He may do so," said the sheik hopefully "In any case, we may as well
die in the desert, as among these infernal ruins. So, come, let us
walk."

I never in my life felt less inclined to start on a long tramp; and the
knowledge that we had no water and nothing to carry it in, and no better
food than a few dried dates, did not add to my spirits. However, I
pulled myself together, and stepped out behind Faris, whose swinging
pace was terrific. Towards sundown we approached the marsh through which
we had ridden two days before, and to our astonishment saw, on the far
side, a thin curl of smoke rising upwards.

"Sedjur to the rescue," I said.

The sheik smiled, and bade me remain where I was, while he went to
reconnoitre. On looking carefully, we could see that there were tents,
camels, horses, and a goodly number of men, and the spot which they had
selected for their encampment was close to the edge of the lake, a mile
or so from us. To approach them was easy, as the rushes of the marsh
grew almost up to the encampment. Divesting himself of his clothes, and
cutting some of the rushes, Faris quickly knotted them together in large
bunches, and tied them in wisps round his head and the upper part of his
body. Then he waded into deep water towards the edge of the rushes, and
concealing himself carefully, gradually worked his way round towards
the tents. As he said, there was little chance of our being noticed, as
no Bedouins would think of looking out for anyone on foot in such a
desolate and remote part of the desert.

I sat on a tuft of rush grass, and watched the waterfowl taking their
evening flight, hopeful that relief was not far off, and expecting each
moment to hear a wild shout of welcome from across the water. I thought
of the delight of finding George Edwards, Sedjur, and others, waiting to
receive us, with fresh horses, good food, and a comfortable tent in
which to sleep in peace for hours. So I dreamed on, and nearly fell off
to sleep, but no shout came. Then, in an hour or so, the sheik returned,
and shattered all my hopes. He had crept up close to the tents, and had
discovered that the party evidently consisted of some important
personages, probably proceeding, from some interior town, on a
pilgrimage to Meshed Ali, or returning home, with a strong escort of a
tribe, the men of which he was unable to identify.

"Suppose," I said, "we go boldly up to the encampment, tell the
strangers that we have lost our horses, and seek their hospitality. They
cannot refuse to befriend us."

"It would be worse than folly," said the sheik. "For all I know, they
may be my bitterest foes. Besides, they would never be taken in by your
disguise, and would suspect us at once."

"But," I argued, "I could tell them from the first that I was an
English traveller."

"No," said the sheik, "it would not do. The risk would be too great I
have a better plan. I observed how their horses were fastened to
pickets; and where their water-skins lay ready filled. When it is dark,
and they have gone to rest, we will take two of the horses and some
water-skins, and proceed on our journey."

I did not like his plan, and I told him so.

"If we are caught," I said, "they will give us what we deserve as
horse-thieves."

"Inshallah!" he replied; "what matter? As good a death as starvation,
and, at any rate, a quicker one. But, if you will follow my
instructions, we shall not be caught."

"All right," I unwillingly acquiesced, "I will do whatever you wish."

We waited for a couple of hours, and then moved through the rushes in
the direction of the encampment. The moon was in the first quarter, and
gave us a little light, thus enabling us, when we approached the tents,
to see how things were situated. The sheik pointed out to me the
position of the water-skins, and two outlying horses which he had
decided that we should seize. We were now in the lake itself, standing
almost up to our necks in water, and not more than ten yards from the
bank. About a hundred yards to our right front were the tents; between
us and them, lying on the edge of the lake, were the filled water-skins;
while fifty yards or so to our left front stood the two horses. Faris
now gave me my orders. I was to wade straight to the water-skins, secure
two of them, and make my way as stealthily as possible to the horses;
while he himself cut them loose, and waited for me.

I at once started to carry out my instructions; reached the water-skins,
but was appalled by their weight. I was afraid to stand up and carry
them in the ordinary way; to crawl on the ground with a bulky skin in
each hand was out of the question. Fortunately, however, I had always
possessed a certain amount of ready resource, and I quickly took out my
knife, ripped my saturated cloak into strips, with which I secured a
skin loosely to either side of my waist. Then I began to crawl towards
the horses, and a toilsome operation it was; but it was successfully
accomplished, and in far less time than I had expected. Faris, too, had
played his part, and not only had he freed the horses, but he had
managed, moreover, to find saddles for them.

"Quick," he said, seizing the two water-skins and flinging them across
his saddle, "mount and away."

I required no second bidding, and I followed my fellow-robber, as he
forged ahead into the sandy desert skirting the lake. Hour after hour,
through the night did we keep going, and when, soon after dawn, the
sheik pulled up among some low sand-hills, and dismounted, we had put
many miles between ourselves and the former owners of our horses. Faris
was in better spirits than I had ever known him to be; he appeared to
have forgotten all our strange adventures, and to be living only in the
present--a free man in a free land; but even he, inured to endless
hardships, I soon discovered, was suffering from exhaustion. I inwardly
rejoiced when I observed it, for I myself was completely done up. All
our garments were wet through, and most of them in a filthy condition of
slimy mud; so we agreed unanimously that it would be quite safe to rest
for a time; and, taking off our clothes, we spread them out in the sun
to dry.

We hobbled the horses, partook of a few hard dates and a mouthful of
water, and, stark naked, lay down on the slope of a hummocky sand-billow
to rest our wearied limbs. How delightful was the warmth of the sun to
my damp body! But how miserably tired and sleepy I felt!

"A little sleep, sheik," I said, "would be a good thing."

He made no reply, and looking at him, I found that he had forestalled my
suggestion, and was already breathing heavily. I roused myself to a
sense of duty; both of us must not sleep at the same time; I would watch
while he slept; and then my turn would come. I began to wonder how long
it would be before he woke up. I wondered why people wanted to sleep,
and I remember that I found it most difficult to find a solution for the
problem--so many things kept crowding into the argument. I was annoyed
with myself for not being able to work it out successfully; and then,
somehow or another, all my good intentions must have faded away, and
unwittingly I must have dropped off to sleep.




CHAPTER XI.

ONLY HALF A CAPTURE.


I awoke suddenly with a start. People were talking. I rubbed my eyes and
looked. Was I dreaming, I wondered; for, within a couple of yards of me,
I saw Sedjur and George Edwards in Arab dress, sitting on their horses
and talking to the sheik. I jumped up to greet them, but I grew dizzy
and sank back again. Edwards dismounted and ran across to me.

"What is the matter, old man?" he asked, taking my hand.

"I am a bit done," I replied.

"You are in for a bout of fever," he said, "and no wonder, from what I
have just heard from the sheik. But we will soon put you to rights. You
have been lying out in the sun here for some time, I expect, judging by
the blisters on your body. You had better get into your clothes again,
and have another snooze."

I struggled into my dirty garments as best I could, and wished that I
had something cleaner to put on, but I had hardly finished dressing
before Faris and Sedjur rushed up to us in a state of excitement,
telling us that they could see a party of horsemen galloping towards us
from the direction of the lake.

"They have followed our tracks," said the sheik to me, "and hope to
recover their horses. We must get away at once."

I looked over the sand-hill nearest to me and could just make out a
small black mass some miles away. I got up and moved towards my horse,
but I was too feeble to mount.

"I cannot manage it, George," I said, "I shall stop here, wait till they
arrive, and give myself up. You clear off with the others--I shall be
all right."

"Likely!" replied Edwards, indignantly.

Faris, seeing that something serious was the matter, came back to us,
and asked why we were not hurrying.

"We are not coming," said Edwards; "he is too ill. You and Sedjur escape
while you have time."

"No," replied the sheik, "we will stand here and fight."

But Edwards and I besought him to go, and at last he consented.

"We should have no chance against them," he said; "they are ten to one.
But Sedjur shall take their horse, and leave you his, when they will
find that you two have your own horses, and are not the thieves that
they are after."

A hasty word of parting, and our two Bedouin friends were in the saddle
and away. For some reason, they did not take the direct route by which
Faris and I had ridden a few days before, and which Edwards and Sedjur
had followed, but struck off, half right, towards a low ridge. The
country was undulating, and, to our relief, in a few seconds we saw them
disappear from view. Then Edwards looked over our sand-hill, and told me
to prepare myself, as the band of horsemen were approaching; and in
another minute we were surrounded by some forty wild-looking Arabs,
armed with matchlocks and spears. I fully imagined that they would
finish us off, without inquiry; but the chief of the party motioned to
his men to stand back, and advanced towards us. Edwards stood up, and
greeted him.

"Where are our horses?" demanded the chief.

"Horses," said Edwards, "you appear to have many."

"I speak," said the Bedouin, frowning, "of the two that you stole from
us in the night."

"I have stolen no horses at any time from any man," replied Edwards,
with considerable force. "I and my friend here, who is sick with fever,
are Englishmen, travelling in the desert. We have only our own horses,
as you can see."

The chief and his followers looked perplexed, and not a little surprised
at the sight of two foreigners. A long consultation then took place,
after which the chief, regarding us with evident suspicion, addressed us
again.

"See, now, Ingleezee," he said, "last night two horses were stolen from
our camp. We have followed their footprints up to this point; and here
we find you, but with two other horses. We do not believe that even you
are able to change a horse's skin and shape. Tell me, from which
direction did you ride hither?"

Edwards pointed out the direction.

"I believe it," said the Arab, "for the hoof marks which brought us here
are certainly not those of your horses. Answer me yet again, did you
meet any Bedouins as you rode hither?"

"Not a soul," replied Edwards, equivocating perhaps, but nevertheless
speaking the truth.

While this cross-examination was going on, some of the party were
casting round and looking at the horses' footprints on the ground. I
soon saw that they were on the right scent, and one of them shouted to
the chief that he had found the marks of their two stolen horses. This
caused tremendous excitement, and a dozen horsemen were sent off in
pursuit, while the chief and the remainder looked after us. Then came
another surprise, when someone discovered that, besides the hoof marks
of our own two horses, there were also the marks of two other horses,
though apparently two or three days older, but all coming from the same
direction.

"What abominably cunning brutes they are," I said to Edwards.

"Yes," said he, "they will worm it all out of us before they have done.
But they will have their work cut out if they mean to overtake the
sheik and Sedjur, with the good half-hour's start that they had."

We could see that this new discovery had upset their calculations
considerably, and presently the chief informed us that, though he did
not now suspect us of being implicated in the theft of the horses, we
must accompany him to the camp, in order that we should be properly
examined by his lord and master, the Governor of Adiba. Ill as I was, I
was compelled to mount my horse and ride with the party. As we started,
we found that two or three men had taken up the tracks left by the
horses which Faris and I had ridden on our journey to the seer. They had
not come across them on their way from the camp, as they lay a
considerable distance to one side, since Faris had taken a straight line
to the margin of the swamp, and the spot from which we had stolen the
horses was a mile or more to the east of it.

We appeared to have hoodwinked the party most successfully, and the
chief discussed the situation with us quite affably. His views were
fairly reasonable, and he was convinced that he had fathomed the mystery
up to a certain point. He imagined that, two or three days before, two
horsemen had passed through the gap in the sand-hills, and had proceeded
to a point at the southern end of the lake. The footprints, he affirmed,
were not those of our horses, and our horses had evidently never gone
beyond the gap; neither had the other horses ever returned from the lake
to the gap. The men who had stolen the horses might have been those
whose horses' tracks were now being followed towards the lake; but what
he could not understand was why they should have discarded their own
horses and stolen the others.

"Of course," he said, "there may be no connection whatever between the
two horsemen and the thieves, and that matter is of no real consequence.
We know where the scoundrels have gone, and our men will doubtless
catch them. Who they are is immaterial--so long as they suffer the
penalty of their crime."

The only point of doubt seemed to be whether we were or were not in
league with the robbers, and that, the Arab said, was for his master,
the Governor, to decide. He himself felt certain of our innocence, and
thought it probable that the thieves had passed through the gap and
disappeared before we had reached it from the opposite direction.

Eventually we came within sight of the encampment, and, from the
excitement that prevailed, it was apparently thought that the thieves
had been caught. Bitter was the disappointment when it was learned that
the stolen horses had not been recovered; and the Governor, who stood
waiting for us outside his large tent, vented his wrath on his
unfortunate captain before the latter could offer an explanation. When,
however, he had heard what the chief of the escort had to relate, the
great man changed his tone and ordered us to be taken away to a tent and
looked after, until such time as the two absent parties should return
and give an account of themselves. As it proved, the ride had not done
me much harm; I was wretchedly weak, but the fever had passed off, and I
was able to eat heartily of the supper which our friend the chief
provided for us. After my diet of dried dates, the steaming dish placed
before us was a positive feast, and neither before nor since have I ever
partaken of a meal with greater relish.

How Edwards and I talked that night! I had to tell him all my
adventures, and answer a thousand questions; but, all through, I had the
feeling that he thought I was romancing, and he politely but firmly
refused to believe that I had really seen the Golden Girdle.

"I am afraid, my dear boy," he said, "that was hallucination, produced
by your old friend's intoxicating perfumes."

"All right," I replied, almost angrily, "you need not believe it unless
you like; but if we ever meet old Faris again, we will get him to give
his version."

"I wonder," said Edwards, changing the conversation, "how we shall get
out of this hole. It seems to me that ever since we left Baghdad, we
have been in a perpetual state of jumping out of the frying-pan into the
fire. However," he concluded philosophically, "they say that everything
has an end, and I trust that our end may be peace."

At an early hour next morning, the captain of the escort paid us a
visit, and brought us food. We discovered that he considered himself our
host, and he chatted with us in a most friendly way. He told us that
both parties of horsemen had returned; that those who had tracked the
two horses to the lake had come in early in the night, with the
information that the horses had passed through the swamp and had gone
straight on, so they had given up the search as not likely to lead to
any result. The other party, he said, after a fruitless pursuit of the
missing horses, had just come back. They stated that they had seen the
two thieves riding in the far distance, but all hope of overtaking them
had gone, and, their horses being exhausted, they had been forced to
abandon the chase. The Governor was very angry, because the stolen
horses were his own property, and what attitude he would adopt towards
ourselves was extremely doubtful. But this before long we would discover
for ourselves, as he had given orders that we should be brought before
him in an hour's time.

"For my own part," added our friend, "I think he will order you to
proceed with him to Adiba. If you cannot satisfy him as to your
innocence, he will probably take your horses from you. But he will be
afraid to keep you at Adiba for any length of time; doubtless he will
give you asses and tell you to depart to Baghdad."

Our interview passed off much more satisfactorily than we had
anticipated. Ali Khan, the governor, asked us endless questions as to
who we were, where we had been, and where we were going, and finally
gave his opinion that we knew nothing about the theft of the horses. He
upbraided us for our folly in wandering about the desert without an
escort, and he told us that we should remain as his guests until he
reached his home, when he would endeavour to send us with some caravan
to a place from which we should be able to return to Baghdad in safety.
We thanked him profusely, and, afraid of showing any disinclination to
accompany him, we agreed to accept his offer. We were soon on very good
terms with our new host, and, in the course of the conversation that
followed, I told him that Edwards was a great doctor.

"If that be so," said the Governor, turning to Edwards, "when we reach
Adiba, you shall try your skill on my small son, whom none of my own
doctors are able to cure."

"That will I certainly," replied Edwards enthusiastically.

"Good," said the Governor, "and should you want for anything, ask for
it, and it shall be yours. We shall proceed on our journey in the
morning, and, if it please Allah, in about two weeks from now shall be
in the town."

Edwards and I were overjoyed at our good fortune, for it seemed to us
that we were going to make a most interesting expedition under the most
favourable circumstances, and when we returned to our tent we solemnly
shook hands and congratulated ourselves.

"We shall be back in Baghdad in no time," said Edwards. "I have already
overstayed my leave, but I daresay, when I turn up safe and sound, the
Consul-General will understand, and will put matters right."

"You do not mean to say," said I, "that you propose rushing back to
Baghdad?"

"As straight as a die," said he, "and jolly glad I shall be to get
there."

"But what about our old friends, the sheik and Sedjur?" I asked.

"Oh," said he, "I can find out what happened to them when I get back to
Baghdad. You surely do not suggest that we should continue to fool about
in the desert any longer?"

"My dear boy," I said, "you can think of nothing but that wretched leave
of yours. Do, for goodness' sake, forget it. You are overdue now, and if
you start from Adiba the day after you get there, you will be weeks
late. In all probability, the authorities have killed us, buried us, and
put up memorial tablets to us by now. Much better let them go on
grieving a bit longer."

Edwards looked at me and laughed.

"You are the most extraordinary person that I have ever come across,"
said he. "Here you are, a perfect wreck, and looking as if you had seen
a hundred ghosts in the last few days; yet you do not seem at all
anxious to get back to an ordinary life of peace and comfort."

"You do not understand," I argued. "You have not been inspired by the
sight of the glittering serpents. Think, George, what it would be to get
hold of it, and ride into Baghdad with it!"

"It would be tolerably nice," he replied, "to ride into Baghdad even
without it. Honestly, I do not much care which it is. I waive all claim
to carrying the Golden Girdle."

"What a scoffer you are," I said. "You do not really believe in its
existence. For my part, I should not be a bit surprised if at this very
moment it was in the Jelas camp. Faris is as keen about it as I am, and
he would not waste any time in preparing for his raid on the Shammar. I
agree that we must go to Adiba now, but as soon as we leave the place,
we will make straight for our old quarters, see what the sheik has been
about, and find out if he has heard anything of the girdle."

"All right," said Edwards, "I will see you through the business. You
shall have your way, and I will stick to you. But I beg of you not to
let me in for adventures such as you and Faris have just been indulging
in. My feeble brain would not stand that sort of thing."

During the journey of the succeeding fortnight or more, we made friends
with all the members of the caravan, and George Edwards covered himself
with glory by looking after the ailments of the party. Fortunately, no
one had attempted to rifle his saddle-bags, and, when starting with
Sedjur on the ride to meet me, he had taken the precaution to bring with
him his travelling medicine-case and instruments. It was an uneventful
ride, through a barren and ugly country, and glad were we when, at last,
we came in sight of the walls of Adiba, and saw a body of horsemen
issuing out to greet their Governor.




CHAPTER XII.

RIVAL DOCTORS.


Our entry into Adiba much resembled the procession in the Lord Mayor's
Show. There were trumpeters and drummers, camelmen armed with
matchlocks, horsemen with spears, and foot soldiers carrying bludgeons,
knives, and a variety of weapons. Crowds of people lined the principal
thoroughfare, leading from the gateway by which we had entered to the
palace of the Governor--for it was dignified by the name of palace,
though in reality it was by no means a sumptuous dwelling. Edwards and I
rode on either side of the great man, and our presence created a
considerable amount of interest, since the news had already spread that
we were Englishmen, and that one of us was a famous doctor. Yet, I
noticed that there were faces in the crowd that did not look on us with
favour, which, as I said to myself, was only natural in a country
hitherto practically forbidden to Europeans.

A separate apartment in the palace was allotted to us, and we were made
thoroughly comfortable, the floor being spread with rich Persian carpets
and hung with silken draperies; but the most delightful part of our
quarters was the flat roof, up to which a flight of steps led from the
corner of the room. The palace itself abutted on the fortified wall of
the town, and our room and roof-top formed a kind of bastion, surmounted
by a low parapet with loopholes. It had the advantage of seclusion,
since it was a little higher than the other buildings of the town; and
on the roof, during our stay in Adiba, we slept at night and enjoyed the
cool hours of the day.

Hardly had we settled down than Edwards was summoned to visit the sick
child, and as, during our march, I had always assisted him in his
medical duties, I went with him. We were conducted, through several
apartments, to the women's quarters, where we found Ali Khan and his
chief wife, sitting by the side of a frail boy of about twelve years of
age. The mother was weeping bitterly, and begged us to do what we could
to save the life of her only son. Three grave-looking and aged native
physicians were also present, and were evidently none too well-pleased
at our interference, one of them even going so far as to remonstrate
with the Governor for having called in a foreigner and an unbeliever, an
act which he pronounced to be equivalent to lack of faith.

"By the will of Allah," he said, "the child is sick; by the will of
Allah, he will either live or die."

[Illustration "'BY THE WILL OF ALLAH,' HE SAID, 'THE CHILD IS SICK'"]

"You speak with wisdom, O Sea of Learning," said Edwards quietly, "but
does the Prophet anywhere forbid the use of medicines for the relief of
a sufferer? If so, how comes it that you yourself practise medicine?"

"I and my brethren," replied the other, with an obvious sneer, "are of
the True Faith, and though we may possess as great a knowledge of the
art of healing as even yourself, we do not take to ourselves any credit
for our cures. They are effected through Allah alone. The works of
infidels----"

"Enough," shouted the Governor, cutting him short; "this is no place or
time for wrangling. These are my guests, and must be treated with due
respect."

Edwards's rival bit his lip with rage at the rebuke, and with a sullen
gaze watched the "unbeliever" examining the little patient. This did not
take long, and after offering some consoling words to the parents,
Edwards said he would go and prepare some medicines for their child,
adding that, if his instructions were properly carried out, he saw no
reason why he should not eventually recover. The Governor and his wife
were overjoyed at the news, but the old Arab doctor merely shrugged his
shoulders, and remarked "if it be the will of Allah."

"Well, what is the matter with the poor little chap?" I asked, as we
walked back to our room.

"He is pretty bad," said Edwards. "High fever. Been hideously neglected,
I should say. I shall try antipyrine, and then pile in quinine for all I
am worth."

"Those old native impostors mean to be nasty," I said. "The chief
villain would cut your throat as soon as look at you."

"I believe he would," said Edwards, laughing, "and display very little
surgical skill in the operation."

The medicine was soon prepared, and sent off by a servant, with
injunctions that he was to deliver it into the hands of the Governor or
his wife, and that it was to be administered at once. A little later, we
repaired to the Guest Hall, where a feast was to be given in our honour,
and where we were introduced to all the notables of the town. It was a
magnificent entertainment, and there was no lack of food, the principal
dishes consisting of camel's flesh, and sheep roasted whole. The Arab
physicians were there, and it seemed to me that they went out of their
way to make themselves affable, so I imagined that they had got over
their scruples concerning the infidel practitioner. Our old friend
Haroun, the captain of the Governor's escort, was also present, and he
told us that he was leaving Adiba in a few days, as he had to take his
men off on another expedition. Until then, we had thought that he and
his men were in the permanent service of Ali Khan, but now we gathered
that he was more or less of a free lance, and that he hired out himself
and his horsemen for the protection of caravans wishing to cross the
desert.

The supper passed off pleasantly enough, and the guests eventually
dispersed, when, expressing many good wishes for the speedy recovery of
his son, we took leave of our host, and, accompanied by Haroun, made our
way to our room. At the door we found two of Haroun's men armed with
naked swords; and, on inquiring why they were there, we were informed
that the Governor had given orders for them to be posted, to prevent
anyone entering our apartment. Haroun came in with us, and closing the
door behind him, said that he wished to have a word with us in private.

"Before long," he said, in a low voice, "you will desire to return to
Baghdad. Indeed the Governor dare not detain you here for any length of
time; for the news of your presence in the town will soon reach Majma
and Hayil, when the Governor will receive peremptory orders to send you
on your journey. The Amir of Hayil will not permit foreigners to sojourn
in Nejd; but, since he finds it to his advantage to keep on good terms
with the Turks, he will be afraid to lay violent hands on two Europeans.
Otherwise, so far as he himself is concerned, he would not hesitate to
have you put to death. Now, I myself make a living by safe-guarding
travellers in the desert; moreover, it is my desire to visit Baghdad,
where not only have I many friends, but also a brother who is a merchant
in the bazaar. For the protection afforded by my horsemen I will charge
but a small sum--only just sufficient for their maintenance. What say
you?"

"What can we say," I replied, "except that to journey with you would be
a great joy to us. But you told us a little while ago that you were
shortly leaving Adiba on other business."

"True," said Haroun, smiling, "but when I spoke I was counting on being
employed by yourselves. Shall we, then, fix a day for your departure?"

"That is hardly possible," said Edwards, "for I have undertaken to treat
the sick child of our good host, as a return for his kindness to us,
and it may be many days before he recovers; it may, indeed, be many
weeks."

"And you would remain here for so long?" asked Haroun.

"If the Governor wishes," said Edwards.

"But he will not wish it," said Haroun; "for, before the child can be
restored to health, Hayil will have ordered Majma to march against Adiba
and destroy it, for harbouring foreigners. The fear of Hayil is great."

"Well," said I, "if you will give us a day or two to see how events turn
out, we shall be able to decide as to the future."

"The future," said Haroun, with a sigh, "is known only to Allah. I
shall, however, remain here, in Adiba, for a space, in the hope of
journeying with you to Baghdad. But I would warn you that there are some
who, even now, are desirous of your speedy departure from the town."

The next few days were full of interest, as well as of a certain amount
of excitement. Both Ali Khan and Haroun were keen sportsmen, and each
morning we rode out with the former's hawks in search of gazelles, which
gave us some glorious gallops. We had also a lion hunt--not in the
programme, but forced upon us while hawking, and the memorable occasion
gave us an insight into the characters of our two Arab friends, at whose
dauntless courage Edwards and I were simply astounded. We were riding
home after a successful morning, when we saw a shepherd running across
the plain towards us and gesticulating wildly. He told us that a lion
had for some time played havoc with his flocks, and that he had just
marked him down into some thick bushes at a little distance. We all went
off at once, and Ali Khan, stationing the matchlock-men who accompanied
him round the beast's lair, ordered other men to throw stones into the
bushes, with the intention of driving the lion out. To everyone's
astonishment, this had the desired effect almost at once. There was a
loud roar, and, without any further warning, out bounded the great
brute, who knocked over one of the matchlock-men before a shot was
fired. Edwards and I, sitting on our horses a little way off,
instinctively pressed towards the lion, now standing defiantly over the
fallen man; but, before we reached the spot, we saw both Haroun and Ali
Khan simultaneously leap from their saddles and rush in. They were armed
only with the daggers which they had drawn from their waists, yet they
never hesitated until close up to the beast, when, to our surprise and
no little amusement, they stopped and addressed it in the most flowing
language.

"O lion," said the one, "do not waste thy strength on so feeble a man as
that."

"O king," said the other, "thy victim is an unworthy meal for thy royal
jaws. Try something of more noble blood."

Then with one accord they attacked their enemy in the most reckless
manner with their knives, and several men with spears coming up, the
lion was soon dispatched, when it was found that the matchlock-man had
received only a few scratches, though suffering from a severe shock to
his nerves. Many were the tales which we subsequently heard of the
daring of our two friends on similar occasions, and no one could say
which of them had slain single-handed the greater number of lions.

Such recreations as these, however, occupied only a fraction of our
time, and the remainder was decidedly dull, or if not dull, then full of
anxiety. Edwards soon discovered that his skill as a doctor was being
put to the test, for the days passed, and his patient seemed to make no
headway.

"Do you suppose," I asked him at last, "that they have been giving him
your medicine properly?"

"That is just what I have been wondering," he replied. "I do not believe
that they have. But I cannot imagine how Ali Khan and his wife, who are
both devoted to the child, would fail to do what I told them. However, I
will make certain about it, by going straight to the Governor and asking
him."

So Edwards went off, and, in the course of half an hour or so, returned,
with a face almost livid with rage. He did not wait for me to ask him
questions, but relieved his mind forthwith.

"Could you possibly conceive," he blurted out, "that the world could
contain such a pack of bigoted idiots? The poor wretched little beggar
is weaker than ever, and had not been given any of the things that I
prescribed. I only discovered it by the merest accident. When I got to
the room, I found one of the waiting-women watching over the sick child,
and she told me that his mother, worn out with grief, had gone to her
chamber to rest, while Ali Khan was busy administering justice in his
hall. I seized the opportunity, and tackled the woman about the
medicine. At first she pretended that she had never heard that I had
supplied any medicine; but after I had reassured her by swearing that I
would respect her confidences, and worked on her fears by telling her
that if the boy died she would undoubtedly be held responsible for his
death, and would probably frizzle in Gehennum, the old lady found her
tongue. Bit by bit I dragged from her the whole miserable story. It
seems that when my first draught was delivered at the sick-room, those
abominable old native doctors were all there, and they harangued the
Governor for his folly in consulting an infidel, about whom he knew
nothing, and whose medicines might be, and probably were, poisons. High
words followed, but in the end Ali Khan agreed that he would abide by
the decision of the mulla, who was immediately sent for. Perhaps you
have never seen a mulla playing the oracle. It is quite simple: he shuts
his eyes, opens the Koran, plumps his finger on to a line, and then
reads it out. Well, in this case, of course, the mulla said that the
Koran decreed that my medicine would be most harmful to the child, and
it was accordingly thrown away. The same thing has been happening every
day since, and the only medicine given to the poor little chap has been
some water swilled round a cup inside which the mulla has scribbled a
text. Is it not positively sickening?"

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I have done it," he replied, with a chuckle. "I saw that it was neck or
nothing, and fortunately I had taken some antipyrine with me. I made the
woman fetch the cup with the text inside, and I told her that I was a
bigger mulla than any mulla she had ever seen, and that I possessed the
Evil Eye, which I would cast on her and her relations for ever and ever,
if she disclosed a word of what I had said, or even mentioned that I had
been there. She was what they call 'all of a tremble,' and I gave the
child as strong a dose as I dared--antipyrine, Koran text, and all."

"Well done, old man," said I, slapping him on the back.

"It may be all right," said Edwards, "but it may not be. I am not very
sanguine, for I am half afraid it was too late. However, we shall know
to-night."

When we went down to the sick-room before going to bed that night, we
found the Governor, his wife, and the Arab doctors in a state of
ecstasy. The child was in what Edwards described as a "beautiful
perspiration," and we were naturally overjoyed. Then the principal
native doctor stepped forward and addressed Edwards.

"We have to confess to you," he said, "that none of your remedies have
been applied to the patient, as the mulla, whom the Governor consulted,
decided that they would be harmful to him. By the will of Allah, I and
my learned brethren have been able to ease the child's sufferings."

I looked at my companion, whose face was ashy white, but who kept
himself under perfect control. Addressing the Governor quietly, he told
him that he thought it would be injurious to the health of his son if
any further discussion took place in the sick-room, and he begged that
he would permit us to adjourn to another apartment, as he wished to make
a disclosure to him in the presence of the Arab physicians. The Governor
agreed to the proposal, and, bidding the doctors and ourselves follow
him, led the way to his private audience hall.

"What is it, my friend," he asked, "that you wish to say?"

"Great Lord of the Arabs and Protector of the Poor," said Edwards,
standing forth boldly, "it is most unpleasant for me, who have received
the greatest hospitality at your hands, to lay a complaint against the
members of your household. But I would beg of you to bear in mind that I
have only at heart the welfare of your sick child, and that anything I
say is solely for his good. You yourself did me the honour to place
confidence in me and seek my advice; yet, when I gave that advice, you
pretended to be satisfied with it, but, unbeknown to me, you rejected
it, because your mulla, who is in league with your court physicians,
pretended that your sacred book forbade the application of my remedies."

I trembled at Edwards's temerity, and the Arabs looked at Ali Khan as if
they expected him to rise in his wrath and destroy us both, but our host
merely bowed his head and told Edwards to proceed, which he did with
increased warmth.

"I am aware," he continued, "that I am not of your Faith, but I hold to
as great a belief in the powers of Allah as do yourselves. I maintain,
however, that although I am younger than the youngest of your
physicians, I have had far greater experience in the treatment of
diseases than he or any of his brethren. From the first I prescribed
such medicines as I considered likely to benefit the patient. You
yourself know that those medicines were thrown away. I knew it for
certain some few hours ago, though I had suspected it earlier. I only
discovered the truth on visiting the patient when he was alone this
afternoon. Then I understood that he had never been given my medicines,
and, in your absence, I took it upon myself to administer at once a
strong dose, the result of which is now apparent."

"Sire," broke in the chief physician excitedly, "believe not a word that
he says. He is seeking to misappropriate to himself the good that your
own physicians have accomplished. What proof is there that the child had
any of his medicines?"

"One person," said Edwards, "was present, and saw everything. It was the
waiting-woman, Habisha, but I made her swear to reveal what she saw to
no one."

The Arab doctors, evidently still believing that they had treated the
child successfully, openly derided Edwards's assertion, and Ali Khan,
wavering between loyalty to his own men and politeness to his guest,
thought to settle the matter by interviewing the waiting-woman. Edwards
at once realised the difficulty, for it was improbable that the woman,
with the foreigner's Evil Eye in her mind, would disclose anything; so
he volunteered to accompany the Governor, in order that the woman might
be assured that she could now speak. The quarter of an hour that the two
were absent was an uncomfortable one for me, left alone with the
physicians; but, to my relief, they ignored my presence, and conversed
amongst themselves.

The expression on Edwards's face, on his return, conveyed to me plainly
that all had gone well; and a moment later Ali Khan told the Arabs that
he had convinced himself that what his guest had said was true, that he
had actually administered a dose to his son, but that fortunately it had
been given in the cup which was inscribed with a text from the Koran.
Ali Khan now assumed a judicial air, as if pronouncing judgment in his
hall of justice, and he said that, after due consideration, he had come
to the conclusion that, although the foreigner had acted wrongfully in
secretly administering the medicine, nevertheless he had been requested
to treat the child, and that having once given the child his medicines,
it would be most dangerous to alter the course which had been commenced.
He therefore decreed that the foreigner should continue to treat his
son, and that his own wise and worthy physicians should refrain from
visiting the sick-room, until such time as he should invite them. I
could see that the decision was a terrible and an unexpected blow to the
Arab gentlemen, but they bowed politely to their master, asked
permission to retire, and pompously sailed from the room.

No sooner were we alone than Ali Khan, throwing off all reserve, seized
Edwards by the hand, thanked him fervently for what he had done, and
apologised for his own weakness in allowing himself to be influenced by
his doctors. Henceforward, he said, Edwards should have sole charge of
the sick boy, and he begged him to forget the past and to do all that
lay in his power to bring about his recovery. Edwards, of course, agreed
to do his best, on the condition that he was not interfered with in any
way, and he returned to his patient, with whom he now decided to spend
the night.

The next week was a most anxious one. Edwards almost lived in the
sick-room, being unwilling to risk the chance of some busybody undoing
all his work. The child had ups and downs, but by the end of the week he
was pronounced to be out of danger, and after that he regained his
strength so rapidly, that before many days Edwards was able to hand him
over to his parents to be taken care of. Their gratitude is
indescribable; there was nothing that they would not have done for us.
Ali Khan offered us horses, permanent quarters in the palace, and many
other things, all of which we politely declined, Edwards assuring him
that he had done nothing more than that which was due from a guest to
his host.

All this while, we were surprised that the Arab doctors never put in an
appearance, but we came to the conclusion that they were nettled by
Edwards's success, and so kept out of the way. That they had lost their
practice in the town soon became evident, as the gates of the palace
were besieged each day by sick people, begging for the advice of the
all-powerful foreign doctor. For some time Edwards did his best for
them, but at last he grew weary of the increasing labours thus thrust
upon him, and asked our host where his own physicians were. Ali Khan,
with some hesitation, then confessed that they had left the town, and
had gone off in high dudgeon, he knew not whither.

"But," he added, "while you are my doctor, I care not how long the
others remain away."

That night, just as we were going to bed, we heard a knock at the door,
and Haroun, who was still in Adiba, entered the room. We at once became
aware, from the mysterious air that he assumed, that he was the bearer
of news of no ordinary importance.




CHAPTER XIII.

WAR'S ALARM.


"What is the matter, Haroun?" I asked, "you seem perturbed."

"And small wonder," he replied. "The Governor's spies, whom he sent to
discover the whereabouts of his physicians, have just returned, and have
brought grave tidings. They tracked the men to Majma and then to Hayil,
where they found that the ungrateful dogs had spread false reports about
affairs at Adiba, denouncing the Governor as an infidel and a companion
of infidels. The Amir, ever credulous, accepted their statements, and,
moreover, gave all three of them appointments in his household. Majma
was ordered to prepare for war against Adiba, and to assemble all its
fighting men, three days since, at a certain ford on the road to Hayil.
The spies remained in Hayil and watched the preparations, which the Amir
declared were for the purpose of suppressing the tribes dwelling in the
mountains to the south. But this they knew to be false, and they have
ridden day and night in order to warn their chief of the coming storm."

"What will the Governor do?" I asked.

"He will fight his old enemy of Majma to the death," said Haroun. "On
that point he is determined. Moreover, he has ever rebelled against the
authority of the Amir, and he is prepared now to defy him."

"Surely," said Edwards, "that will be the height of folly, when an
explanation would probably prevent bloodshed. We two Europeans are,
doubtless, the cause of all the trouble. Let the Governor publicly expel
us from the town, and secure its safety."

"That course," said Haroun, "he would never consent to take; but he has
ordered me to inform you privately of the events that are likely to
occur, and to request that you will save yourselves while there is yet
time. He does not wish you to risk your lives by remaining here, and
though he cannot spare my services at present, he will mount you on
swift camels and give you a guide, who will conduct you to Baghdad, or
at any rate as far as some place of safety in the neighbourhood of that
city."

Edwards and I discussed in English the situation as it presented itself
to us, and we each thought that our presence in Adiba was accountable
for all the unpleasantness; that if, therefore, we removed ourselves,
Ali Khan would patch up peace; and that in all probability he wished to
get rid of us, but was unwilling to appear inhospitable and ungrateful.

"If," I said, addressing Haroun, "we accept the Governor's suggestion,
will he then send an envoy and sue for peace?"

"No," was the reply, "whether you go or whether you remain, he will
defend the town, and he will perish in its defence rather than humble
himself before the Amir. You yourselves know that he is a man who, his
mind made up, cannot be talked over."

"Well," said Edwards, "we cannot decide off-hand what we will do.
Besides, we should like to discuss matters with the Governor himself.
When do you expect that the town will be attacked?"

"The army," replied Haroun, "must still be some seven days' march from
us, but the horsemen will ride swiftly, so as to intercept any
fugitives, and it is therefore advisable that you should get away as
soon as possible."

"Will you allow us the night to decide?" I asked.

"If it be your wish," he acquiesced; "but you should leave the town by
dusk to-morrow."

As soon as we were alone, Edwards began to pace the room in silence, and
continued to do so for some little time.

"You seem to be excited, George," said I, at last.

"You do not mind a bit," he replied. "In fact, as far as I can make out,
you positively revel in this frying-pan-fire existence of ours. What are
we going to do?"

"Why, stick it out, of course," said I, "and see the old man through his
fight. I expect the whole thing will be rather interesting, and when it
is all over we will begin to think of moving off."

"About time!" said Edwards. "I have had enough of this place, and should
like to see another--Baghdad, for choice. It is not much fun spending
all one's time prescribing for the rag-tag-and-bob-tail of Adiba, free,
gratis, and for nothing. But we may as well turn in now, and interview
the chief early in the morning. Perhaps the whole story of the impending
attack is a deeply-laid scheme to get rid of us, though when Ali Khan
told me to-day that I was his one and only physician, my heart
positively sank. I thought he was under the impression that I was going
to set up in Adiba, and remain with him for ever. I had intended
disabusing his mind to-morrow, and I certainly shall do so, if I get the
chance."

"You will not chuck him over until after the fight, will you?" I asked.

"No, I will play the game all right, though I cannot say that I am
desperately keen about it," was his answer.

Next morning, when we went to see our host, we found that he took a much
more serious view of the state of affairs than we had anticipated. He
evidently intended that it should be a fight _à outrance_. In vain did
we try to dissuade him. We even offered to ride off and surrender
ourselves to the Amir of Hayil, so as to stay the war; but he was
adamant itself. He said that he and his people were growing rusty for
want of a fight, and that our departure would make no difference.
Whatever happened, he would not rest until he had dipped his spear in
the blood of his old enemies. Seeing, therefore, that argument was
useless, we told him that we intended to remain his guests until he was
at peace once more with his neighbours, and that we were ready to assist
him in the defence of his town. He was greatly touched at our desire to
help him, though he expressed his unwillingness to allow us to run the
risk of losing our lives in a quarrel which was no concern of ours.

"The whole matter," said Edwards, "concerns us. Had we never come to
Adiba, there would have been no quarrel."

"And," replied Ali Khan, "my son would have surely died. That is enough.
Praise be to Allah that he sent you to me."

Our conversation was interrupted by Haroun, who came to consult about
the preparations for the defence of the town, and we accompanied the two
warriors on their inspection of the fortifications. Haroun, I soon saw,
had little idea of a passive defence, and placed no confidence in the
strength of the walls. He was a cavalry leader, pure and simple, and his
sole notion was to employ all available horsemen in attacking the enemy
as they advanced on the town. The Governor, on the other hand, was
sublimely satisfied with his walls of sun-baked bricks, and proposed
that when the enemy appeared, the gates should be barricaded and the
walls manned by the matchlock-men; then, when the assailants had
expended all their energies in attacking the walls, Haroun should issue
with his horsemen, and smite them with vigour. This, he concluded, was
the plan adopted by his father, half a century before, when Majma had
attacked the town; and so successfully did it work that barely a handful
of Majma's fighting men returned to their homes to tell the tale. The
only thing that appeared to trouble him was the fact that he had been
told that the Amir of Hayil possessed European weapons of war, presented
to him by the Turks, and he had heard that the big guns had been known
to knock down walls from distances beyond the range of his matchlocks.

It did not take me long to realise that, although I knew practically
nothing of war, Haroun and the Governor knew considerably less. Neither
of them had ever seen a field-gun or a rifle, and consequently they were
absolutely ignorant of the effect of such things. To enlighten them was
no easy matter, and for some time I was afraid that it would be
impossible to bring the situation home to them until the first shell
landed in the town. However, after much explanation, Ali Khan confessed
that he did not understand anything of the inhuman practices of which I
had told him; he and Haroun understood the honest warfare of the desert,
but to attempt to fathom the mean devices to which the Turks and their
adherents stooped was quite beyond them.

"Then," I said, "let us ride out unarmed to meet the Amir, and sue for
peace."

"Never," said Ali Khan, firmly, "never. I care nothing for their tricks
and stratagems. Our fate is already written down. On my side I have
right; Allah protects the righteous, and punishes the oppressors."

I did not try to persuade him that might, in the shape of modern guns,
was stronger than right; but I did all in my power to harrow his
feelings by describing what it would be like when the shells began to
burst in and over the town. I could see, however, that he did not
believe half I told him, and when we returned to the palace, he bade us
leave him to himself, to think out how it would be best to frustrate the
evil designs of his enemies. Edwards and I went off with the intention
of occupying ourselves in a similar manner.

"Our friends," said Edwards, "seem to be a trifle sanguine."

"Antediluvian asses I call them," said I. "But look here, George, if old
Hayil is bringing modern guns against this mud-heap, we are in for a
pretty warm time. If his people have learned how to serve the guns, the
place will be knocked to smithereens before we know where we are. If
they have rifles, then our ancient matchlock-men will never get a look
in."

"Surely something can be done to fortify the place," said Edwards. "They
do not expect to be attacked for another six days or more."

"Yes," said I, "if we can only get Haroun and Ali Khan to grasp the
situation, we might certainly work out some scheme of defence. I wish I
had not forgotten most of the things I learned at Sandhurst. I might
have run the whole show for them. Suppose we send for Haroun and hold a
council of war; he is more modern in his ideas than the Governor."

Accordingly, we sent a servant with an urgent request to Haroun to come
and see us, and then we began to talk. He was still absurdly obstinate
about the use of his horsemen, and he quite thought that his seventy
men, with the addition of some forty or fifty others which the town
could muster, were capable of ambuscading the hostile army before they
came near the town, and wiping it off the face of the earth. He had
fixed on the very spot where he would lay in ambush, and he scoffed at
the idea that it would be possible for his plan to fail. So convincing
was he in his arguments, that both Edwards and I began to think that
perhaps, after all, he was right, and that we were ignorant of the
methods of Arab warfare.

"Suppose," I said, "you do not succeed in all you propose. Suppose you
are defeated, or your retreat cut off. Then where would Adiba be? She
would have lost the services of a hundred trained fighting men, and who
would be left to repel the eventual attack on the town?"

"There are plenty of others for the purpose," said Haroun, "and the
defence of the town walls is no concern of mine. As you are aware, I and
my men have nothing to do with Adiba, and it is only my personal
friendship for the Governor that has induced me to espouse his cause. To
be honest, I am a child of the desert, and a friend of anyone who hires
me. The rôle of my men is to smite in the open, and not to sit down
behind the walls of a town--that is the duty of the town guard."

"I am beginning to understand," I said. "Hitherto I was under the
impression that the Governor regarded you as his sirdar."

"He himself is sirdar," was the reply, "and he has already ordered every
able-bodied man to be at his allotted post on the walls this afternoon,
so that he may inspect them in fighting array."

While we were talking, a messenger came to ask us to wait on the
Governor, who had assembled the chiefs of the various quarters of the
town in the Audience Hall. We went at once, and found rows of
respectable-looking old Arabs seated on the ground in front of the
Governor's daïs. With many of them we were already acquainted, and all
greeted us most cordially. The Governor then opened the discussion by
explaining that, as Europeans, his two guests were thoroughly acquainted
with the barbarous methods of European warfare, of which they themselves
were entirely ignorant. He had therefore decided to beg us to undertake
the defence of Adiba, and show them how to defeat their enemies. The
suggestion quite staggered me; for I knew what broken reeds the
unfortunate people were being forced to lean on. George Edwards, civil
surgeon, aged twenty-three, Walter Henderson, ex-Sandhurst cadet--and a
failure at that--aged twenty-one, suddenly appointed to the joint
command of all the forces of Adiba! But, knowing that it was a case of
the superiority of one-eyed men over the blind, we accepted the
responsibility without a blush, and we were soon bustled off to inspect
the fortifications and their defenders. Had it not been that we
considered the state of affairs as most serious, we should have laughed
at the whole thing as a huge joke. There were some rusty old guns and
mortars, which probably had remained loaded and undischarged for half a
century, and behind each loophole on the parapet squatted a
matchlock-man, in deadly earnest and intent on slaughter. But it was no
time for jesting, and, having seen all that there was to see, Edwards
and I had a long consultation with our host and Haroun. In the end we
two promised to think out a plan for defending the town, and lay it
before Ali Khan the next morning.

We now went off with note-book and pencil, and walked leisurely round
the whole extent of the walls, making notes and sketches at various
points, and carefully examining the surrounding country. The town was of
no great size, covering an area of barely half a square mile; and from
outside had the appearance of a square fort, situated in a slight
depression. The walls in most parts were some fifteen feet thick at the
base, and stood about twenty feet above the general level of the plain,
but were somewhat higher at the four angles, in one of which, as I have
said, was situated that portion of the palace given over to us. There
were four gateways, known as the Hayil, the Majma, the Bussorah, and the
Baghdad, and placed each in the centre of one of the side walls, our
quarters occupying the angle between the Hayil and the Baghdad gates.
From attacks by ordinary Arabs, armed with no better weapons than
matchlocks and spears, the place had nothing to fear, the walls being
unscalable, and the gateways being so planned as to be capable of great
resistance. Against modern arms of precision it would stand no chance
whatever, unless strenuous efforts were made to provide some sort of
cover for the defenders, as well as for the women and children.

All that night we sat up, with pencils and paper, working out our
scheme, which was simplicity itself. We decided that, as we might have
to withstand a siege of some duration, and as it would be quite
impossible to store sufficient fodder for horses and camels for more
than a few days, we would send Haroun, in command of all the horsemen
and camelmen, out of the place, with instructions to keep well away to
the north, and to watch his opportunity for dealing a blow at the enemy.
We thought it would be useless to tie him down to stringent orders,
since he knew more about the country and the methods of desert warfare
than we did. Moreover, we knew that he was an independent individual,
and would take his own line. With regard to the actual defence of the
town, there was no time to do more than provide shelters from the
bombardment which we anticipated. These we arranged to place close under
the walls which faced towards Hayil and Majma, and we went into all the
details of each portion of work, so that we might be able to tell the
Governor exactly how many men would be required for digging and
such-like operations at every point, and how long they should take to
complete the work. In order to have a good margin, we calculated to get
the defences finished within three days, after which, any time that
remained could be devoted to drilling the inhabitants to seek shelter
rapidly.

"There," said Edwards, standing up and stretching himself, "that is good
enough for them. I am quite anxious to see the result."

"So am I," said I. "Give me another cup of coffee, and then let us go up
on to the roof and watch the day break."




CHAPTER XIV.

THE BURST OF THE STORM.


Standing on the parapet of our bastion roof, Edwards and I gazed out
into the blackness which preceded dawn. Across the town, we saw
presently a pale glimmer in the eastern sky. Day was breaking. We
watched the light gradually spreading upwards; then, turning, we looked
westward, where the outline of a low range of hills, a little more than
a mile away, bounded the view. Each portion of that outline remains
engraven on my memory, although, since that day, I have never set eyes
on it.

The fitful light appeared to me to be continually altering the shapes of
the rounded hill-tops. Want of sleep, I imagined, had upset my powers of
vision; for the more I looked the more I became convinced that the
outline kept changing. Edwards also had noticed the phenomenon.

"It is an extraordinary thing," said he, "but those hills over there
look as if they were moving."

"Just what I was thinking," said I; "I did not like to mention it,
because I thought you would say that I had got the jumps."

"I tell you what it is," said Edwards, shading his eyes with both hands,
"there are people walking about up there. Look. Do you see them?"

Before I could reply, a bright flash shot out from the hill-side,
followed by a volume of smoke and then a loud report; and simultaneously
a weird shrieking noise rent the air. We saw the shell fall short of
the town by a hundred yards or more, and, exploding on impact with the
hard sand, send up a column of dust.

Never did sleeping town receive a ruder awakening; and Edwards and I,
rushing down to see what could be done, encountered Ali Khan hastening
to meet us.

"What is it that has happened?" he shouted.

"They have surprised the town," I answered, "and are shooting with their
foreign guns. We must prevent the people being seized with a panic. Send
messengers in all directions to warn everyone to seek cover close
beneath the western walls, or in their underground chambers, and wait
till the fire slackens. Order the matchlock-men to be prepared to hasten
to their posts as soon as the enemy advances to the attack; and despatch
Haroun, with the horsemen and those who fight on camels, immediately, by
the Bussorah gate, to ride round and attack any who come down from the
hills."

Ali Khan was calm and unruffled, issuing his orders rapidly, and
disdaining to notice our suggestion that there was still time for him to
hoist the white flag and submit. Then came a fearful moment, when a
shell, bursting in the principal street of the town, produced the panic
which we had hoped to allay. Wild shrieks and yells went up on all
sides, and the women and children and the majority of the men rushed
madly about in every direction. Edwards and I dashed into their midst,
and literally drove them in herds beneath the shelter of the wall. It
was then that we saw Haroun, marshalling his horsemen, ready to leave
the town; and his men, as they passed us, cursed us freely for belonging
to a people who had invented such diabolical instruments of warfare.
Haroun, however, forced them to restrain their feelings, otherwise their
spears would doubtless have made short work of us.

Seeing the horsemen and camelmen leaving the town the inhabitants
imagined that flight had been ordered, and soon long streams of
fugitives were pressing on the heels of Haroun's horses, through the
Bussorah gate, and out into the desert. But a small body of the enemy's
horsemen had already swept round to that side of the town, and was
menacing the fugitives, who, seeing their predicament, turned and fled
back to the gate. Haroun by this time was out in the open, and was soon
engaged with the hostile force. I had run across to the eastern wall to
order the Bussorah gate to be closed, and I had an excellent view of the
sharp little cavalry skirmish then in progress. I remember thinking at
the time what a picturesque sight it was, and I could hardly believe
that what I witnessed was real warfare. Now one side fled, and the other
pursued, their spears glittering in the sun, and their loose cloaks
flying in the wind. Now, opening out and circling widely, the pursued
turned and swiftly bore down on their pursuers, who, as if following the
rules of a game, allowed themselves to be chased. Again the positions of
the combatants were reversed; and it was not until I had watched the
evolutions for some little time that I became aware that each side was
manoeuvring for a purpose. Then I understood that Haroun was striving
to lure the enemy towards the spot where the men on the camels sat ready
to discharge their matchlocks; while the enemy appeared to be
endeavouring to draw our horsemen towards the hills, behind which the
whole army was doubtless concealed.

As far as I could judge, in these preliminaries neither party was
particularly anxious to close with the other, but as both were equally
well mounted, and to all appearance equally skilled in the art of
manoeuvring, it may not have been possible for the one to overtake the
other. At length I observed that Haroun allowed himself to be drawn
farther and farther into the plain, until, after a while, the curious
struggle was being carried on midway between the town and the enemy's
guns. So far, the fire from the guns had done very little real damage. A
second shell had landed in the town very soon after the first one, but
the gunners husbanded their ammunition with care, only firing at long
intervals, and generally ranging short. This was a great relief, and
reassured the people, who had now got over their first alarm, and were
busily employed in throwing up retrenchments within the town. Edwards
had formed a hospital in the palace, and had the few people who had been
wounded carried in and attended to; while Ali Khan and I superintended
the work going on from positions on the parapets, whence we could also
watch the progress of the fight outside.

How many guns the enemy had in reserve we could not say, but so far he
had only brought three into action, and these soon found their fire
masked by the horsemen in their front. For some hours, therefore, the
guns remained silent, and it was quite evident that Haroun had grasped
the situation, and was holding his opponents to the ground which
intervened between the guns and the town. Hour after hour passed in this
way, but towards sundown we heard a mighty shout go up from the
direction of the hills, and before it died away we saw Haroun's foes in
full flight, with Haroun's men straining every nerve to outstrip them.
Fondly we hoped that our gallant friend's opportunity had come, and I
trembled with excitement as I watched the stern chase. Inch by inch our
men gained on the enemy, until they were almost within striking
distance, when suddenly, as we watched, we saw, to our horror, a fresh
body of horsemen issue from a gap in the hills by the side of the guns,
and descend with fury on Haroun's flank. At that very moment the
long-silent guns belched forth a salvo at the town, two of the three
shells falling among the houses, and causing hideous destruction, though
fortunately no casualties among the people. Concerned with the havoc
wrought by the shells, we lost sight of Haroun, and when we again
looked out on the plain, no trace of any horsemen was to be seen.

Satisfied with their work, the guns did not fire again that night; and
when darkness had set in, a messenger came from the Amir of Hayil,
offering terms to Adiba, but such terms as no self-respecting chief
could accept. The town was to surrender unconditionally; the Governor's
property to be confiscated and he himself deposed; his two European
guests to be handed over forthwith to the Amir; and all the horses and
camels to be given up. The Governor was to be allowed until daybreak to
accept or reject the terms; and if he refused to accept them, then at
sunrise all the Amir's guns would play on the town until it was levelled
to the ground, and no quarter would be given either to the Governor or
the inhabitants. The message concluded by stating that the Amir's force
consisted of no less than ten cannon and eight thousand soldiers. The
messenger did not wait for an answer, which was perhaps fortunate, as
Ali Khan was so incensed by the Amir's high-handedness, that his reply
probably would have been a most insulting one. As it was, he decided to
send no reply, and to occupy the night in the further strengthening of
the defences of the town.

While we were debating how best to continue the work, who should arrive
but Haroun, cool and collected, and even smiling, but dishevelled,
begrimed, and bloodstained. His long day of manoeuvring had been
entirely satisfactory, and in the end he had reaped a brilliant
victory--far more brilliant than he had ever dreamed of. There was no
time now, he said, to describe what had occurred, for he had come to
warn the Governor that the situation was critical, and that something
must be done at once; but he could tell us this much of his fight, that
not one of the enemy's horsemen whom we had seen pursuing him at dusk
was now alive.

"The name of Haroun," said the Governor, with emotion, "will be for ever
in the mouths of Adiba."

"Alas," said Haroun, "it is already too late. I have come to tell you
that your people are quitting the town. As I brought my men back, I
encountered hundreds of the townsmen in the desert, and though I did all
in my power to persuade them to return, they mocked at me, and continued
their flight in the direction of Bussorah. When, having left my men at a
little distance, I came to the Bussorah gate, I found it so densely
thronged with people passing through, that I was forced to obtain
entrance by the Baghdad gate."

Ali Khan, with a look of intense anger on his face, sprang to his feet,
and said that he would go and see for himself what was happening. We
followed him as he strode rapidly out of the palace, and the deserted
streets through which we passed soon confirmed what Haroun had told us.
Reaching the Bussorah gate, we were just in time to see the last of the
panic-stricken people crushing through. They were making no noise, and
were evidently in a condition of abject fear, intent only on escape from
the town. Ali Khan and Haroun, getting among the crowd, alternately
cursed them as cowards and cajoled them to return, but their threats and
their persuasions were of no avail. No mortal man could have stemmed the
tide, so great had proved the moral effect of a few shells on a people
ignorant of modern arms.

Between grief and rage at the disloyalty of his subjects, the Governor
was, for a time, completely overcome, and was only roused by a stern
rebuke from Haroun, whose courage never seemed to forsake him, and who
remained unmoved by what had occurred.

"We will go round," said Ali Khan, hopefully, "and see if our captains
and their men are not still at their posts. It may be that the fugitives
consist only of the women and children, and such of the men who are too
old to fight."

"I fear it is not so," said Haroun, "for I met many of the matchlock-men
on the road outside, and they told me that it was impossible for anyone
to stand another day of the accursed thunderbolts."

Ali Khan, however, was sanguine, and it was not until he had visited
several parts of the town, and found the whole place deserted, that he
abandoned all hope and returned to the palace. There the same thing met
us; the panic had spread during our short absence, even to the servants
of the household and the wounded in the hospital; so that there remained
with the Governor's wife and child only one faithful man and two women.
The others had joined in the flight.

Seeing that our host was now in a state bordering on madness, in that he
insisted that our small party should barricade the palace and defend it
to the last, Edwards and I determined to take the law into our own
hands, and not permit such folly, while there was yet time to get away.
So we took Haroun aside, and informed him of the terms that had been
offered by the Amir, telling him also that there were still many hours
before an answer would be expected. No sooner did he hear what we had to
say than he promptly made up his mind how to act, and without replying
to us, he went across the room to Ali Khan.

"Lord," said he, in a determined and clear voice, "you are my master,
but you are also my friend and my brother. We have all seen you
challenge the lion, on many occasions, to single combat, and we are
aware of your personal bravery. The lion which you would now fight has
claws which no human being can resist, and to engage him single-handed
is certain death. Were there any hope of success, I should be the last
man to counsel aught but resistance. As it is, I counsel you to accept
the fate that has come, and to leave Adiba for a while, if not on your
own account, then for the sake of your wife and child. Come, forget your
own vanity, which would impel you to display your courage to the last,
and remember that there are others to be thought of. All your camels
and mares have already left their grazing ground, as before riding in
here I despatched an escort to drive them away to the north, and they
have been now some hours on the road. My own men, as well as the riding
camels with their matchlock-men, are waiting for me at a little distance
from the walls. I will go and bring them in, while you prepare your
household for departure, and I will escort you to Meshed Ali, where you
can remain until such time as Adiba is restored to you."

Ali Khan made no reply, until Haroun, growing impatient, moved towards
the door, and said he would fetch his men. Then our host, with a
deep-drawn sigh, spoke slowly and sadly.

"So be it, Haroun," he said. "I will go, but only that I may not see my
child suffer before my eyes, and with the hope that he may live to wreak
revenge on the tyrant of Hayil, and on those cowardly physicians who for
years ate of my salt and then betrayed me."

Haroun hurried off, and we remained to assist the Governor to get ready
for the journey. That he had no intention of leaving many of his
personal belongings for his enemies was evident, and he, his wife, the
servants, and ourselves were kept busy carrying his possessions to the
courtyard of the palace, until we heard the clatter of Haroun's horses
outside. The camels were brought in, loaded up, and sent forward, half a
dozen at a time, under small escorts. Most of the horsemen and camelmen
were employed for the space of nearly an hour in securing everything of
value in the Governor's stores, all being promised extra rewards if
Meshed Ali were reached in safety. Then, when the last bale of silk had
been hoisted on to a camel's back, we saw the women and the child placed
on other camels, and leading our horses out of the stable in the
courtyard, we rode through the dark and silent streets to the Baghdad
gate. It was a most painful experience, and I pray that I may never
assist at a similar one. No word was spoken; but, mingled with the noise
of the horses' hoofs, I could hear, as I rode close behind Ali Khan,
what were, only too plainly, his suppressed sobs.

As far as I could estimate, it was about eleven o'clock when we left the
empty town to its fate, and we had before us six or seven hours of
darkness within which to escape. For, until daybreak, the Amir would
take no measures against the town, and it was probable that he was
already confident of the acceptance of his terms. That he would pursue,
Haroun said, was most unlikely, as the capture of Adiba and the sacking
of it would keep his army employed for many days.

So it proved; and throughout our long journey we were never troubled by
the thought of pursuit.




CHAPTER XV.

FATE.


We travelled fast all night, and overtaking the laden camels, the milch
camels, and the mares, at different points, left them to come on with
their escorts, while we trotted ahead as rapidly as the riding camels
could go, though Haroun's horses were somewhat knocked up after their
hard day's work. No regular halt was made next day, as Haroun wished to
put as great a distance as possible between ourselves and Adiba, and we
must have covered quite sixty miles before it was decided that we might
encamp in safety, and await the arrival of the parties still in rear.
The route followed was that which we had taken in the reverse direction
a month or more before, when we accompanied Ali Khan to his town; but
how different were the circumstances--then it was the triumphal
home-coming of a great man; now, the best that could be said for it was
that it resembled an ignominious flight.

Once only during that long day's ride did Ali Khan recover his spirits.
It was when Haroun related the details of his fight of the day
before--as bloody an encounter as perhaps the desert ever witnessed. It
seems that when, towards sunset, the guns opened fire on the town, and
the fresh body of horsemen issued from the enemy's position, to relieve
those who had been engaged all day, Haroun welcomed their appearance on
the scene. Throughout the day he had manoeuvred, as we had surmised,
in such a position as to mask the fire of the guns; but his plan was
twofold, and he had great hopes of being able to draw his opponents away
to the trap which he had carefully prepared for them. About a mile and a
half to the north-west of the town was a steep-sided watercourse, at
this season devoid of water, and at a certain point the pilgrim track
descended into it and out on the other side. In the bed of this
watercourse Haroun, in the morning, had ordered the matchlock-men with
the camels to ensconce themselves and await events. In vain he tried to
break away towards the watercourse, but each time he found himself
outmanoeuvred and headed back, and he began to think that his foes
understood his design. When, however, in the evening, they fled from the
field, and he followed in pursuit, he became hopeful of cutting them off
and driving them in the required direction. But since they rode straight
for the hills, he feared that if he followed he himself would be
ambuscaded. His heart, therefore, gave a great leap when he saw the new
arrivals riding down upon him, for he felt confident that horsemen,
probably waiting for hours to be slipped from the leash, would not
refuse to pursue him whithersoever he should lead them; and his judgment
was not at fault.

Before the wind flew Haroun's men, driving in their spurs, and urging
their tired beasts to a final effort; behind followed the exultant
pursuers, overhauling their quarry at every stride, and filling the air
with their victorious war-howl. Barely fifty yards separated the one
party from the other, as they galloped down the incline into the bed of
the ravine. Haroun, glancing to the right and left, assured himself that
his camelmen were prepared, and without checking his pace, crossed the
watercourse, and led his men, now in a dense mass, up through the
cutting in the bank on the far side. Then commenced the fusillade of the
matchlock-men, and the sound of the first shot told Haroun that the
moment for decisive action had come. He pressed forward until he saw
that all his party had reached the level of the plain, when, with a
mighty yell, he ordered them to wheel round and descend again into the
watercourse. Half way down the slope they encountered the foremost of
their pursuers, attempting to force their way through the cutting, and a
fierce fight ensued. Then, seized with a panic, the unfortunate men of
Hayil broke back into the watercourse, where they were met by the fire
of the camelmen, who had now closed round their flanks and rear, and
fired into them from a distance of only a few yards. Many of the eighty
or ninety had already been killed, but the others fought gallantly, and
made repeated charges on the camelmen, as well as on Haroun's horsemen,
who, now frenzied by the sight of blood, made use of their spears with
deadly effect. Haroun gloated over the affair as he related the tale,
and Ali Khan was no less delighted at the Arab's exploits; as to
myself,--and I fancy that Edwards had much the same feeling,--the
wholesale butchery of brave men made me positively sick. That Haroun did
not do things by halves was clear; for, not content with the slaughter
in the ravine, he pursued the few of the enemy who succeeded in cutting
their way out, and ruthlessly slew them. As a proof of his prowess, the
chief drew attention to the spears of his men, and we could see that the
blood that had been spilled still clotted the tufts of ostrich feathers
on each man's bamboo. Disgusted at the whole thing, we two Englishmen
could hardly speak for the rest of the day; but when we discussed it
afterwards, we came to the conclusion that it was not fair to judge
these men according to our accepted standard. Their business was to
kill, by fair means or by foul; to them the bloodshed was of no more
account than the shooting of pheasants to ourselves; moreover, they knew
that their enemies would not have let slip a similar opportunity.

We halted two days at our first camp, so that all the camels and horses
might be assembled before we went any farther, and it was a comfort to
everyone to learn from the last party that came in that there had been
no sign of pursuit. Then we resumed our journey northwards, and, with
all the horses and camels, made a goodly show. Day after day passed
almost without incident; occasionally a small body of Bedouins was seen
hovering about on our flanks, but they always made off as soon as a few
of our escort rode out towards them; and at last we pitched our camp on
the memorable spot, beside the lake, where, alas, Faris and I had stolen
the horses--an act which I now grieved to think had been at the root of
all the misfortune that had fallen on Adiba and its ruler. There we
remained almost a week, as the beasts required rest and good grazing,
and before we moved on again, I had grown to loathe the place.

"I wish you would cheer up a bit," remarked Edwards one evening; "you
have been in the blues ever since we got here, and it is not very lively
for me, especially as it is all your show, and I only came to keep you
company."

"I simply cannot help it, old man," I said; "I am beastly sorry, but my
conscience worries me dreadfully. If I could only go off to our poor old
host, and tell him that I assisted in the stealing of his two wretched
screws, I should feel ever so much better. Do you think I might?"

"Rubbish!" said Edwards. "What earthly good would it do? You cannot undo
what has been done. Besides, the knowledge that he had been humbugged
would only add to his sorrow. Try to look at things as he does; ascribe
it all to Fate, or, if you prefer it, to the Will of Allah. Think how
ripping it will be to get back to Baghdad!"

"I am not desperately keen about it," said I, "though I must confess
that I would not mind a general clean up and a white man's dinner,
before having another try for the Golden Girdle."

"Haven't you forgotten that miserable bauble?" said my friend. "I hoped
that it had quite gone out of your mind. As far as I am concerned, I
have a return ticket for Baghdad, _viâ_ Meshed Ali. My circular tour is
complete, and I do not propose to break the journey at Golden Girdle
Junction."

"All right," said I. "You wait till, one fine day, I walk into your
house in Baghdad and tell you that I have got it."

"Then," said Edwards, laughing, "I will send for the kawas' trusty
tulwar, smack your kneeling form severely, and give you the order,
'Rise, Sir Walter Henderson, Knight of the Golden Girdle.'"

"Scoffing sceptic," said I, "likewise sceptical scoffer--but here comes
Haroun, and bubbling over with news, I can see. Well, sheik, what have
you got to tell us?"

"Something that will amuse you in these dull times," said he. "Last
night some Shammar were disturbed in the camp while trying to steal our
horses, and they succeeded in getting away. Of course, we thought that
they were the same men who had stolen our other horses here on the
occasion that you will remember. Some of my men pursued at once, and
they have just now returned with three men and their horses, which they
succeeded in capturing two hours from here. Last time we lost two
horses; now we have got three, so we are the better by one, and two of
them are of a good breed. Come and see them."

No sooner did I see the captured horses than I recognised two out of the
three as the property of Faris, and as the beasts that he and I had
ridden on our visit to the seer. The horses were tied to the pegs of the
Governor's tent, and the three Shammar, bound hand and foot, lay close
by, awaiting sentence. I looked furtively at Haroun, wondering if he
could possibly know anything, and my fear increased when I saw him shake
out the contents of my own saddle-bags. There was my long-lost brush and
comb, tooth-brush, underclothing, and various precious odds and ends,
and I longed to seize them all up in my arms, carry them off, and purr
over my old friends. Yet, I had to be most circumspect, and I dreaded
lest Edwards should unwittingly give me away. A glance, however, told me
that he quite understood the state of affairs. Then my discomfiture was
further increased by Haroun calling to Ali Khan to look at the things,
when the two turned over everything, while we explained their use.

"Some unfortunate fellow-countryman of ours," said Edwards, "must have
been robbed by these scoundrels."

"So it seems," said Ali Khan, "but what I would like to know is what all
you Englishmen are doing in the desert; is your country going to
appropriate Arabia, as it has done, they tell me, nearly all the rest of
the world."

He was in a good humour, and I saw that he was only chaffing us; so I
laughingly told him that when England conquered the country, he should
be proclaimed Sultan of Arabia, which appeared to please him a good
deal, for he forthwith made us a present of the Ingleezee's stolen
property.

"It's an ill wind, and so forth," murmured Edwards, as we bore away our
treasures in triumph. "Lucky for you that Faris is not here; for after
this you would never be able to induce him to believe that you were not
a real live magician."

"To tell you the truth," said I, "I am beginning to think that I _am_.
But my conscience is troubling me again; I wonder if they will slaughter
those three wretched thieves. I have a kind of fellow-feeling for them.
I think I shall go and intercede for them."

"Much better not," said Edwards. "It might only lead to complications;
besides, as I said before, we really must try to be fatalists."

"Yes, I know," I answered, "but perhaps it has been written in the fate
of those men that a foreigner shall save their necks. Of course it was
vile and wicked of them to try and steal the Governor's horses, and it
certainly was more vile and more wicked of them to steal the horses that
Faris and I had left in the ruins; but, after all, did I not myself
steal a horse and sundry water-skins?"

However, I thought that for once I would act on my own initiative, so
while my companion was taking a siesta I slipped away and found Haroun,
who was just going to take the thieves before the Governor. I asked him
what sentence he thought they would receive, and was told that it was
doubtful, but I was glad to hear that, in any case, it would not be
death. Out of curiosity I went to the Governor's tent to hear him
dispose of the prisoners, and I was much impressed with the trouble he
took to arrive at all the facts. Haroun explained to me aside that if
they were found guilty of attempting to steal from friends of their
tribe, they would have their right hands cut off; otherwise they would
be kept as prisoners until their tribe ransomed them, the ransom going
to the men who had caught them. The trial took an immense time, but in
the end Haroun proclaimed all Shammar to be his enemies, as his own
tribe was a branch of the Aeniza; and Ali Khan declared that they had
attempted to steal from their enemies, and would therefore remain
prisoners until ransomed by their people. The next question was the
amount of the ransom, and how their tribe was to be informed that they
were prisoners. The Bedouins pleaded poverty, but finally suggested that
if one of them were allowed to go and interview the members of the
tribe, the necessary amount might be forthcoming. This course Haroun
refused to allow, explaining to the Governor that it would undoubtedly
lead to a powerful band of Shammar attacking the caravan, rescuing the
prisoners, and probably looting everything. It was, therefore, arranged
that the men should accompany us to Meshed Ali, from which place they
should be permitted to communicate with their tribe.

The day after this, we started on the last week of the march to Meshed
Ali, and we soon learned that a prisoner's lot was no pleasant one. Each
morning the wretched thieves were brought out, with their legs and hands
tied, and placed on the backs of camels; and at the end of the day's
march, three grave-like holes were dug in the ground for their
reception. In these they were laid, with hands tied, legs chained to
pegs, and their twisted hair fastened to other pegs on either side of
their heads. Neither was this all, for, in order to render escape quite
impossible, sticks were laid across the graves, and on them were piled
up as many weighty articles of baggage as were thought necessary, only
one small breathing-hole being left over the face. I remonstrated with
Haroun on this harsh treatment, but he declared that it was the
invariable custom, and that they did not really mind it.

On the third day's march one of the prisoners was taken ill, and Edwards
was asked to go and see him.

"Now's your chance," said I, "tell the Governor that they have all three
got symptoms of small-pox or something, and had better be turned adrift.
The poor devils have had quite enough punishment for a crime which, in
this land, is really no crime at all."

"I will see what I can manage," said Edwards, as he went off.

When he returned later on, he said that his courage had failed him at
the last moment. He had quite made up his mind to act on my suggestion,
but he was afraid that Ali Khan or Haroun might know the symptoms of
small-pox, and so find him out. He thought, however, that by judicious
questioning he might discover what the two chiefs knew of the disease,
and if he found that they knew nothing, then, the next day, he would
settle with his conscience whether humanity or honesty should have the
first place.

"The unfortunate man," said Edwards, "has dysentery, and is as weak as a
cat. I have done this much for him: I went to Haroun and told him,
without mentioning what was actually the matter, that the prisoner was
very ill, and unless properly attended to might die at any moment. I
pointed out that if he remained in that prison-hole he would certainly
be dead before morning. Haroun, at first, went off on the old fate tack,
and said he could not interfere; but when I told him that I would go and
interview the Governor, he gave me leave to do what I thought best about
the man. Well, the long and the short of it is that, if you do not mind,
I am going to give the invalid a shakedown for the night in our tent."

"Of course I do not mind," said I.

"I thought you would not," said Edwards, "and I arranged with Haroun
that, as soon as it was dark, he should come and help us bring the man
over here. The only condition he made was that I would be responsible
that he was handed over, dead or alive, in the morning, before we
march."

Great was the astonishment of the Shammar when we took him out of his
hole, and conveyed him to our tent; and when Edwards explained to him
that he was to remain with us for the night, so that he might be looked
after, he almost wept with gratitude. He willingly promised that he
would not betray our trust in him by attempting to escape, and he swore
that, if he ever recovered his health and freedom, he would find a means
of repaying us for our kindness.

Little did we imagine that we were entertaining unawares, if not
actually an angel, a man who, before long, would influence our every
action.




CHAPTER XVI.

RESCUE.


So ill was the unfortunate prisoner, that Edwards insisted that during
the next day's march he should ride unfettered and in comparative
comfort on a camel. He stood the journey well, and on reaching camp he
was no worse than he had been at starting in the morning. Again he was
consigned to our care and accommodated in our tent.

We were now within four days' ride of Meshed Ali, and the Governor (as
we still called him) decided that, before entering the town, it would be
necessary to send forward messengers, with presents to the notables,
requesting an asylum, and asking permission to rent suitable quarters.
This, we learned, might take some considerable time, and in the
meanwhile the _kafila_ was to halt and prepare for the entry into the
Holy City. This delay was most annoying to Edwards and myself, for
having returned, as it were, to the outskirts of civilisation, we were
anxious to take an affectionate farewell of our friends, to whom we
could be no longer of any assistance, and get away on our own business.
Edwards, of course, wished to return to Baghdad as soon as possible; and
I was equally desirous of seeking out Faris, with a view to learning if
he had discovered anything about the Golden Girdle.

"I have been thinking," said Edwards, "that we might clear out from
here. I do not see any use in going on with Ali Khan to Meshed Ali. Our
presence cannot make much difference, and I do not suppose that he and
Haroun really care whether we see them all the way to the town or not.
They will not want a doctor any longer, and they know that as soon as we
reach Meshed Ali we shall continue the journey to Baghdad."

"I quite agree," said I; "the only thing is that we must not do anything
to wound the feelings either of Ali Khan or of Haroun. I am still
haunted by the idea that it was entirely through us that the poor old
Governor came to grief, and he has been a perfect brick about it. Just
think what it all means to him."

"Of one thing," said Edwards, "you may be certain. Directly I get back
to Baghdad, I will induce the Consul-General to espouse his cause, and I
will do my utmost to persuade him to worry the Turkish authorities to
death, or at any rate until they have seen justice done to Ali Khan. If
they choose, they can easily give Hayil a slap on the face, and
reinstate Ali Khan at Adiba, that is to say if the town has not been
destroyed."

"Well," said I, "shall we go and suggest that we would like to go off to
Baghdad at once, without waiting to go to Meshed Ali?"

"We cannot tackle the business to-night," said Edwards. "It is too late
now; I expect they have all turned in; but we will see about it in the
morning. We have not yet settled what we are going to do about this
feeble prisoner and his two friends."

"Perhaps," I suggested, "they will let them go as our guides."

"Not they," said Edwards. "Each of them means a bit of money--a ransom
of a hundred camels for the lot, at least."

"There is nothing for it then," said I, "but the small-pox yarn."

"But I told Haroun to-day that I thought the sick man was ever so much
better," remarked Edwards.

Just then we noticed that our patient was sitting up on his rugs in the
corner of the tent, and gazing at us intently.

"Do you want anything?" asked Edwards.

"Yes, Beg," said the Shammar, "I want to speak to you. I am so much
better, thanks to your care, that I can now talk."

"Probably you wish," said Edwards, "to ask me to let you escape. If that
is what you want, I must tell you at once that, although I would gladly
see you and the others go free, it cannot be, for I have promised that
you shall not escape."

"That does not trouble me," said the Bedouin, "since I have friends in
Meshed Ali, and as soon as I reach the place, we shall be ransomed."

"Then what is it that you wish to say?" asked Edwards.

"I have travelled," said the man, "for several days now with you two
Ingleezee; and, without your knowledge, I have watched all your actions.
You are both kind and good men, but neither of you is the man whom we
were seeking when we entered your camp by the marsh and were captured as
supposed stealers of horses. We had no intention of taking horses or
anything from any man, but we had heard that there were two Ingleezee
travelling with the caravan, and we thought that one of them would be
the man with whom we have a blood feud. We knew that two Ingleezee had
come to the desert, because we found, at the ruins of Katib, the horse
and saddle-bags of one of them, and had actually seen him. The other we
know well, and for him have dared much, but only to be deceived, to be
cheated, robbed, insulted, and even murdered. There must have been three
of you. What have you done with the other?"

"According to you," said Edwards, "there should be four, that is two
besides my friend here and myself. There is the man with whom you are so
anxious to settle accounts, and there is the man whose horse you say you
found at the ruins of Katib."

"No," said the Shammar, turning his eyes on me, "only three. The horse
that we took at the ruins belonged to your friend."

"How do you know this?" I asked, thrown off my guard by the suddenness
with which the statement had been made.

"Thus," he replied; "I met with an accident at the ruins, and was lying
alone among the stones, not ten paces from the spot where you had left
your horse, when you and that Faris of the Jelas came by, and I laughed
when I saw that my friends had taken your horses and left you to walk.
But of this I have spoken to no man outside of my own tribe."

I now began to feel uncomfortable, for, as I said to myself, if this man
were to disclose what he knew to Ali Khan, I should be in a very awkward
predicament. Here was evidence that I and Faris, deprived of our horses,
had been seen walking away from the ruins towards the marsh, just at the
very time that Ali Khan's horses had been stolen, and I was quite sure
that any Arab of ordinary intelligence would be able to put two and two
together.

"Why did you not tell this to your captors when you were taken?" I
asked.

"Because," said the man, "they would not have believed me. But when I
felt very ill, some days back, I was on the point of disclosing
everything. Then you came to succour me, and since that time I have been
filled with gratitude towards you both--so much so, that even if I were
now to be in peril of my life, I would hold my peace concerning what I
saw at those ruins, unless it should be your wish that I should speak."

"What harm would it do my friend," asked Edwards, "were you to proclaim
that you saw him at Katib? The ruins are free to all."

"Even so," said the Shammar, "but we in the desert know all things. News
travels fast. We have heard that Faris did not enter the Jelas
encampment on foot, but riding a horse stolen from this self-same
Governor of Adiba, then encamped by the marsh at no great distance from
Katib. Another horse was stolen at the same time. By whom was it
stolen?"

He looked at me, and smiled; but I did not reply at once to his
question. I was convinced that he was trying to drive a bargain; that in
return for his silence he was to be given his liberty; and I felt that
he had got me up into a corner, with power to do much as he pleased with
me. At first I thought I would bluff him; then I remembered a piece of
advice that Faris once gave me, which was to the effect that one might
humbug a townsman with success, but that with a true Bedouin, honesty
would be found to be the best policy.

"What matter does it make," said I, "by whom the horse was stolen? The
man who stole it required it. The man who lost it could well do without
it. So we will say no more on that point. But tell me of this third
Ingleezee whom you know so well, and whose blood you wish to shed."

"Whence he came," said the Bedouin, "I cannot tell you, but our sheik,
after a visit to Kerbela, brought him back with him to our tents. Since
that time, I and all the men of the tribe have had misfortunes. Sheik
Abbas was slain in battle by your cruel friend Faris; his nephew, even
he who became sheik at the death of Abbas, disappeared at Katib with two
trusty companions. We doubt not that they were murdered by a shaitan who
dwelt in the ruins. I and ten others--all that remained of our
family--went to Katib to find them, but our search was fruitless."

"So, in revenge," said I, "you slew the shaitan, otherwise Raspul,
Priest of the Goddess Sophana."

"How know you?" asked the man.

"How I know matters not," I answered. "But I know it, and, furthermore,
I know that you stole from his dead body that golden belt, which
undoubtedly has proved as great a curse to you as it has to all men who
have touched it."

"Since you know these things," said he, "you and Faris must have watched
us from some hiding-place."

"True," said I.

"Then you saw all?"

"We saw you break in the roof of the temple, and kill Raspul; and we saw
a man descend by a rope."

The Shammar opened his eyes wide, drew a deep breath, and sighed.

"Come now," said I, "tell me what happened to you afterwards."

"There were eleven of us," said he, "and that Ingleezee. As we fled from
the ruins, my horse tripped and rolled over with me, leaving me with an
injured leg, and galloping loose after the others. It was then that I
lay among the stones for many hours, and after a time I saw you and
Faris go by. Next day three of my friends came back to fetch me, and we
went together to the place where they had left the Ingleezee and the
others. All had disappeared. We found the horses' hoof marks, and we
followed them up. They were galloping fast, and though we rode rapidly
we could not overtake them. At length, after several days, we found the
body of one of our friends, lying in the desert. He had been shot by a
bullet from the Ingleezee's pistol. Farther on, we came on another of
our men, who had also been shot, but was not yet dead; and from him,
before he died, we learned all that had occurred. How the Ingleezee had
seized that serpent belt, refusing to pay anything that he had promised;
how he had ridden away with it; how my people had pursued him; and how
when they were overtaking him, he turned upon them and shot them with
his pistol. But that was not all the evil that he did; for as we
journeyed on, we overtook the rest of the men in a _wadi_, four of them
had been wounded, three, as it proved, mortally, and the others had
abandoned farther pursuit, in order to attend to their friends. Then we
all bound ourselves by an oath that we would not rest again in our tents
until we had buried our knives in the body of that Ingleezee. Whither he
escaped we could never discover, for shortly afterwards a great
sand-storm blew over us, and we were unable to again find the footprints
of his horse. It may be that he perished in the storm, but we continued
to search for him in all directions. After some weeks, we heard that two
Ingleezee were living at Adiba, and I and my two companions started for
that place; but, before we had gone very far, we met some Bedouins who
told us that the town had been captured by Hayil, and that the Governor
and the two Ingleezee were fleeing in our direction. So we halted near
the marsh of the great lake, and the rest you are acquainted with. But
when I am again free, I shall continue the search for your countryman,
and one day, if it please Allah, I shall see him die."

I had purposely refrained from interrupting the Shammar as he told his
tale, though I frequently wished to break in and ask questions. Now,
however, I could satisfy my curiosity.

"What manner of man," I asked, "is that Ingleezee?"

"A fat man," was the reply, "and dark, not of a red colour like you
two."

"Are you sure that he is an Englishman? May he not be a native of some
other country of Europe?"

"That I cannot say. I know nothing of the distinctions between the
inhabitants of one country and of another. I only know that he is a
European."

"Did you not know," I asked, "why he came with your sheik from Kerbela?"

"At first, we were told that he came to see the desert, as Europeans do
sometimes. Then, one day, Sheik Abbas called us together and told us
that the seer at Katib possessed a gold belt, which the Ingleezee
desired to buy; that he would give 5000 kerans for it, and that two of
us should go and ask Raspul to sell it. So I and another went to the
ruins, and interviewed the seer. He told us that he had no belt, but
afterwards he brought it and showed it to us, and expressed his
willingness to part with it. We arranged with him that the price should
be 2000 kerans, so that we might all share with Sheik Abbas the other
3000, and he agreed to bring the belt to a certain spot near Babil on a
certain day. Proudly, we returned to our tents, and told the sheik what
we had done, and the Ingleezee, on hearing it, gave each of us some gold
money as bakhshish."

"But," I inquired, "had the Ingleezee 5000 kerans with him, so that he
might purchase the belt?"

"No," said the Bedouin, "he had only a little money, but a Jew in
Kerbela had told our sheik that, if the Ingleezee wrote on a piece of
paper the amount of any sum that he required, then Yusuf Mersina, the
Baghdad merchant, would pay it. So the Ingleezee wrote down 5000 kerans
and gave the paper to the sheik, and it was agreed that when Raspul
delivered over the belt, Sheik Abbas should take it and the paper to
Baghdad, and receive the money, and we were to ride with the Ingleezee
to Bussorah."

"Why was not the Ingleezee to take the belt?" I asked.

"Because Sheik Abbas would not let it go out of his possession until he
received the money, since he was to be responsible to the seer for the
payment of the 2000 kerans."

"I understand," said I. "But tell me, did the seer bring the belt to the
appointed place?"

"No," said the man, "a curse on him! We waited for him for three hours:
in his stead came your Faris; and Sheik Abbas fell at his hands. Then
the Ingleezee spoke to Sheik Ahmed, and said that if he procured the
belt he would give 5000 kerans. Ahmed went to Katib to see Raspul,
taking with him two men; and those three we have never seen since. It
was thus that the rest of us went to the ruins, and carried off the
belt, hoping to obtain the 5000 kerans from the Ingleezee. But my
friends tell me that he took the belt and sewed it up in his cloak, and
when they demanded the money, he told them that he had already paid
Sheik Abbas 5000 kerans, and that he could pay no more. It was then that
he rode away, as I have already related."

The man was so exhausted by talking, that Edwards now insisted on his
taking a draught and going to sleep. We ourselves sat up for some time,
discussing matters, and trying to unravel the mystery of the stranger
who had defeated me over the Golden Girdle. As we worked it out, the
whole thing seemed clear enough. Some foreigner knew as much as I did
about the Girdle, and had somehow learned that it was in existence above
ground. He had apparently discovered this from someone at Kerbela, who
had handed him over to the Shammar. The German note which we had read
was, of course, his order for the payment of the 5000 kerans to Sheik
Abbas. The courage of the man astounded us; he made up his mind to annex
the Girdle; to keep it, he had made free use of his revolver, and though
I did not admire his bloodthirsty methods, it was a bitter thing to me
to have to acknowledge that I was not in the running with such a man.

"I am afraid it is all up with the prize now, George," I said.

"Yes, I am afraid so," said Edwards. "But we will get back to Baghdad,
and put the screw on this Yusuf Mersina, until he divulges the name of
the villain."

"That will not help much," I said. "He has probably reached Bussorah
long ago, and is half way to Europe by now."

"A wire will stop him at Karachi, or Aden, or somewhere, and have him
arrested for murdering Turkish subjects," said Edwards.

"That would not be very sporting," I replied. "I expect the best thing
will be to say nothing of what we have heard."

We were both soon asleep, and of what actually happened after that, and
when it happened, I have no knowledge. All I can say is that at some
time in the night I was aroused by a slight rustling noise in the tent,
and before I was half awake I felt myself being smothered by something
like a rug being held over my face. Thinking that I was suffering from
nightmare, I kicked and struggled, and wondered when I was going to wake
up, but the comforting feeling that it was only a dream never came.
Instead of it, several hands seemed to hold me down, and presently, as I
still struggled, they gripped me harder and harder, and I found that my
legs and arms were being bound with ropes. Then suddenly, fingers passed
across my face, under the rug; my mouth was prised open, and, before I
could utter a sound, a great wooden gag was thrust between my teeth, and
secured by a string behind my neck. In this state, and in total
darkness, I was left for a few minutes; then two men quietly lifted me
up, and carried me outside the tent, away into the black night, at a
jog-trot One man had his arms round my knees, while the other supported
my shoulders; and I soon found that by no amount of struggling could I
free myself. After travelling in this uncomfortable manner for, it may
have been, half a mile, I was deposited on the ground, and a moment
later was hoisted on to the back of a squatting camel, and secured with
ropes to one side of a pannier-like framework. What weight on the other
side balanced mine I could not see, as, although there was a certain
amount of light from the stars, the great hump of the beast blocked my
view. Several men held on to me as the camel was made to rise, and it
was as well; for otherwise, in all probability, I should have had many
broken bones. A lurch backwards, a lurch forwards, and a final lurch
sideways, brought me high above the ground; then came a frantic plunge,
and I knew that the "ship of the desert" had set sail.




CHAPTER XVII.

THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT.


The pace was rapid, and the motion painful in the extreme. So
uncomfortable was I, that I found it quite impossible to collect my
thoughts, and I could not understand why I was being subjected to this
hideous torture. My bones ached all over, my body was becoming numbed,
and the gag in my mouth almost choked me. Yet I was powerless to do
anything, except gaze upwards at the stars, which appeared to swish
wildly backwards and forwards, as if attempting to fall in with the gait
of the camel. Was I another Mazeppa? Was I to be thus carried about the
desert until death came to my relief? Had all this been brought about by
the goddess Sophana, wrathful at my desire to possess her sacred girdle?
Such thoughts passed rapidly through my brain, and became jumbled up
with countless other thoughts. I lost consciousness, and regained it
only to find the same eternal condition of affairs, to hear the same
thud of the camel's feet, and to feel the same dipping plunge, as the
legs on my side of the beast flew forward. At last, I felt that I could
stand it no longer, and I prayed fervently that I might die before I
went mad. I thought that my prayer was about to be answered; I thought
that I was dying, when suddenly I heard shouting, and, without any
warning, the camel's legs appeared to scatter in all directions. The
"ship of the desert" had cast anchor, and so severe was the shock to my
feeble body, that every atom of breath was knocked out of it.

When I recovered, I found myself lying in a delightfully shady grove of
date trees, my arms and legs free, and a saddle-bag supporting my head.
I looked listlessly around, and saw a few camels and horses, and, at a
little distance, a group of Arabs squatting round a fire, and eating
their food. I turned over, and looked on the other side, and there, to
my surprise and delight, I saw George Edwards lying peacefully asleep,
within a yard of me. I tried to speak, but my jaw was stiff, and my
tongue would not move; so I sank back, and, utterly exhausted, dropped
off to sleep again. When next I awoke, Edwards was sitting by my side,
and our Shammar patient was holding a vessel of water to my parched
lips. How I drank! And, as I drank, new life seemed to enter into me.

[Illustration: "WHEN NEXT I AWOKE EDWARDS WAS SITTING BY MY SIDE."]

"If this is a dream, George," I remarked, "it is the most beastly
nightmare that I have ever assisted at."

"It is no dream, old chap," he said. "It is a stern reality. Thank
goodness that it is over."

"What has been going on, then?" I asked.

"I have just been hearing about it from our sick friend here," said
Edwards. "Unbeknown to him, his pals planned a rescue, and it seems that
they had been watching us for days. They managed to bring away all three
of the supposed horse-thieves, as well as their three horses and two
others, so they did pretty well."

"Why did they bother to bring _us_?" I asked.

"They have apologised most humbly," said Edwards, "but they say that it
was absolutely necessary that Ali Khan should be induced to believe that
we had assisted in the escape of the prisoners."

"Rather rough," said I, "that we should be made the scape-goats,
considering all the trouble you took about the sick man. Nice sort of
Englishmen old Ali Khan will think us, eating of his salt and accepting
his hospitality, and then assisting to rob him of his lawful prisoners
and his horses."

"I know," said Edwards; "but we will look up Ali Khan some day, and set
matters right. How are you feeling after that awful jolting?"

"Limp," I answered, "disgustingly limp. Were you also trussed up on the
side of a camel?"

"Much like yourself," said he. "I was on the same beast as
yourself--only that mountain of a hump between us. But I did not
discover it until I was taken down. I expect we shall be stiff for
days."

Then we talked over all that had occurred, and I found that our
experiences had been very similar, except that our kidnappers very
nearly did for Edwards by keeping the cloth too tight over his face
while they were tying him up. In fact, he had no recollection of
anything until he felt the cold air rushing across his face, as the
camel bore him along. We congratulated each other on having weathered
the tempestuous voyage, and we actually laughed over it--so ludicrous
did it seem, now that it was all over. According to what Edwards had
heard from the men, we must have come sixty or seventy miles straight on
end, as they were afraid of being followed; and how our sick man had
survived the journey we could not understand. There did not, however,
seem to be much the matter with him, and while we were talking he
appeared on the scene, bringing us some food.

"We were just wondering, Daud," said Edwards, addressing him, "why you
are alive. Surely you must be feeling ill after the long ride."

"Lord," answered the Bedouin, "it is good to be once more free in the
desert. It was the confinement that was killing me."

Naturally anxious to find out what was in store for us, we set to work
to cross-question our friend, while we ate the food which he had
brought. We learned that he and his two fellow-prisoners knew nothing of
the proposed rescue until it was an accomplished fact. Their rescuers
had never been able to communicate with them, although they had entered
the camp on more than one night, and had discovered how everything was
situated. Then they formed their plan, which was certainly a bold one.
Originally, the party had consisted of no more than six men, but not
daring to attempt the rescue with so few, the chief went off and secured
the services of ten of his kinsmen; and to each of the sixteen was
allotted a separate task. That they were all men to be trusted to carry
through a desperate enterprise the chief knew well; for he was aware
that if the courage of one man failed, the plan would be wrecked. He
himself and three others were to remain at some distance from the camp,
in charge of two camels and the horses of the party; five men were to
capture the horses; three to release the two prisoners from their holes
in the ground; and four to carry off ourselves and the man lying sick in
our tent. Nothing was left to chance; each man knew exactly where he had
to go, and each had sworn that if he were detected in the act of
performing his part, he would do all in his power to induce his captors
to believe that he was a thief who had entered the camp alone.
Everything worked without a hitch, and our friend was delighted at the
brilliant success.

"I am sorry," he said, as he concluded his story, "that it should have
been necessary to put you, my two kind friends, to so much discomfort,
but you may be sure that I will ever look after your welfare, and when
you shall have accomplished that for which the chief brought you away,
then you shall take your horses, and we will see you to within a safe
distance of Baghdad."

"I thought," said Edwards, "that you said that we were carried off, so
that Ali Khan might be deceived about your rescue."

"That was so," replied the Arab, "and that was what the chief of the
party at first told me. He has since given me a second reason; but he
will come presently to pay his respects to you, and will then explain
everything."

It was not long before the promised visit was paid, and our visitor, who
was accompanied by nearly all the members of the party, delighted us by
his urbanity--if such a term can be used of a real child of the desert.
He was frank and open in his speech, and he told us that he and his men
felt greatly honoured by having us with them; that he hoped that we had
not suffered much bodily pain by our long ride; and that we would not
want for anything while we remained their guests. Then he shook each of
us warmly by the hand; smiled on us; and, before we realised that he had
told us nothing, walked away. We were on the point of calling after him
to stay and explain matters, when Daud, our sick man, whispered to us to
have patience; the chief, he said, could not speak fully before all his
men, but he would return later, when the camp had settled down for the
night.

So we possessed our souls in patience, and spent the remaining hour or
so of daylight in making ourselves comfortable in the little wigwam that
had been erected for us. Soon after dark, Daud returned with the chief,
who brought with him his long pipe, whereby we knew that the sitting was
to be of considerable duration. His conversation was delightful, and he
discussed nearly everything under the sun; but, to our intense
annoyance, kept away from the only topic which for the time being was of
interest to us. He recounted deeds of personal valour, and told us of
his many encounters with the Aeniza; he dilated on the pleasures of
Baghdad; and described the fanaticism of the pilgrims who visit the Holy
Shrine at Kerbela each year; and I verily believe that he would have
left us in ignorance of the future, had I not summoned up courage to put
a direct question to him.

"Tell us now, sheik," I said, "how we can be of service to you. We are
willing to assist you in any way that we can, but my friend is eager to
return to his duties at Baghdad as soon as it shall be convenient to
you."

"Dear me," said he, "I had almost forgotten the object of my visit, so
pleasant have I found your company. But now that you have recalled me to
myself, we will discuss business."

Long and earnestly did he then speak, and he gave us a full explanation
for his having carried us off from Ali Khan's camp. There were three
reasons. The first was, as Daud had told us, in order to deceive Ali
Khan, and so prevent him from having a cause of everlasting feud with
the Shammar tribesmen. As matters stood, it was his hope that Ali Khan
would think that Edwards and I had released the three prisoners, and had
assisted in the theft of the five horses, for them and ourselves to
ride. The second reason was that the sheik knew that Daud was ill and
might require the attention of a doctor; he knew that one of us was a
doctor, but being uncertain which, had thought it advisable to bring
both of us. But the third reason was the most important, and doubtless
the real cause of our having been kidnapped.

"From my friend Daud," continued the sheik, "I have learned much
information concerning you. From him also you have learned many things,
and you know of your mysterious fellow-countryman, as well as of his
evil deeds. You know also of the gold belt which he has with him, and
for which he promised to pay 5000 kerans. But of more recent events
neither you nor Daud have heard."

Then he related how he and his men had come to know that the "ill-born
Ingleezee," as he styled him, had taken refuge with two Jews who lived
in a hovel close to the Birs Nimroud--the reputed Tower of Babel, a few
miles from Hillah. These Jews had always been firm friends of the
Shammar, and had helped them out of many difficulties, and for that
reason they felt bound to respect the person of the man who had become
the _dakhil_, or protected guest, of the Jews. They were thus cheated of
their revenge, and the blood feud was at an end. Yet, there was now a
hope that the Ingleezee, who was very ill, would be induced to pay them
the money for the belt; in fact, he had told the Jews that he would do
so, if he should recover sufficiently to reach Baghdad. The long and the
short of it was that Edwards was to go and treat the man, so that the
Shammar might get their 5000 kerans. We were, we were told, barely
twenty-five miles from the spot, and it was proposed that we should rest
the next day, starting on the journey at nightfall. We willingly agreed
to undertake the work, for we were naturally inquisitive as to the
strange individual of whom we had heard such queer tales. Moreover, I
saw before me a chance of striking a bargain for the Golden Girdle. I
was prepared to pay the Shammar what had been promised, and to give the
mysterious foreigner something for himself in addition. I built palatial
castles in the air, and continued to build them until long after our
host had brought his visit to a close. The Serpent Belt of Sophana lay
within measurable distance of my grasp. Two days hence it might be
actually mine. Before the week had ended, Edwards and I might be back in
Baghdad, when a wire to my uncle announcing my success would make the
name of Walter Henderson famous, if not in the world, at any rate in the
British Museum. My mother had often told me how, when I was quite a
small boy, she had been present, at the Albert Hall, at the reception
given to the great Stanley, on his return from the Emin Pasha
expedition; and how the Prince of Wales and all London were there to do
him honour. I trembled to think what was in store for me. Would I also
have to face tier above tier of London society? Would I have to deliver
an address, and relate all my experiences? Undoubtedly all these things
would happen, and more besides. I should, of course, be commanded to a
private audience of the King at Buckingham Palace, so that he might
inspect the Girdle, before others had seen it. Then I thought of the
endless dinners of various learned societies in London, whereat I should
be the guest of the evening. I began to wonder if I could stand it all;
or if it would not be better to seek the post of commander-in-chief to
Ali Khan, when he should be reinstated at Adiba.

So I dreamed on far into the night, and the sleep that followed was
unbroken for many hours of the following day.

At dusk we prepared for our new journey, and our friend Daud himself
brought us our horses, smiling as he told us that the chief presented
them to us. I was given the horse that I had ridden to the ruins of
Katib with Faris, while Faris's own horse was bestowed on Edwards.

"Little did you think," remarked Daud to me, "that you would ever ride
this horse again."

"We never know," said I, "what is written in our fate."

"True," said he; "Allah alone knows."

[Illustration: "DAYLIGHT SHOWED US, IN THE FAR DISTANCE, THE MOUND OF
THE BIRS NIMROUD"]

Then, by the light of a glorious moon, we all rode out across the
trackless expanse--a few men ahead, a few on either flank, and others in
rear; and thus we continued to ride, Daud and the sheik ever conversing
with us, until the moon paled before the rising sun, and daylight showed
us, in the far distance, the mound of the Birs Nimroud.




CHAPTER XVIII.

TRUE FRIENDSHIP.


During the heat of the day we halted in a grove, while two men rode on
to inform the Jews that an English doctor and his companion were on
their way to visit the Ingleezee refugee. Late that night they returned,
saying that our arrival would be welcomed by the invalid, who was no
better. So, shortly afterwards, we continued our journey, and in the
early hours of the morning reached our destination, when the sheik,
bidding us remain a few yards away, went on to interview the Jews. He
came back almost at once, with the news that the Ingleezee was alone in
the hut, as the Jews had left him some hours before. The man was
evidently very ill, and wished to see the English doctor as soon as
possible, but requested the sheik to keep his Arabs outside the hut.

The squalid dwelling which we entered had but one small room, which was
badly lighted by an oil lamp standing on the floor. In one corner lay
the man whom we had come to succour. Speaking with a feeble voice, he
addressed us in English, but with a foreign accent. The voice was
familiar to me, but I could not remember ever to have seen the
scrubbly-bearded face of the speaker, who was shading his eyes and
gazing into my face.

"Valter 'Enderson," he said, "you do not recollect poor Fritz Kellner."

I stared at him in amazement, and, completely overcome, I could find no
words with which to reply. It was a terrible shock to me to see my
ever-cheery cabin companion in so desperate a plight, and to think that
he and his revolver had played such havoc with the Shammar. I turned
away from him almost in horror, while Edwards knelt down and examined
him; then, when I had roused myself to a sense of duty, I went across
and took his hand.

"My poor friend," I said, "how _could_ you have come to this?"

"It was that accursed Girdle," said he. "Take my advice, and touch it
not; for within it lies a devil incarnate, goading one to madness, and
impelling one to do such things as no sane man would dream of doing. But
it is a lovely treasure--the most superb piece of workmanship that I
have ever handled; and to have been the possessor of it even for a few
days was well worth all the hardships that I have endured."

"Do you not now possess it?" I asked. "You speak as if it were a thing
of the past."

"Alas," he replied, "I had to let it go. The Jews who are my hosts heard
a few hours ago that a strong party of Aeniza were in search of it, and
had discovered that I had it here. They may arrive at any moment; but
they will be disappointed, for the Girdle is now being conveyed by the
two Jews to a place of safety."

No sooner did I hear that we were likely to be visited by Aeniza, than I
slipped out of the hut, to warn our people. Day was already breaking,
and the Shammar sheik laughed when I told him that the Aeniza were
coming. They feared no Aeniza, he said; though, even as he spoke, he
motioned to his men to get to their horses; and as I returned to the
hut, I saw him lead them away, at a canter, to a hollow in the ground
situated half a mile or so from the spot. For a long while Edwards and I
sat silently watching the unfortunate German, who now had sunk into a
restless sleep.

"Can he possibly pull round?" I asked in a whisper.

"I should not like to offer an opinion," said Edwards. "I have not
overhauled him properly; but, as far as I can make out, he is in an
awful state. If I had him in hospital at Baghdad, I might do something
for him. Here, without any appliances, I am powerless."

"What can we do?" I asked.

"We ought to send, or one of us go, into Hillah," said he, "and get our
friend the Captain to take the man into his hospital. It cannot be many
miles from here, as you will remember that we visited the Tower one
morning from Hillah."

"I'll go off myself," I said, "if you will stay and look after the man.
I daresay the sheik will see me on the way, as he is interested in
Kellner's recovery, though I had better not say that the Girdle has got
adrift again."

The words were hardly out of my mouth before the sound of countless
galloping horses broke on our ears; and, rushing to the door, we opened
it a couple of inches and peered out. The whole place seemed to be alive
with Bedouin horsemen, and before we could secure the door, the two
foremost of the party, springing from their horses, had torn it open. We
recoiled towards the corner where lay the feeble Kellner, who, either in
a state of delirium, or from force of habit, sat up and snatched his
revolver from under his pillow. Edwards, however, seized his wrist, as
his finger touched the trigger, and the bullet buried itself in the
roof. But the report of the pistol was the signal for a general assault
on the hut; we ourselves were quickly overpowered, and the whole place
was levelled to the ground almost before we knew what had happened.
Then, above the din, I heard a voice which to me was music. It was the
rallying shout of the great Faris; there was no mistaking it; and, a
second later, my hand grasped his, and Sedjur and Edwards simultaneously
recognised each other.

"So it is you," said Faris, after he had recovered from his first
surprise, "whom I have been hunting for so long. How did you succeed in
carrying off that serpent belt?"

"I have it not," I answered. "I have never seen it since that horrible
night when Raspul was killed."

"But they told me," said Faris, "that an Ingleezee had secured it, and
had ridden with it to this spot."

"That may have been true," I replied, "yet----"

I broke off suddenly, remembering then for the first time that our
Shammar friends were lying in ambush close by, ready to fall on the
Aeniza. I was in a dilemma, and I could see that Edwards had also
forgotten everything, in his joy at meeting Faris and Sedjur again. To
betray the Shammar, I felt, would be base in the extreme. To allow them
to surprise the Aeniza would be still more base. Bloodshed must be
avoided at all costs. I knew that the mere handful of men of which the
Shammar party consisted, would stand no chance against the hundred or
more Aeniza who were with Faris; I felt convinced, also, that, however
great the risk, the Shammar sheik would not hesitate to attack. All this
passed through my mind in the space of a minute, and within that minute
I had also decided on the course I would pursue.

"Sheik Faris," I said, and I spoke rapidly, "I am well acquainted with
your generosity. Grant me a favour."

"To you, magician," he answered, laughing, "I will grant anything you
ask, knowing, as I do, that you possess the power to take it, whether I
grant it or not."

"Then," said I, "bid your men mount at once. A score of Shammar lay
concealed over yonder. They are my friends, and I ask of you that there
shall be no bloodshed."

"You are certainly taxing my generosity," said he, "but, though I do not
pretend to be a Hatim Tai, your friends shall be shown the road to
safety."

Collecting his men, and leading them out, Faris rode towards the spot
which I had pointed out to him while I watched anxiously to see what
would happen I had not to wait long, however; for, before the Aeniza had
gone a few yards, I saw, to my intense relief, that even the Shammar
were aware that discretion is the better part of valour, and were in
full flight across the desert. Faris pursued only to such a distance as
to lead his foes to believe that he was in earnest, and then, recalling
his men, brought them back to the shadow of the Birs Nimroud.

What astonished the sheik more than anything was the recovery of his own
two horses, which we had lost at the ruins of Katib; and, as Edwards had
foretold long before, he ascribed it to my dealings with magic.

"One thing is certain," said Faris, after he had heard all our
adventures, "and that is that we cannot remain here. Hillah is too near,
and the Turkis are in a restless state just now. Our tents are but four
days' journey away; our riding camels we can reach to-night; the Jews
who have made away with your heart's desire we shall yet reckon with; so
you and the good Hakim shall come once again to the Jelas tents, and we
will start as soon as possible."

"But what shall we do with the sick stranger?" I asked.

"Leave him to the vultures," was the curt reply.

"Great sheik," I said reprovingly, "that was not spoken out of the heart
of Faris-ibn-Feyzul. What if the Englishman who found your wounded
Sedjur had uttered such words?"

"Then what do you wish to do with him?" asked Faris. "You say that he is
too ill to ride, and we must move quickly."

Edwards and I consulted, and, much against my will, I felt bound to act
as he advised. We could not abandon Kellner; to take him away into the
desert would probably kill him; moreover, since Edwards had no medicines
with him, he could do little or nothing for the ailing German, even if
the journey did not prove fatal. On the other hand, Hillah lay only a
few miles away, and the Turkish hospital there was well-equipped. So we
decided that Kellner must be conveyed to Hillah, and as, of course, the
Aeniza would not go near the place, we two would have to accompany him.
Now came the difficulty; to walk was out of the question, Kellner had no
horse, and the horses which we had been riding belonged to Faris, who,
however, was in possession of the two horses which we had brought with
us from Baghdad. In the end, we agreed to lay the matter before the
sheik, and trust to his generosity to help us. At first he was greatly
disappointed at the thought that we proposed to leave him, as he had
intended to give us a grand reception at his headquarters, and he had
hoped that we would have travelled with his people when they moved to
their winter grazing grounds in the Hamad. He argued with us about the
folly of abandoning our search for the Girdle, after all that we had
passed through, and when there was every hope of our obtaining it, but
finding that our minds were made up, and that no words of his would make
us change them, he accepted the inevitable, and acted in a far more
noble manner than we could have expected.

"You shall have your wish," said he, "and some day you will again visit
the Jelas tents, where you will always be truly welcome. I shall send
away to their camp all my men save six, who, with Sedjur and myself,
will ride with you this night to the very walls of the town. There we
shall leave you ere day dawns, when we can gallop away out of danger,
and overtake our camels on the way to the tents."

How grateful we felt to the great man for this fresh mark of friendship
we found it difficult to convey to him in words, and Kellner, on hearing
the news that within twenty-four hours he would be lodged safely in the
hospital at Hillah, sobbed with joy. The glittering spears of the Aeniza
soon passed away over the distant sky-line, and our small party, lying
in a sand hollow, awaited the fall of night.

Almost before it was dark, we set out on what Edwards and I felt was our
return to the world. It was a slow journey, for we moved at a walk, two
of the Bedouins on foot carrying Kellner, who was found to be incapable
of sitting on a horse. But the distance was not great, and, soon after
midnight, we saw the walls of Hillah outlined against the starlit sky.
Faris led us silently to a small date garden, in the corner of which was
a hut, where dwelt an old man, who, he told us, was his friend--or, more
correctly, his paid spy. Entering the hut, the sheik soon found the
owner, sleeping within the doorway, and a conversation of some length
followed. Then a candle was lighted in the inner room, and we were
informed that we could stay there for the remainder of the night.

Making Kellner as comfortable as was possible in a corner of the room,
we received our last instructions from Faris. As soon as the gates of
the town were open, the old man would go and interview the doctor at the
hospital, and relate how three Europeans had found their way during the
night to his house, and that one of them was very ill. In all
probability, a Turkish guard would then be sent out to fetch us in,
after which it would be for us to act as circumstances dictated. More
than that the sheik regretted that he could not arrange. We thanked him
profusely for what he had done for us, and I promised that, if it were
ever possible, I would come to the desert again and pay him a visit. He
made us a present of the two horses, saying that we might require them
to reach Baghdad; and then, to my delight, he lifted up his cloak, and
unfastened my chamois-leather belt from his waist.

"I have worn it for safety," said he, "ever since I returned to my tent
from our ride to the ruins. Your other goods, and those of the Hakim, I
will watch over until we meet again."

"And should we not come again," I answered, "then keep the things in
remembrance of us. There is little of value."

"The money in your belt, O magician," continued Faris, laughing as he
handed it to me, "still remains untouched. Thus again does your magic
recover your long-lost goods. Would that it had brought you Queen
Sophana's Serpent Belt also? But I will find it for you. I will yet
prove that I am worthy of the reward of the great Shahzadi's shoe.
Return to Baghdad, and rest there until a message calls you to the
desert. I say no more. Be patient. Allah is great."

Gripping our hands in silence, the sheik and Sedjur parted from us with
unfeigned grief, and strode out into the darkness. A moment later we
heard a muffled word of command, followed by a clatter of hoofs, and the
party had gone.

Sleep was out of the question. The day's work had been full of incident,
and a dubious morrow was before us. We had much to think over, and many
things to discuss; so, leaving the exhausted Kellner asleep, we went
outside, and sat among the palm trees.

"George," said I, "we are in the last lap. It is a straight run home
now."

"Yes," he replied, "unless something goes wrong. Personally, I am not
altogether sorry, except for your disappointment."

"I suppose the best thing we can do," I remarked, "will be to get away
to Baghdad as soon as possible."

"Of course," said Edwards. "What else can we do?"

"Why, slip back to Faris," I answered, "and have another try for the
Golden Girdle."

"Believe me," said Edwards, "you will do no good with the thing except
through our German friend. He has fought hard for it, and you may rest
assured that he was not fool enough to part with it without being
perfectly certain that he would find it again. Besides, have you not
grasped the fact that it belongs to him. He got it in much the same way
as you meant to get it."

"Not quite," said I, "for he did not play fair with the Shammar who
helped him to get it. If he had paid them what he promised, then I
should certainly agree that he had every right to the Girdle."

"Splitting hairs," said Edwards. "Judging by what we have seen of desert
methods, he who possesses a thing considers himself its rightful
owner--until he loses it. If I were you, I should wait until Kellner
recovers, and then try and come to terms with him."

"I believe you are right, George," I replied. "But, to tell you the
honest truth, I have rather lost faith in the gentleman. In fact, since
this morning my dull wits have been sharpened, and, if I am not very
much mistaken, the German 'shadowed' me all the way from Marseilles to
Baghdad, and got out of me all the information that he required. It
makes me positively sick when I think of it."

"Never mind," said Edwards, consolingly, "it was not your fault. One
cannot go through life in a perpetual state of suspicion of everyone.
You have still got something up your sleeve; for, when you tell your
story, the world will not count Kellner as much of a hero."

For some reason Edwards and I were both in the lowest spirits. I, for my
part, had every cause for being depressed; I had had enough pleasant and
unpleasant experiences to last an ordinary man for his lifetime; my
labours had borne no fruit; I should return to Baghdad without having
effected anything, and, in all probability, my absence would have caused
grave anxiety to my parents. But, perhaps, what troubled me most was the
knowledge that I had been such a fool as to be taken in by Kellner.
Edwards, on the other hand, had, to my mind, very little to complain of.
He had seen more of the desert than almost any European had ever done,
had come through everything without a scratch, and was as fit as he had
been at starting. We had been living a free life for so long, that now
that there was the immediate prospect of our having to conform to the
conventionalities of civilisation, neither of us relished the idea of
the change. That was what was the matter with us; and I believe that if
I had argued with my companion for a little longer, he would have agreed
to leave Kellner to the old man, and have set out with me in search of
Faris. But I restrained my desire to influence Edwards one way or the
other, for my conscience told me that it was our duty to look after our
invalid.

We talked spasmodically until the stems of the date trees gradually
began to stand out against the increasing light in the heavens. Then,
when day had come, the old Arab set out on his mission, while we
returned to the hut to keep the German company. Thus we waited, it may
have been for a couple of hours, occasionally going outside to see if
the expected relief was coming; and at last we saw a party of soldiers
riding towards us, accompanied by men carrying a stretcher.




CHAPTER XIX.

IN CLOVER.


"Gentlemen," said the Turkish officer commanding the party, as he drew
up his men in front of the hut, and addressed us in French, "my
instructions are to have the man who is ill removed to the military
hospital, and to request that you will consider yourselves as my
prisoners, and accompany me to the barracks."

We told him that, of course, we should obey any orders that he gave us,
and at the same time asked him if he knew who we were. To this he
replied that his orders forbade him to converse with us on any subject
whatever, and he begged us to understand that, disagreeable as his duty
was, he was bound to carry out his instructions to the letter. There was
nothing more to be said, and though we were permitted to see that
Kellner was comfortably settled on the stretcher, we were afterwards
ordered to mount our horses, and ride, like real prisoners, in the midst
of the guard.

As we entered the town we soon saw that our capture had been noised
abroad; crowds of Arabs had assembled in the streets to witness our
arrival; but it was evident, from the remarks that we overheard, that
there was a good deal of speculation as to what it all meant. Until that
moment, I had not considered what queer-looking figures we must be, and
when I looked at Edwards and then at my own clothes, I almost laughed
aloud. Each of us wore dirty and ragged Arab garments; our hair was
long and unkempt, and our beards were thick and stubbly. That we were
respectable Englishmen no one would have guessed. Even our own mothers
would have failed to recognise us.

In due course we reached the barrack gate and were admitted, when we
found ourselves within a large quadrangle, where numbers of conscripts
were being drilled. Here we were ordered to dismount, and, our horses
having been led away, we were conducted to a house at the far end of the
quadrangle and shown into a well-appointed room, when the officer told
us that we were to remain there until visited by the Commandant.

As soon as we were alone, Edwards and I looked at one another, and burst
out laughing.

"We are a jolly looking couple," said I.

"Just what I was thinking," said Edwards.

"What do you suppose is going to happen to us?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing much," he replied. "As soon as we have proved our identity,
things will be all right. They seem to have a great many more troops
here than when last we were in the place. I wonder if our old friend,
the Captain who showed us round last time, is still here."

While we were talking, the door was suddenly thrown open, and the
Commandant himself was ushered in. He was a stout and pleasant-looking
old gentleman, with a merry twinkle in his eye, and no sooner did he see
us than he broke into a guffaw, at the same time holding out his hand to
each of us in turn.

"Pardon my laughing," said he, "but, for the life of me, I could not
help it. We will have you washed, and cleaned, and put into respectable
clothes, before you are taken before the Governor. In the meanwhile, now
that we have got you safe inside the barracks, if you like to give me
your word that you will not leave them, I shall be glad if you will
become my guests."

At first we thought that he was amusing himself at our expense, but he
appeared to be in earnest, so we accepted his proffered hospitality,
and were soon enjoying the luxuries of really good coffee and a
cigarette.

"How long, Effendi, have you been in Hillah?" I asked, for the sake of
something to say.

"Barely two weeks," he replied. "We came up with reinforcements for this
place and Meshed Ali, as trouble was expected from the desert."

"Some of the tribes in revolt, I suppose," said I.

"Yes," replied the Commandant, smiling, "but when I have heard you two
gentlemen cross-examined by His Excellency, I shall know more about what
has been going on. Now I will give you a piece of advice: when you are
asked questions, answer straightforwardly, and tell all you know. You
will save us all a vast amount of trouble, and you will not do
yourselves any harm. Of course we have spies everywhere, but we cannot
rely on them entirely, and in any case the views and opinions of two
intelligent Englishmen will be of more value to us than the information
supplied by a hundred Bedouin spies. The Governor is to interview you
this afternoon, and I have no doubt that, before that takes place, you
would like the services of a barber, and would wish to have a bath, and
some European clothes. I daresay we shall be able to provide them for
you."

We were delighted with the turn of events, and agreed to help the
Governor with any information that we were able to give, and we jumped
at the suggestion of cleaning ourselves up. So calling an orderly, the
Commandant told him to conduct us to the bath. There a real surprise
awaited us, for no sooner did we enter the room than we saw Edwards's
Persian servant boy, busying himself with towels and soap.

"What, Aziz!" gasped Edwards, gazing at him in blank astonishment. "How,
in heaven's name, did you get here?"

"Hoozoor," answered the lad, beaming with joy at the sight of his
long-lost master, "I was ordered some days back, to pack clothes for
your highness and the other sahib, and to leave Baghdad with the
dragoman and some zaptiehs, and to come to Hillah. I suffered much on
the road from fear of robbers, who were reported to be numerous, but,
praise be to Allah, we arrived here safely."

"Where is Dimitri Sahib?" asked Edwards.

"He journeyed a few days since to Meshed Ali," said Aziz, "saying that
he went to meet you, and would return with you here."

Then we plied the boy with questions, in the attempt to discover what
rumour had said about us, but we could get no coherent story out of him.
From what we could gather, at first we were supposed to have been
murdered; but, after a time, a report came that we had turned
Mohammedans, and were living with the people of some distant desert
town. But he did not appear to know very much, and he harked back
continuously to what was evidently the most important thing in the
world, viz., that he, Aziz, had braved the perils of the journey from
Baghdad to Hillah--in his eyes as great an event as a pilgrimage to
Mecca. We forgave him, however, for his inability to provide us with
news, chiefly because of the skill that he had displayed in his
selection of the clothes which he thought we would require. He had
forgotten nothing; and it was a real delight to us, after we had passed
through the hands of the barber and revelled in our baths, to get into
true British suits again.

Our toilet completed, we returned, with the patient orderly who had been
waiting for us, to our quarters, where we found the Commandant and
several other officers ready to accompany us to the Governor's audience.
The Commandant looked us up and down with apparent satisfaction, and
then we all marched off. Whether we were still supposed to be prisoners
I could not make out; at any rate, we walked along by the side of the
Commandant, and conversed with him as if we were his oldest friends,
until we reached our destination when everyone suddenly assumed an
official air.

A verbatim report of what took place at the great interview which
followed I shall not attempt to give. I doubt if any shorthand writer
could have done justice to it, for it was what may be described as
unconventional. We were treated by the Governor with the greatest
deference, and we were asked innumerable questions on everything
connected with the desert and the people whom we had come across. The
Aeniza and the Shammar, however, did not interest them much, as they
were regarded, like mosquitoes, as necessary evils. What they wanted
information about was Adiba and the trouble with Hayil, and on this
topic we were considered to be (as indeed we probably were) the best
authorities. Between us, we related our experiences with Ali Khan, and
gave a graphic description of the bombardment of his town and of his
enforced flight, striving to impress upon our listeners that he had been
basely betrayed by his Arab doctors, and that the Amir of Hayil had
behaved in a most high-handed manner. The dropping of the proverbial pin
could have been heard while Edwards gave his account of his treatment of
the sick child, and his description of the way in which he had outwitted
his rival physicians was received with no little applause. Ali Khan
became the hero of the hour, and the tyrant of Hayil was freely cursed.
Many and various were the questions asked us about the road to Adiba,
about the town itself, and about the strength of its defences, and then
we learned that Hayil was in the bad books of the Ottoman Empire, and
that the Turkish troops would probably be ordered to conduct Ali Khan
back to Adiba.

So far we had got on capitally, and had quite enjoyed the interview.
Now, however, the conversation took an awkward turn, and the Governor's
questions became more or less of a personal nature.

"Some four months ago," said our inquisitor, "you two gentlemen were
here, in Hillah. You left the town against the wishes of the Captain of
Police; he, poor man, is no more, but I possess a document signed by
yourselves, and its contents you will probably remember. In it you
stated that you determined to visit certain tribes of the desert, even
although he warned you that to do so might place himself and his
Government in difficulties. What have you to answer on that count?"

"Nothing," I replied, "except that we regret to have been the cause of
any inconvenience to your Government. We were anxious to visit the
Bedouins in their encampments, and we were willing to accept all risk in
so doing."

"Have you considered," continued the Governor, "what has resulted from
your headstrong behaviour? Possibly you may not have given it a thought.
Know, then, that had you not cast yourselves adrift in the desert, all
this trouble with Adiba and Hayil would never have occurred, and my
Government would not now be called upon to expend vast sums of money in
restoring order in those outlying provinces. Think again of the
misfortunes of Ali Khan and of all his people, driven from their homes
into the pitiless desert. Think of those homes, even when the people
once more return to them; many destroyed by shells, many burnt to the
ground, and all pillaged."

We stood before the assembly, with heads hung down, and feeling as
uncomfortable as any pair of naughty schoolboys, while our tormentor,
who was a word-painter of no mean order, continued to lash us with his
tongue. When, at length, he stopped, I took courage and spoke out.

"Your Excellency," I said, humbly, "all that you have said, we
acknowledge to be true, and your condemnation of us appears to be just.
Yet, on more than one occasion, we offered full apologies to our
protector, Ali Khan, for the great troubles that we had brought on
himself and his people; and not only did he freely forgive us
everything, but he even told us that he would not have it otherwise,
since he considered that, had we not visited Adiba, his child would have
died."

"And in return for such generosity," said the Governor, haranguing us
again, "you thought it right, when within a few marches of Meshed Ali,
to desert your kind host, and not only to desert him, but also to
liberate three of his lawful prisoners and to steal five of his horses.
Why you should have acted thus we cannot understand."

The speaker was now wound up, and refused to allow himself to be
interrupted, so we were forced to remain silent and listen to what he
had to say. He told us how, when we first disappeared from Hillah, and
did not return, our escort had proceeded for some distance into the
desert in search of us, but failing to find any trace of us went back to
Baghdad with the news that we had surely perished. The British
Consul-General then induced the authorities to make inquiries about us,
and at last it was reported that we had reached Adiba, and were the
guests of Ali Khan. Subsequently came the news of the downfall of Adiba,
and that we were with the sheik's party in flight towards Meshed Ali.
Naturally it was supposed that we would enter that town with Ali Khan;
and the British Consul-General, having been informed of events,
despatched his dragoman, Dimitri, to meet us and take us back to
Baghdad. As far as he himself was concerned, concluded the Governor, the
matter was at an end; he did not wish to intrude in our private affairs,
as our Consul-General had agreed to hold a full inquiry into our
conduct, which would doubtless form the subject of lengthy negotiations
between the two Governments, in all probability ending in the payment of
full compensation.

"On one point, however," said he, "I am anxious for information: the
sick man whom you brought with you. How did you meet with him?"

"We found him yesterday," I replied, "close to the Birs Nimroud, and he
seemed so ill that we abandoned our intention of journeying to Baghdad,
in order to bring the man to your hospital."

"He shall be properly attended to," said the Governor, "and for what he
has done he will have to account later on."

We were not sorry when the call to evening prayer closed the interview,
and the Governor, shaking hands with us, consigned us to the care of the
Commandant. With the latter we returned to the barracks, and on the way
learned that we were to be on parole, until the dragoman should take
charge of us. Our restraint was not very irksome, for the Commandant and
other officers went out of their way to make themselves agreeable to us,
and were evidently proud of having the opportunity of making the
acquaintance of men who had penetrated so far into the desert. How much
more interested they would have been, if they had known the whole story
of our wanderings!

That night Edwards and I talked matters over, and I found that he was
wretchedly down-hearted about the future. If things were really as bad,
he argued, as the Governor had made out, it was all up with him and his
appointment. The Consul-General would, of course, refuse to let him
return to duty at Baghdad, and though he might possibly be ordered to
India to assume medical charge of a native regiment, the chances were
that he had already been either cashiered, or removed from the service
for absence without leave.

"As to you," he said, "you have nothing to lose, since you do not hold
any official appointment; and you do not understand what it may mean to
me to be thrown on the world, without anything to do."

He was so doleful about it all, that he positively made me laugh.

"There is always Adiba," I said. "Ali Khan will take you back with him
as physician in ordinary, I am sure, if you ask him nicely."

But he was not to be comforted; and thinking it advisable to leave him
alone, I went outside and paced up and down in the moonlight. While thus
occupied, I encountered the Commandant, who had just returned from
dining with the Governor, and was coming to see us on important
business. I told him that my companion was not feeling well and had
already gone to bed; so he unburdened his mind to me. Our escapades had
been the subject of discussion at the Governor's dinner party, and the
end of it was that the Governor had decided that, as Dimitri had not yet
been informed of our arrival at Hillah, we should be sent to Meshed Ali
and be handed over to him there. It struck me at once as a somewhat
strange proceeding, because Meshed Ali and Baghdad lay on opposite sides
of Hillah, and there seemed to be no reason for sending us off on a
three days' journey and bringing us back again. But on my remarking on
this to the Commandant, I was told that the Governor considered that we
should be given the opportunity of renewing our friendship with Ali
Khan, and of explaining to him why we had deserted him. We were to start
early in the morning, and the Commandant himself would accompany us. I
expressed myself as delighted at the idea of a visit to Meshed Ali, and
of once again seeing Ali Khan; and after arranging that we would be
ready to set out soon after daybreak, I bade the Commandant
"good-night," and went off to break the news to Edwards. To my surprise,
he seemed quite agreeable to fall in with the new plan, saying that the
sooner he met Dimitri, the better pleased he should be, as he was
anxious to find out how he stood with the Consul-General.

Our ride to Nejf, or Meshed Ali, was a three days' picnic; we had
everything that we could want, a large escort, the companionship of the
cheery Commandant, the services of a cook who served up excellent
dinners, and Edwards's boy, Aziz, to wait upon us. Even Edwards forgot
his sorrows, and agreed with me that we were being treated right
royally.

"I suppose it will all go down in the bill," said he.

"What bill?" I asked.

"Why, the matter of the compensation to which the Governor referred--the
cost of all our evil deeds," said Edwards.

"Let us live in the present," said I, "and eat and drink all the good
things that we can. What is the use of worrying about the future, and
about such a hopeless thing as compensation? When nations begin to
discuss compensation, it means thousands, if not millions, of pounds.
How do you imagine that anyone is going to squeeze a paltry thousand
pounds, or even a hundred pounds, out of two such paupers as you and me?
My worldly possessions consist of the fifty golden sovereigns in my
salvaged money-belt, and they really belong to my uncle. So away with
dull care, and let the future look after itself."

"Excellent advice in theory," said Edwards. "However, I will try it for
a bit, and will be ever so jovial."

"Good man!" said I. "By the way, I wonder how that poor unfortunate
Kellner is getting on. Do you suppose we shall be able to take him to
Baghdad with us?"

"I should think not," said Edwards; "besides, he is much better off
where he is. I expect that the man in charge of the hospital knows quite
as much about his business as I do, and the long journey to Baghdad
would probably throw the patient back, and as likely as not kill him."

"Then," said I, "I think I shall try and stay at Hillah for a week or
two."

"What on earth for?" asked Edwards.

"To look after Kellner," I replied.

"What possible good do you think you can do him?"

"He might want to ease his mind," said I, laughing. "People do have
things on their mind sometimes, when they are sick. He might wish to
tell me, for instance, what has become of the Golden Girdle."

"Still that old, old story," said my companion sadly. "Surely you and
your Will-o'-the-wisp have done enough harm already. The words of wisdom
which we heard in Hillah the other day do not seem to have made much
impression on you."

"Water off a duck's back, old man," I replied. "When I have laid
Sophana's Serpent Belt at the feet of my uncle, then will I repent of
all my sins, and be good for ever afterwards."




CHAPTER XX.

RE-UNION.


We were both quite excited at the idea of meeting Dimitri, and hearing
all the news of the world. We had been cut off from everything for more
than four months, and had not had a single letter, or a scrap of
information of any sort. We speculated as to whether the dragoman would
have brought our English letters up with him, and we wondered what sort
of a reception the Consul-General would have told him to give us. We
could not imagine the obsequious Dimitri being anything but polite, and
we knew, of course, that, of himself, he could have no authority over
us. We presumed that he had been sent up with an order, or a message, or
a letter from the Consul-General, and our presumption proved to be
correct. No sooner did we pass through the gate of the town than we met
the dragoman, clothed in his best blue serge suit, and wreathed in
smiles.

"Here we are again, Dimitri," said Edwards, greeting him heartily. "I
suppose you thought that we were lost. We are very sorry to have given
you this long journey."

"I am truly delighted," replied Dimitri, "to see you two gentlemen
again, safe and well. The Consul-General ordered me to convey an
important letter to you, and to return with you to Baghdad."

"Where is the letter?" asked Edwards.

"I have it," said the dragoman, "at my lodgings, and I shall hand it to
you as soon as I have seen you accommodated in suitable quarters."

Having paid his respects to the Commandant, with whom he appeared to
have business to discuss, Dimitri came and walked by our sides as we
rode through the streets of Nejf, pointing out to us the great golden
shrine of Ali, and the other buildings of importance. He told us much
news, but, to our great disappointment, we learned that he had brought
with him neither letters nor newspapers; and he confided to Edwards that
he was afraid that there was trouble in store for us.

The next excitement was the Consul-General's letter to Edwards, which
was brought to him soon after we had settled down in the room allotted
to us. Dismissing Dimitri, with a request that he would come and see us
again at sunset, Edwards nervously broke the seal of the letter, and
read its contents to himself. I watched his face as he read; at first
pale and serious, it presently flushed crimson, and the puckered
forehead gradually grew smooth, then came a deep-drawn sigh of relief,
and I knew that things were not as bad as Edwards had expected them to
be.

"Would you like to read it?" asked Edwards, handing me the letter. "It
is marked 'Private and confidential,' but I do not suppose that there is
any harm in your seeing it. You will not mind his abusing you a bit, I
am sure."

I took the letter, and read it through. It was of considerable length,
and began by severely reprimanding Edwards in strong official terms,
after which the Consul-General appeared to have laid aside his wrath,
for the remainder of the epistle might have been written by one friend
to another. He hoped that we had made good use of our opportunities, and
would be able to add to the world's knowledge of the desert. He even
expressed his admiration of our pluck in having lived for so long in the
wilds; and, except that in one sentence I was alluded to as "that
crack-brained treasure-seeker," there was nothing in the letter with
which I could quarrel. Towards the end, however, he had evidently read
over what he had written, and perhaps repented of having said so much;
for he added a postscript, which ran as follows:--

     "Do not imagine from the above that I am not annoyed with you both.
     I am intensely annoyed, and at present I do not see how the matter
     is going to end. I am unwilling to judge you until I have heard
     your own explanation. I beg that you will inform Mr Henderson that
     I request that he will be good enough to accompany you and Mr
     Dimitri to Baghdad forthwith."

"Well," said Edwards, anxiously, when I had finished reading, "what do
you think?"

"I think," I replied, "that your chief is a gentleman, and, though he
may think me a hopeless idiot, you may be quite certain that he will see
you through any difficulties that may arise."

"I am glad that that is your opinion," said Edwards. "The letter has
certainly made me feel happier."

"After all," said I, "we have done nothing extraordinarily sinful or
foolish. The Turkish Government gave me a _firman_, which was
practically a passport to go where I pleased. We were certainly advised
by the police captain, poor chap, not to go into the desert from Hillah,
but that was only so that he might not get mixed up in a row himself. If
he had thought that there was any real harm in our going to visit Faris,
he would not have lent us a guide to put us on our way. The one mistake
we made was not coming back that first day, when we found that the
Turkish police were after Faris. From that moment we were done. We never
had a chance of returning until now. And we have returned; what more can
they want? There is the whole business, placed comfortably in a
nutshell."

As I concluded my address, Dimitri knocked at the door, and we were soon
informed of the programme that had been arranged for us. Next morning,
our friend the Commandant was to pay a state visit to the Governor of
Adiba, who was in camp on the other side of the water, and we were to go
with him. It now transpired that the object of our having been sent to
Nejf was not so much to be handed over to Dimitri, as to be confronted
with Ali Khan. The authorities, apparently, had a sort of suspicion that
we had not played a square game with Ali Khan, and the Commandant was to
investigate the matter. Directly our visit was over, we were to start
for Baghdad by the direct route, passing some miles to the west of
Hillah, and Dimitri hoped that we should reach our destination within
four days. The programme seemed to us a most satisfactory one, for our
consciences were quite clear about Ali Khan, whom we felt certain we
could convince that our disappearance from his camp had been not only
unpremeditated but also undesired by us. I, personally, was a little
disappointed that we should not return to Hillah, as I would have liked
a talk with Kellner; but, after what the Consul-General had said in his
letter, I thought it best to accept the situation, and get back to
Baghdad as soon as possible.

At an early hour next day we rode out with much pomp and ceremony, round
the shores of the Sea of Nejf, to the Adiba encampment, and were met
halfway by Haroun and his brave men. He did not recognise us in our
European clothes, and doubtless thought that we were two inquisitive
Englishmen bent on sight-seeing; while we, fearing to upset
arrangements, considered it best to restrain our desire to make
ourselves known to him. Ali Khan received the Commandant in front of his
tent, and, after the customary compliments had been paid, the latter
requested us to come forward and be introduced.

"I have brought with me, your Excellency," said the Commandant,
addressing Ali Khan, with much solemnity, "two English gentlemen who are
desirous of renewing your acquaintance. This one tells me that he was
at one time your court physician, the other your chief military
adviser."

I do not know what Edwards's feelings were, but I, at that moment, would
have been quite pleased if the earth had suddenly opened and swallowed
me up. The abrupt manner in which we were, so to speak, flung at Ali
Khan's head was disagreeable in the extreme, and he himself was so taken
aback, that for some little time he could do nothing but stare at us
open-mouthed. There was an awful silence, and nobody seemed inclined to
break it, until, at last, feeling that I could stand it no longer, and
observing that Edwards (as was his wont when things were going
unpleasantly) was signing to me to say something, I stepped forward and
spoke.

"Great sheik," I said, "what the Effendi has said is true. We have come
to offer an explanation in connection with a matter which we fear has
caused you trouble and pain. We have come to seek your pardon; for I
doubt not you have been under the impression that, considering the
kindness and hospitality which you always showed to us, we behaved
ungratefully and basely towards you, when we deserted your camp some few
days ago. Your knowledge of us is not slight, and you must have found it
difficult to believe that two men of honour--as you knew us to be--would
have released your prisoners, stolen your horses, and deserted you. Yet
that is, doubtless, what you did believe, and do, even now, believe.
Now, I declare to you, before Allah, that of our own accord we did none
of these things."

I then proceeded to describe fully and graphically how we had been
carried off by the Shammar, and the miserable journey that we had been
forced to take. I did not think it necessary, or desirable, to enter
into details about Kellner and the Golden Girdle, so I merely said that
we had eventually ridden away from the Shammar on two of the horses
which had been stolen from his camp, that we had now brought these
horses with us, and that we wished to return them to him. I concluded
by congratulating him on the prospect of his speedy restoration to his
kingdom, and expressed a hope that his little son was still enjoying
good health.

My speech made an immense impression, not only on Ali Khan, Haroun, and
the rest of the Adiba party, but also on the Commandant and his escort;
and when I had finished, our two old friends, shaking off all
formalities, seized Edwards and myself by the hands, and overwhelmed us
with expressions of joy at our safety, and of regret at ever having
doubted us. Though pleasant, the _denouement_ was decidedly
embarrassing; for the Adiba men crowded round us with offers of
congratulation, and we were only saved from being carried off our feet
in the frantic rush of enthusiasm by Ali Khan's prompt action in leading
us to the inner apartment of his tent, to be welcomed by his wife and
their beloved boy. Their delight at again seeing us was most gratifying,
and they were truly sorry when they learned that we were not returning
with them to Adiba. Ali Khan and his wife did all in their power to
persuade us to accompany them; but finding that it was a matter of
honour that we should return to Baghdad, they made us promise that,
should it ever be possible, we would pay a long visit to Adiba, and see
the place settled down again in peace and plenty, as they hoped that it
would soon be.

The time was all too short, for we had to return to Nejf, and thence
ride, some fifteen miles, to the nearest khan before dusk. We therefore
prepared to take leave of our friends, and I asked Ali Khan's permission
to use his two horses for the return journey to Nejf, promising that we
would send them back to his camp by sundown.

"Nay," said the sheik, "I have horses enough, and I beg that you will
accept them from me. Take them back with you to Baghdad, to remind you
of your promise to visit us at Adiba."

With expressions of gratitude from both of us, with many handshakes and
last words of parting, we at length mounted our horses and joined the
escort, which had been long waiting for us. Edwards and I rode in
silence for some distance; I fancy that we had similar feelings--a
decided lumpiness about the throat. Edwards spoke first.

"I had no idea," said he, "that the desert possessed men like Ali Khan.
I always thought that all the big rulers were stony-hearted tyrants, who
only made themselves agreeable to Europeans for what they could get out
of them."

"Dear old Ali Khan has not derived much benefit from us," I answered.

"On the contrary," said Edwards, "we have been a dead loss to him. And
he finishes up by giving us two horses."

"These two old horses," said I, "make me laugh. They are becoming rather
a stale present. Within the last week they have been given to us no less
than three times, first by the Shammar sheik, then by Faris, and now by
Ali Khan."

"Well," said Edwards, "I hope that this time we shall keep them, and
take them safely back to Baghdad."

Arrived at our quarters in Nejf, we packed up our belongings, and were
off again in half an hour, the Commandant seeing us for about a mile on
our road, and then bidding us a friendly farewell. In order to make
certain that we should not get lost again, he gave us an escort of
twenty irregular cavalry, and I firmly believe, although Dimitri denied
it, that they had instructions not to let us out of their sight until we
had entered the courtyard of the Residency at Baghdad. At any rate,
during our uneventful journey of the next four days, they were always
about us, and on reaching the city, their sergeant requested the
Consul-General to give him a letter practically amounting to a receipt
for us.

What the Consul-General said to us, and what we said to him, are things
best left untold. Suffice it to say, therefore, that at the conclusion
of the interview, we still found ourselves alive. Moreover, on that
night, and on many subsequent nights, we were the great man's guests at
dinner.

After the life I had been leading, the humdrum existence in the city
soon began to pall on me. I had, within a few days, seen everything that
there was to be seen, and I grew tired of morning and evening canters
outside the walls, and of trying to make the round wicker-work _kufas_
go straight up and down the river. I longed to be back in the free
desert, and one day, more out of fun than anything else, I suggested to
Edwards that we should pay our promised visit to Adiba. He looked at me
for a minute, as if he doubted my sanity.

"What you want," said he, "is sea air. You will never be quite right
until you have taken a voyage."

"That does not sound very hospitable," said I, "considering that only
yesterday you begged me to stay with you as long as I could."

"Yesterday," said Edwards, "I did not know that you were so unwell."

"To tell you the honest truth," said I, "I am sick to death of this
life, and if Faris does not let me have some news of the Golden Girdle
soon, I shall chuck the whole thing and go home."

"You do not mean to say," said Edwards, "that you are still building
castles in the air."

"No," said I, "not in the air, I hope. But if you mean that you want to
know whether I am still thinking of Queen Sophana's belt, I will break
it to you gently that, much as I love you, George, nothing earthly would
have induced me to hang about here for the last six weeks, unless I had
been in daily expectation of getting news either from Faris or from
Kellner."

"Then take my advice," said my friend, "and give it up. Kellner, from
what the Turkish doctor wrote to me the other day, is too ill to trouble
about anything. Faris, I expect, has got other fish to fry. Besides, I
believe he is in mortal terror of that Girdle. In any case, even if you
did receive news from the desert, you could not go romping about there
again."

"Oh, great wet blanket!" I answered, "have you no soul? Wait till I lay
out before you, on that very table, the string of twisty-twirly golden
serpents!"

"I cannot wait so long, old man," said Edwards irritatingly.
"Unfortunately, I shall have to die, like other people."

"Then I suppose," I said, putting out a feeler, "when I go off on my
next hunt, you will let me go alone."

"On that point," he replied, "you can be absolutely certain. Nothing
that you or anyone else could say would ever persuade me to go on
another wild-goose chase with you. Why, the Turks are still saying nasty
things about us, and worrying my chief to death."

"That," said I, "is all bluster. Hillah's Governor tried it on when he
talked so grandly about compensation. I happen to have discovered from
Dimitri that there never was, at any time, any idea of compensation. The
mistake I made was getting a _firman_. I shall make my next trip without
one."

"By the way," said Edwards, changing the subject, "did I ever tell you
the result of the inquiry after Kellner's Baghdad merchant--I mean the
man who, Daud or somebody told us, was going to pay the Shammar for the
Girdle?"

"No," said I, "the last news I heard was that he had cleared out of this
place, bag and baggage, and no one knew what had become of him."

"Well," said Edwards, "he has been seen in the bazaar at Kerbela."

"Then I suppose that he and Kellner have got some deep scheme in hand
again," I said; "but, for the life of me, I cannot fathom it."

"Do not bother about it," said Edwards. "Believe me, Kellner has not got
a scheme in him at present."

       *       *       *       *       *

About a week after this conversation had taken place, though many
similar ones had intervened, there fell in the midst of my dull
existence a very bomb of excitement, whose sudden explosion well-nigh
rent me in twain.




CHAPTER XXI.

A DESPERATE PLUNGE.


Whilst I was living in Baghdad, I used to amuse myself by a daily visit
to the bazaar, overhauling the _antikas_ and other wares of the Jew
dealers, and to save myself the unpleasantness of being mobbed by a
crowd of Arab boys, on these occasions I dressed in simple Persian
garments. The shop people, of course, knew who I was, but I mingled with
the crowd without attracting attention. On the particular day of which I
am writing, I noticed, as I walked about the bazaar, that I was being
followed from place to place by a ruffianly-looking Arab, who, whenever
I stopped to look at a stall, always seemed to be at my elbow. I began
to be a little nervous about him, thinking that possibly he might be a
fanatic, who, having returned from a pilgrimage to the Holy Shrines, and
having discovered that I was an unbeliever, thought to ensure his entry
into Paradise by putting a knife into me. At last I stopped, turned on
him suddenly, and asked him what he wanted. He was so taken aback, that
without offering a reply, he bolted into the crowd, and disappeared.

A little later I left the bazaar, and strolled along the narrow lanes
towards Edwards's house. As I was nearing home, I heard footsteps
behind, and glancing over my shoulder, saw that my supposed Arab fanatic
was running after me. Thinking that I should have to fight, and seeing
nobody else about, I stepped back against the wall, and prepared to
make the best use of my heavy stick.

"Master," said the man, as he drew near, "it is you who were with Sheik
Faris in the desert; is it not so?"

"Yes," I replied, "I am that man. Why do you follow me about?"

"I was told," said he, "that you would be in the bazaar, but I could not
be certain that I had found you. I did not recognise you with the hair
absent from your face, and in those clothes."

"But why are you so anxious to find me?" I asked.

"I have come," said the Arab, "from Sheik Faris, who bade me seek you
out with all haste, and tell you, in secret, certain words."

"What were they?" I inquired, excitedly.

"I know not their meaning," he replied, "but the words Sheik Faris spoke
to me were these: 'Go tell the Hakim's friend that _snakes which do
poison mankind cower before the eye of the magician; that winged snakes
drop their wings at the sound of his coming; and that the shoe of a
desert-born mare must needs have a desert home_.' Thus spoke Sheik
Faris-ibn-Feyzul; I have said it."

I knew what it all meant. This was the message which I had eagerly
awaited for many weeks. Faris, brave Faris, had secured the Golden
Girdle for me, but he evidently intended that I should go and get it. I
wondered why he had not sent it. It would, I thought, have simplified
matters considerably.

"Sheik Faris," I asked, "sent, by you, nothing for me?"

"No," answered the man.

"Did he not give you any other message?" I inquired.

"I was to tell the Beg," said he, "that when the moon rises to-night,
three Aeniza, with a spare horse, will be on the western bank of the
river, opposite the great ruins of Ctesiphon, and will there await you
until daybreak to-morrow. The howl of the hyæna repeated three times
will cause them to make known their presence."

"It is well," said I, and giving the Arab a keran to spend in the
bazaar, I dismissed him.

Hurrying home as fast as I was able, with steps as light as air, I
bounded up the stairs to break the news to Edwards. He was out, and on
the table I found a note addressed to me. I tore it open, and read the
hasty pencil scrawl, which ran as follows:--

     DEAR WALTER,--

     Just had a message from the C.-G., saying he is very ill at Mosul.
     Has sent the launch down for me. Do not expect me back for at least
     a week. If I am detained longer, I will drop you a line. Mind you
     do not start for home before I come back. So long,

     Yours

     G. E.

       *       *       *       *       *

Calling a servant, I asked when his master had left, and was told that
the launch had gone up the river about an hour before. Utterly knocked
out of time by this unexpected turn of events, I sank into a chair, and
endeavoured to think out the situation. Something had to be done, and
done quickly. Nothing should prevent my reaching the rendezvous opposite
Ctesiphon that night. On that point I was determined. I would get the
Golden Girdle without saying anything to anyone, and with luck I might
be able to lay it in front of Edwards on his return from up-river. What
a grand surprise it would be for him, and how I should crow over him!
After all, it was rather a good thing, I thought, that both Edwards and
the Consul-General were away from Baghdad; otherwise they might have
interfered with my movements. I was, at anyrate, free to do as I
pleased. But how I was to cover the fifty miles to the spot where I was
to meet the Aeniza I could not decide. It was already two o'clock; I had
about four hours of daylight I could order my horse and say I was going
for an afternoon ride, then make straight for Ctesiphon. It was a long
journey to accomplish on one horse in four hours, and I had never
followed the road before. If I did not succeed in reaching the ruins
before dark, I doubted if I should ever reach them, and even if I
succeeded, I still had to cross to the opposite bank of the river. I
should have to swim it--there was no other means of crossing. I did not
like the idea. Then I thought I would cross the river by the Baghdad
bridge, and try to find my way to the appointed place by following the
right bank of the river. That, however, I abandoned as hopeless, for I
was acquainted with no road on that side of the river. My next idea was
to hire a _kufa_, and paddle away down stream. It would not be a very
great undertaking, as I could certainly cover six or eight miles an hour
by simply drifting, which would bring me to my destination well before
break of day. There was only one thing against this plan: I was not at
all sure that, being at such a little height above the water-level, I
should be able to identify landmarks. There would be a good moon, I
knew, and I had been to Ctesiphon by water once or twice from Baghdad.
It was a risky undertaking, but I did not see what else I could do. All
at once a sudden inspiration came to me. I leapt from my chair, rushed
across the room, and hunted among my papers for the river steamer
time-table. At last I found it, and, as I had hoped, discovered that
this was the day that one of the steamers left Baghdad for Bussorah.
Nervously I ran my finger along the line to learn the hour of departure,
and when my eyes fell on the announcement "4 P.M.," I could have shouted
for joy.

I had a couple of hours to make arrangements, though there were few to
make. Still, certain matters had to be worked out. In the first place, I
had qualms of conscience about going off without telling anyone, and I
began to think that I had better take Dimitri, the dragoman, into my
confidence. But I was afraid to trust him, as I thought that perhaps he
would consider it his duty to frustrate my plan. Then I could not make
up my mind whether to disguise myself as a native, and take a deck
passage; or whether to go on board with a bag, and book first-class to
Bussorah. My difficulty was that the captain of the steamer was a
well-known member of the small English community in Baghdad, and a
personal friend of mine. In either case, whether I shipped as a native
or as myself, I should have to slip overboard when approaching
Ctesiphon, and swim ashore, and in either case I should have to deceive
my friend the captain. I hated the idea; but I came to the conclusion
that, as a desperate man, I must bury my conscience for the time being.
To fail now would probably be to throw away the opportunity of a
lifetime. I would tell as few lies as possible, and trust that some day
I might be able to make reparation for my evil doings.

My plan matured, I immediately set to work to collect a few odds and
ends to fill my bag, fastened it up, called my boy, and sent him down to
the steamer with it, at the same time giving him a note for the purser,
in which I asked for a cabin to Bussorah. Having taken the first step, I
felt easier in my mind, and telling Edwards's servants that I was going
for a trip down the river, and should be away for a few days, I strolled
leisurely down to the wharf, and went on board the steamer. From that
moment I forgot my conscience altogether. I told the captain that, as
Edwards had been called away to Mosul, and as I did not care about my
own society, I had decided to spend the time in running down to
Bussorah. He expressed himself as delighted to have my company, and I
settled myself in my cabin, as if I really intended to remain on board
for three or four days. We were a little late in getting off, but I knew
that an hour or two would not affect my plans, as, even steaming in the
dark, we ought to be off Ctesiphon within six hours or so of our
departure from the city.

There being no other first-class passengers, I dined alone with the
captain, and, aware that it might be my last respectable meal for some
days, I made the most of it, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Afterwards,
we sat long on the upper deck, outside the captain's cabin, discussing
many things, and watching the reflections of the bright moon in the
river. I began to grow anxious about the time, and a little nervous
about the part I was shortly to play. I was a strong swimmer, but even
with that knowledge I did not relish the prospect of plunging overboard
and making for the shore. I confess that it required every scrap of
courage that I possessed, and for a moment my courage almost failed me.

"You are very silent," said the captain, after a long pause in the
conversation, "are you getting sleepy?"

"I suppose I must be," I replied. "I expect it is about time to turn in.
Whereabouts are we?"

"Getting near Ctesiphon," he answered. "We ought to pass it in about
half an hour. I must get on to the bridge, as we are coming to rather a
tricky bit of channel."

"Then I shall retire to my cabin," said I. We wished each other
"Good-night," and I went down the companion to the lower deck. I had
previously inspected the situation of everything most carefully. The
first-class accommodation was in the stern of the steamer; the saloon in
the centre, cabins on either side of the saloon, with a narrow gangway
between the cabin doors and the taffrail. My cabin was on the starboard
side, and I had only to walk out of the door, take one step, vault the
taffrail, and so into the river. In the daylight it seemed quite simple,
but now, as the time for action was at hand, I had many misgivings. The
steamer had twin screws, and I was afraid that, if I dropped over the
side, I should be caught by the screw before I managed to get clear
away. I hastened to the stern of the vessel, and examined the water
carefully. The screws churned it horribly. Still, I thought that my
best chance would be here, as by stepping out on to the anchor, which
lay on the extremity of deck, and then diving well away, I might succeed
in finding my way into slack water. There was no one about; the captain
and the steersman were both on the bridge, and would, of course, be
intent on looking ahead. The time was slipping by, and I ran up the
companion to get a better view of the country from the upper deck. I
thought I recognised the beginning of the bend in the river close to
Ctesiphon. I had forgotten about this bend, but now I knew that it would
be all in my favour. Certain now of our whereabouts, I dropped down to
the lower deck, and made for the anchor. We were well in the bend and
only a few yards from the right bank of the river; moreover, the
starboard screw was barely revolving. Now or never, I thought, and
clenching my teeth, I stretched out my hands, and made a frantic dive in
the direction of the land. So close was the steamer to the bank at the
moment I left it, that in half a dozen strokes I found my feet touching
bottom, and I was soon lying among the bushes, and watching the steamer
continuing its way round the bend.

I took some minutes to pull myself together; in fact, I sat there
looking after the disappearing vessel, until I could see nothing but the
smoke rising up from the funnel. Then my nerves began to trouble me. My
teeth chattered, and I shivered and shook as if I had a violent attack
of ague. I could not make up my mind to move, and I wondered whether I
had not made an arrant fool of myself. I had met a perfect stranger in
the bazaar, and had come here by his instructions. It was true, that if
the man were an impostor, desiring to lure me to this spot with the
object of robbing and possibly murdering me, he had worked up his plan
with great skill; and I did not think that anyone could have invented
the message from Faris. Yet, I did not feel altogether happy about it.
Then I thought of what an amount of bother I should give to the captain
of the steamer. My absence probably would not be discovered until
breakfast time next morning, when, of course, it would be thought that I
had fallen overboard accidentally, or had committed suicide. However, I
argued with myself that, having taken the fatal plunge, it was useless
sitting shivering by the side of the river in a state of inaction; so I
got up and struggled through the scrub towards higher ground, eventually
reaching a low mound. Here I crouched down, and putting both hands to my
mouth, as I had once seen Sheik Faris do, I gave forth a long piercing
hyæna call. The whole thing seemed so uncanny, that I shuddered at my
own voice. I repeated the howl again, and after a slight interval yet
again.

I listened intently, and thought that I heard an answering call in the
far distance. Presently there came the unmistakable cry a little nearer,
and, before many seconds had passed, dismal howls appeared to echo all
around me. In my excitement I stood up and shouted, and almost at the
same time I noticed that there were men and horses quite close to me.

"Where are you?" called out one of the men in Arabic.

"Here, on the hillock in front of you," I replied.

I waited a little, while one of the men picked his way towards me; and,
as he drew near, I called to him, asking if he had come from Sheik
Faris. The only reply that I received was a joyous laugh, and the next
moment Sedjur stood by my side. That meeting, so unexpected, was well
worth all the trouble that it had cost. Life was full of roses once
again, and we stood there talking for, I should think, a good half hour.
He could not understand how I had come, as he had expected that I would
have ridden from Baghdad, and when I told him what I had done, his
admiration knew no bounds.

"It is good that you arrived so early," said he, at last, "for we can
now get well on our journey before daylight comes. I have brought some
of our desert clothes for you to wear, as you have done before; and my
father has sent you one of Kushki's own sons for you to ride."

I thanked him for forgetting nothing; flung my bundle of saturated
clothes across my saddle, mounted my horse, and, a true Bedouin in
appearance, followed close behind the three long, waving spears. The
smell of the desert, after my sojourn in the town, was good indeed; and,
though I had had no sleep, and ought to have been dead tired, I felt
fresh, and fit for any exertion. I had, of course, asked Sedjur for news
of the Golden Girdle, but all that he would say was that his father did
not wish the matter discussed until he had seen me; and Sedjur begged
that I would not speak about it until we reached the camp. Thus, to my
disappointment, I was left, throughout our long ride, in ignorance of
the state of affairs.

As far as I could judge by the stars, from our starting-point we rode
north-west, scarcely ever deviating from our course during that night;
and, crossing the pilgrim route from Baghdad to Kerbela some time before
there was any sign of dawn, struck the Euphrates, as Sedjur told me,
thirty miles or more above the latter town. After fording the river, we
kept along the right bank for the remainder of the day, at nightfall
halting at a small village, whose inhabitants were old friends of our
party, and who did their best to make us comfortable. My prompt answer
to his father's summons had evidently made a great impression on Sedjur,
who confessed to me, when we talked that night, that he never expected
me to come; that, in fact, he had tried to dissuade Faris from sending
him on what he considered would be a fruitless mission.

"How much farther have we to go?" I asked.

"When two more suns have set," said Sedjur, "we should be near the
encampment. We shall get on to the Damascus road early to-morrow, and
then there will be little difficulty."

"That is good news," said I, "for, as you are aware, I cannot ride long
distances for many days together."

"If I were to tell you," laughed Sedjur, "that we were to ride day and
night all the way to Damascus, you would not complain. You forget that
you have lived in our tents, and that my father and I know you perhaps
better than you know yourself."

It was pleasant to think that my friends had such a high opinion of me,
though I hoped that they would not try me too severely. I did not mind a
long day in the saddle, if it were all straightforward going, but our
ride of this day and of the two following days was a perpetual anxiety.
There were only four of us, and we had to be continuously on the
look-out for prowling bands of hostile tribes. Fighting was out of the
question; all that we could do was to avoid everyone whom we saw, and to
trust to the speed of our horses, if pursued. But we were particularly
fortunate, for only once were we really troubled, and then, though
followed for some distance, we showed our pursuers that their horses
were no match for ours. Still, always having to be on the _qui vive_,
like driving a shying horse, is most tiring work; and I was glad enough
when, soon after daylight on the fourth day, Sedjur suddenly shouted to
me, "Behold our tents!"




CHAPTER XXII.

BROTHERS AND CONSPIRATORS.


Great was the excitement in the encampment when we were seen to be
approaching; some sixty or seventy horsemen, headed by Faris, galloped
out to meet us, and wheeling round in front of us, performed a
_fantasia_ for my benefit all the way into camp. Then everyone turned
out to greet me, and my reception was royal, Faris leading me by the
hand to his tent, and paying me the greatest honour. I could see at once
that his pleasure at my arrival was genuine; for, as he said, he and I
had been in peril together, and had seen stranger things than had any
two men of his acquaintance, and though we had met for a few hours
outside Hillah, he never had had the opportunity of welcoming me to his
tents, since the time of our adventures at the ruins of Katib. He would
have it that I had saved his life and that of Sedjur on two occasions,
first when I and Edwards gave ourselves up to the Governor of Adiba, and
allowed him and his son to escape; and secondly, when at the Birs
Nimroud, I had warned him of the Shammar lying in ambush. In vain I
tried to persuade him that I had done nothing out of the common; in his
eyes I was a hero; and, I think, still a little bit of a magician,
though he did not rally me on this point.

"Well, now, Sheik of Sheiks," I said, after we had settled down to our
pipes in private, "what news of the serpent belt?"

"Much," he answered, "and strange."

"Have you, then, secured it?" I asked.

"Nay!" he replied, "not yet. But it is yours to take when you will."

"How so?" said I.

"It is a long story," said the sheik, "but I will make it as short as
possible. After leaving you that night at Hillah, we returned to our
men, and immediately we scoured the whole country, in order to find
those two Jews who had carried away the belt, as the sick Ingleezee at
the Birs Nimroud had told us. We tracked them to Kerbela, and I sent a
message to them with a request that they would meet me at a certain time
outside the town, near the bridge, promising them gold for their
trouble, well knowing that without some reward they would never come.
They kept their appointment--the two of them--thinking that I had
intended to compensate them for having destroyed their dwelling at the
Birs Nimroud, of which event they had somehow heard. I paid them a
little money, and promised them more if they would permit me to see the
golden belt which the sick Ingleezee had bidden them carry away. They
vouchsafed that they knew nothing of such a thing; but, unwittingly, one
of them inquired how much I would give. I replied that if they would
sell me the belt I would pay them 2000 kerans. Then the two men
incontinently wept and tore their beards, saying that they would
willingly have accepted the price I offered, had it not been that they
had been robbed of it by a party of Shammar soon after they had left the
Birs Nimroud. They told me, when I had paid them a few more kerans, who
the Shammar were. It was the same band whose members had stolen the belt
from Raspul on that memorable night, and with whom you are well
acquainted. So those men are in possession of the twice-stolen treasure,
and we know where they have their tents, not five days' journey from
this."

"Then," said I, overjoyed at the news, "the Golden Girdle is indeed
mine. If you will show me the way to the Shammar camp, I shall purchase
the belt from them for the value which I know they attach to it. They
themselves told me that their reward was to be 5000 kerans."

"Why waste this money," said Faris, "when the golden serpents can be had
for nothing. Sedjur and I have laid our plans, and, ere half a moon, we
shall hand you that which you desire. Then shall the name of
Faris-ibn-Feyzul be made known to those who keep the big house wherein
lies Shahzadi's shoe. It is a small undertaking to surround and surprise
these few Shammar, and, _inshallah_--if God wills, it shall be
accomplished."

"To obtain it thus, by stratagem and bloodshed," I replied, "would be
for me to invoke the curses of all the evil spirits which haunt the
world. Know you not, sheik, that these very Shammar extended to me full
hospitality? How, then, is it possible for me to agree to your
proposals?"

"I had forgotten," said the sheik. "Those are difficulties. Can you
yourself think of any plan by which they may be removed?"

"I shall require time to consider," I replied. "Allow me until
to-night."

"So be it," said Faris, "and to-night I shall entertain you at a feast.
It is a great occasion."

Glad of quiet and repose, I lay on the rugs in my tent all the
afternoon, and gave myself up to deep thought. That I was bitterly
disappointed I need not say. I had fully made up my mind that Faris
actually had the Girdle ready to hand over to me. I now learned that it
was some two hundred miles away. Truly had Edwards described it as a
will-o'-the-wisp. Was I to start again on another interminable ride? It
seemed to be my only chance; and yet, when I reached the Shammar tents,
I might find that my Golden Girdle had again taken wings. I began to
hate the thing; but I had gone through so much in my attempts to obtain
it, that I was more than ever determined that it should be mine. So I
thought on, and frequently wished that Edwards had been with me, so that
I might have had the value of his advice, although I felt that he would
have counselled a masterly inactivity, in other words, a retreat to
Baghdad. At any rate, I should now have the satisfaction of playing the
game off my own bat.

At sundown came the supper party, and it certainly was a great affair,
all the principal men of the tribe being invited, and the dishes being
of the best. But I was quite unprepared for the honour that awaited me
at the conclusion of the feast. Faris rose and made a speech, in which
he told his guests that the time had come for him to prove to me, his
principal guest, in how high esteem he held me. He then spoke at some
length of the courage displayed by me on several occasions when in his
company, though I noticed that he was careful not to go into details
concerning our doings at Katib. He regretted that his friend the Hakim,
an equally brave man, was not also present; but he hoped some day to
welcome him to the desert. It was now, he went on, his earnest desire
that I, the bravest of the brave, should hold out to him,
Faris-ibn-Feyzul, a Sheik of the Jelas Aeniza, the hand of eternal
friendship. Throughout his long speech I had been hot and uncomfortable;
all eyes were riveted on me, and I felt that each pair of eyes could
read, in my crimson face, that I was a rank impostor. Yet they greeted
their chiefs appeal for eternal friendship with shouts of acclamation,
and not knowing exactly what was required of me, I stood up and spoke.
Thanking the sheik for the kind words which he had used regarding me,
but at the same time proclaiming that he had greatly exaggerated my
courage, I declared my willingness, and indeed my desire, that we should
ever be friends.

"Brothers!" exclaimed Faris.

"Brothers!" shouted everyone in chorus.

Then I knew what was intended. I and Faris were to swear
blood-brotherhood, the highest honour that one man can show to another,
and by which we should bind ourselves, so long as we lived, to remain
true to each other, to fight for each other if necessary, and never to
quarrel. There and then, on the spur of the moment, the ceremony was
performed, Sedjur, on my other side, prompting me how to act. All stood
up in silence, and to the onlookers the scene must have appeared a
solemn and impressive one; for my part, I was so nervous that I scarcely
knew what I was doing, though Sedjur instructed me that whatever his
father did or said, I was to repeat. Facing one another, the sheik
grasped my girdle with his left hand, and I grasped his with mine. Then,
with our right hands raised to heaven, we pledged ourselves, I repeating
the words which Faris spoke, one by one, and each one many times. We
called on God to bear witness; we swore by God, and through God, and we
declared ourselves to be brothers to-day, to-morrow, and hereafter. It
was no light undertaking, and those present regarded the ceremony with
much seriousness, remaining silent for some time after it had been
concluded.

"Now," said Faris, later on, when the guests had departed, and he, I,
and Sedjur were alone, "now, we are true brothers. Praise be to Allah!
From this time we have all things in common; should you desire camels,
horses, or sheep, take any that I have. Whatsoever is mine is yours, and
anything that you ask of me shall be granted."

"Great Sheik and Brother," I said, "I know not how to thank you for all
the kindness and generosity which you have shown to me. Would that I
could repay you but one half. I desire nothing but the one thing of
which you know, and with it to return to my own country. This afternoon
I spent in devising a plan for becoming possessed of that Golden Girdle,
which we two once saw lying before the altar of Sophana, whom Raspul
called Goddess Queen. To unfold my plan and ask you to agree to it will
be to put your oath of brotherhood to a severe test."

"Have I not sworn by Allah?" said the sheik. "Speak on, brother."

I then expounded my plan, which was that, in place of my going on what
might prove a long and useless journey, we should send to the party of
Shammar now in possession of the Girdle, and invite them, as guests, to
pay us a visit. As I explained, they were my friends, and they were,
therefore, now the friends of Sheik Faris. He saw the argument, and
though I am confident that my suggestion was most distasteful to him, he
acquiesced without so much as a question. I explained to him my reason
for wishing that the Shammar should come to me, rather than that I
should go to them: I did not altogether believe in the veracity of the
two Jews, who had said that they had been robbed, knowing, as I did,
that the Jews of Arabia have reduced lying to a fine art. By persuading
the Shammar to come to us, if we should find that the Jews had lied, we
should be able to get in touch at once with the latter; whereas if I
were to ride away a couple of hundred miles, I should have to come back
again before being able to do anything. I was quite certain that if the
Shammar had the Girdle, they would sell it to me; for I had been with
them long enough to know that they were poor men, and that their sole
desire was to obtain Kellner's 5000 kerans. Therefore I proposed that
the message which I should send to them should be to the effect that I
was anxious once again to see my old friends, and that I would purchase
from them the Golden Girdle at the price which Kellner had agreed to
give.

As Faris said, the negotiations would require fine handling, but Sedjur
stepped into the breach, and immediately suggested that he himself
should carry the message. He would go with one other, and he was quite
convinced that he would succeed in inducing the Shammar to come and see
me. The sheik consented, and, moreover, offered to lead the tribe
southwards in the direction of the winter pastures, by which Sedjur's
return journey would be considerably shortened, and we should be at no
greater distance from Kerbela and the two Jews than we now were. I went
to bed that night more contented in mind; I still had every chance of
obtaining my prize; I should have to pay for it, of course; but that I
had long decided would be necessary. If the Shammar had the Girdle, they
should have 5000 kerans for it; if the Jews still possessed it, they
would doubtless sell it for that sum, and be glad to get the money. The
only question that troubled me at all was the position of Kellner. I did
not wish to do anything mean or underhand, for he had fought valiantly
for the thing, and that he had failed to keep it was only due to his
loss of health at the last. So I made a vow that, when I had secured the
Girdle and had it safe in Baghdad, I would display the utmost generosity
to Kellner, and recompense him handsomely. I felt that then I should be
able to afford to be generous.

Next morning, Sedjur and his companion set out on their mission, and
after they had left, I almost regretted not having accompanied them. The
sheik, however, laid himself out to entertain me, and on the following
day, the whole tribe commenced its annual migration towards the south.
It was an interesting sight, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and I was glad
to find that the pace was slow and the day's march consequently short.
Thousands of camels and horses moved abreast across the plain, a few
horsemen scouting ahead, as an advanced guard, while Faris and I, with a
small escort, rode a little in front of the centre of the long line,
which extended across country for several miles. There was sport to be
had, also; for the sheik did not make these slow marches without his
hawks and greyhounds, and many a fast gallop they gave us. The camels
and horses were as good as a line of beaters; wolves, foxes, jackals,
gazelles, and bustards were frequently turned out of the scrub, and
pursued by hound or hawk. For a week or more we travelled in this easy
and delightful manner, pitching camp early each evening, and starting
again none too early in the morning.

At length we reached the spot at which Faris had agreed to wait for
Sedjur, and so satisfactorily did the arrangement work, that we had to
wait barely twenty-four hours before we had the joy of seeing four
horsemen coming into camp. Sedjur's mission had been successful, and
with him rode Daud and another of the Shammar. I was not a little
astonished at the politeness with which Faris received his old enemies,
and welcomed them as the guests of the tribe. They might have been his
dearest friends; and the Shammar themselves were evidently well-pleased
at their reception.

It had been my hope all along that Daud would be one of the guests, as I
knew him better than his chief, and I was aware that he was much
attached to me; but it grieved me to hear that, some weeks before, the
sheik had lost his life in a foray, and that three others had also
perished. Daud was now the head of this small family of the Shammar, and
he and the man accompanying him were the only survivors of the original
party who had been responsible for the death of the seer at Katib. I
mentioned this to Faris in private. His reply was typical of the man.

"The curse has indeed followed them," said he, softly, "as I was sure
that it would. For the murder of Raspul nine lives have been given. His
death has been avenged, and the crime expiated. I am sorry for them, for
they were daring and brave men."

"I have not told you, sheik," I said, "that this Daud and the other man
were both at Katib on that night, and were parties to the death of
Raspul the seer."

"That cannot be helped now," said Faris. "I cursed them, and swore, by
Allah, that I would not rest until I had slain them. Yet the laws of
hospitality are in the eyes of Allah inviolable, and of greater
importance than an oath of vengeance taken in hot blood. I wish my
guests no ill, and I trust that the curse of Sophana may not fall upon
these two men."

It was not long before I approached Daud in the matter of the Golden
Girdle, fully expecting that he would show it to me hanging from his
waist. But no sooner did I mention it than I realised that my hopes were
destined to be dashed to the ground once again. What the two Jews had
said was absolutely false. Never had Daud or any of his men set eyes on
them since the day that he rode with Edwards and myself to the Birs
Nimroud, and had then been forced to retire because of the sudden
arrival of Faris and his superior numbers. Certainly, as I had thought
probable, the Jews had lied, and undoubtedly with a purpose. I did not
altogether blame them, since if they were acting faithfully in Kellner's
interests, they were justified in throwing Faris and everyone else off
the scent. Faris, however, when I told him all, did not see things in
the same light, and declared that he would be even with the Jews who had
lied to him.

I was beginning to lose heart. I felt that I was no match for Kellner;
and when I remembered that the Baghdad merchant, Mersina, who was
evidently Kellner's trusty agent, had been tracked to Kerbela, whither
also the two Jews had fled with the Girdle, I saw clearly what had
happened. Mersina had received it on behalf of Kellner, and had conveyed
it to a place of safety, where it would remain until the German was
released from hospital, and able to take it away. My sole hope now lay
in the possibility of purchasing the Girdle from Kellner--a poor hope,
at the best; and I settled that my wisest course would be to return to
Baghdad as soon as possible, and endeavour to discuss matters with him.
He might still be in hospital at Hillah; if so, I would persuade Edwards
that it would be friendly to visit him there. But, a few hours later, my
new plan was wrecked.

We had assembled--we three, Faris, Daud, and I--for the purpose of
deciding if by any means we could discover reliable news of the Golden
Girdle. Each of us, though for a different reason, was anxious that it
should come into my possession. Faris, who had wealth enough and to
spare, had but one desire in the world--to become the owner of the shoe
of Shahzadi. Daud had dreams of placing himself on an equal footing with
the other sheiks of his tribe, as I had promised him that whenever the
Girdle should become mine, I would bestow on him the sum agreed upon by
Kellner. As to myself, fame spurred me on to exertion; but I argued with
myself that it was not a mere craving for notoriety, so much as an
ambition to accomplish that which I had undertaken, with perhaps a wish
to be able to prove to Edwards, the sceptic, that there was method in my
madness. I opened the debate, telling my friends what I had heard of the
merchant, Mersina; how I imagined that he was holding the Girdle until
Kellner should claim it, and that, if this were the case, there was
nothing to be done, since to dispossess the rightful owner was out of
the question.

"The words that you have spoken," said Daud, quickly, "are wise and
just. Yet no man can assert that the dead have a claim on the goods of
this world."

"I do not understand you," said I, "I was speaking of the living."

"Then," said Daud, "you know not that that Ingleezee is dead?"

"Dead!" I replied in astonishment, "why should you think that he has
died?"

"Because," answered the Bedouin, "I myself saw him lying dead in the
hospital at Hillah. I happened to have been in the town in disguise,
when my nephew, who sweeps out the hospital for the base-born Turks,
informed me of the death of a strange Ingleezee who had come from the
desert. He took me to see the dead man, and I saw that it was none other
than that same man who had brought ruin to my people. I had sworn to
kill him, but of that I have told you. No knife of mine was needed to
avenge the death of my many relations. It had pleased Allah to strike
him."

It seemed to me a dreadful thing that Kellner, of whom, as my
cabin-companion, I had the most pleasant recollections, should have thus
come to an untimely end, regarded probably by those about him in his
last moments as an outcast, if not also as a felon. But his death had
changed the whole situation; and though I did not immediately take it
all in, my more astute friends saw at once how matters lay.

"There is only one thing to be done," said Faris, breaking the silence,
"and I am sure that my guest here will agree with me. Come, Daud, do you
understand my meaning?"

"That, sheik, I cannot say," replied Daud, "but I have my own idea of
the only plan by which we can succeed. It is that we immediately seek
the Jews, and discover from them truly what they have done with the
Girdle."

"And after that?" said Faris.

"With spear and sword and with horse," answered Daud, his eyes flashing
fiercely, "pursuing to the limits of the earth, and sparing no one,
until we have accomplished our end."

"In this matter," said Faris, "we are one. If you agree, let us swear to
be loyal to one another so long as we are fighting for the serpent belt,
and until our friend the Beg proclaims that he has no further need of
our services."

"I agree," said Daud rising, and holding his right hand aloft "By Allah,
I swear it!"

"By Allah, I swear it!" repeated Faris.

Great plans were discussed by the two warriors, who apparently intended
to be stopped by nothing; and though I counselled moderation and as
little bloodshed as possible, I knew that it would be useless to argue
with two men of this description when their blood was up. I therefore
contented myself with listening to their projects, hoping that before
anything desperate occurred I should have an opportunity of interfering
and of preventing unnecessary slaughter.

The plan finally decided on, and forthwith set on foot, was, in its
initial stage, simple enough. Daud went alone to Kerbela, where, as a
mendicant pilgrim from the far interior, he was to display much
religious zeal, discover all he could about Mersina and the two other
Jews, and remain in the place until he had found out what had become of
the precious Girdle.

A week passed without any news, and my patience began to be sorely
tried. My hosts did all in their power to make the time pass pleasantly.
Among other things, Faris told me the story of Shahzadi's shoe, and how
Raspul the seer had prophesied: "_War and constant fighting there will
be, until the coming of the eight-nailed shoe. Wealth untold cometh to
the man whose mare shall carry the iron with which Shahzadi was shod._"

At length Daud returned from his reconnaissance. I saw at once that he
was a changed man, haggard, and his eyes as if on the look-out for
danger. He told us how he had heard of the Girdle from Shustri, a Hindu
astrologer of Kerbela. Shustri related that the Baghdad Jew, Mersina,
had stolen the Girdle from Kellner and sold it for a large sum to an
important sheik bound for Deyr, a long distance up the Euphrates.




CHAPTER XXIII.

DAUD'S ADVENTURES.


Daud confessed to us that he had no very high opinion of the Hindu
astrologer. He thought that he was quite capable of lying, if it suited
his purpose; and that it was by no means impossible that he was mixed up
in the theft of the Golden Girdle. If the latter were the case, the tale
of Mersina's flight and subsequent disposal of the stolen property was,
of course, an invention, to get Daud well out of the way; and it might
be that the astrologer knew that the Girdle was safely deposited
somewhere in Kerbela. The Shammar, however, came to the conclusion that,
whatever was going on, his line of action was quite clear. He would ride
after the sheik who was said to have bought the Girdle, and find out
what truth there was in the story. If it proved to be a lie, he would
return and tax the astrologer with the telling of it. So, getting his
horse at the village, and taking one of the Aeniza with him, he went off
in the direction which the sheik's kafila had taken. From information
picked up at the khans and villages on his route, he found that it was
quite true that the caravan had passed that way a few days previously,
but he failed to ascertain anything reliable about Mersina's presence
with it.

Each day, trying his horse's powers of endurance to the utmost, he rode
immense distances, and after a while heard that he was rapidly gaining
on the sheik's party. Another long day's ride, and he probably would
attain the object of his journey. Starting early to make his final
effort, at mid-day he reached a small village, where, he was told, the
great caravan had halted three nights before. The Arab with whom he
conversed had a strange tale to tell him, and one which, if Daud had not
known the reputation possessed by the Golden Girdle, would have seemed
incredible. In the middle of the night, said the villager, the whole
camp and the village close by were aroused by piercing shrieks from the
women's tents, and soon it became known that the sheik's favourite wife
had suddenly started up in her sleep, had rushed in a state of frenzy
from the tent, and was flying screaming into the desert. The sheik
himself and several horsemen immediately went in pursuit and in the
course of the night brought back the unfortunate lady, who had
apparently lost her reason. More than that the Arab did not know, for
the kafila continued its journey in the morning, and the sheik, at its
head, rode by the side of the camel which carried the _haudaj_, or sedan
saddle, bearing his wife.

Later in the evening Daud passed another village, and heard further
strange stories of the sheik and his wife; how the latter was raving
mad, and was under the impression that snakes were devouring her body;
how the sheik had attempted in vain to appease her, and how the mulla
had declared her to be possessed of a devil. These tales set Daud
thinking, and calling to mind the madness that had seized Kellner when
he rode away with the Golden Girdle, and the other curious things which
he had heard about its mysterious powers, he felt certain that the sheik
had given his wife the precious girdle purchased from Mersina. Rapidly
forming his plan, he pressed forward, and before nightfall he found
himself approaching the encampment of the sheik. He rode straight up to
the sheik's tent, and demanded an immediate interview. This was granted;
and Daud, assuming an air of importance, proclaimed that he had been
despatched by Shustri, the astrologer of Kerbela, to overtake the
sheik, and warn him of the evil that the Golden Girdle was capable of
producing. He told him what misfortunes had befallen people who had worn
the belt, on which there was undoubtedly a curse, and he pointed out
that it was Shustri's opinion that Mersina had committed murder and had
stolen the Girdle--acts which in all probability would intensify the
curse, causing greater misfortunes than ever to fall on its wearer.

The sheik, on hearing this, became as one demented, and acknowledged
that he had paid a large sum to Mersina for the Girdle, because his wife
had desired to possess it; and that no sooner had she unwrapped it and
fastened it round her waist, than she was suddenly taken ill. No one
could say what was the cause of her illness, but now it seemed evident,
from what Daud had related, that it must have been brought about by the
ill-fated Girdle. The sheik, excusing himself, hurried off to his wife's
tent, and presently returned with the Golden Girdle itself, which he
cast on the floor at Daud's feet. For a moment Daud imagined that the
belt lying before him was his to take away, if he had a mind to do so.
He stretched out his hand towards it; but the sheik motioned to him to
stop, saying that he had conferred with his mulla, with the result that
they had determined that this thing of evil should no longer be
permitted to harry the inhabitants of the world. The mulla was now
consulting the Koran, and would in due course come and make known in
what way it would be possible to drive out the evil spirit.

For some time Daud sat watching the entwined mass of serpents in front
of him, longing to snatch up the coveted belt and fly with it. Yet,
brave man as he was, he dared not to make the attempt, and shortly
before midnight the mulla came in, to declare what the Koran decreed.
Carried on the point of a spear, the evil-working Girdle was to be borne
with due ceremony to the Euphrates; plunged three times in its waters;
then carried, still aloft on the spear, across the river for a day's
ride to the east. Here would be found the dreaded Devil's Well, known to
all to be haunted by afreets and evil spirits, and the dwelling-place of
countless snakes. Down into the depths of this dry well the accursed
Girdle should be cast from the spear-point, and there it would find a
resting-place in fitting company, the snakes crawling over their golden
brethren, and the afreets and jins playing with them for all time. No
man would be found courageous enough to descend into the pit and battle
with its inmates. Thus would the world be freed from this great curse.

The sheik agreed that the fate which the mulla had interpreted from the
Koran for the Girdle was well devised, and regretting that the Jew from
whom he had purchased it had left the kafila and had thus escaped being
consigned to the well with his stolen wares, he ordered a three days'
halt to be proclaimed, while he and a party of chosen men proceeded to
convey the Girdle to the Devil's Well. At break of day the party left
the encampment, one man riding ahead with the gold belt transfixed to
his spear. The sheik and his mulla followed, and behind rode an escort
of some twenty horsemen. Daud volunteered to accompany the sheik,
explaining that doing so would only entail a slight delay in his return
to Kerbela, but the sheik requested that he would go straight back to
the town and thank the astrologer Shustri for having sent him with such
valuable information. Moreover, he presented Daud with a handsome inlaid
knife, as a reward for his services. So the Shammar and his Aeniza
companion took leave of the sheik, and rode away to the south, at the
same time as the others moved eastwards towards the Euphrates.

Daud, crestfallen at what he considered to be his failure, travelled
slowly, and, before noon, had covered little ground. He was disgusted
with himself at having let slip the opportunity of carrying off the
Golden Girdle when it lay at his feet. He argued with himself that it
would have been quite feasible to have snatched it up, and, while
everyone was in a state of bewilderment, made good his escape into the
desert. Now, although he had actually seen it, and had had ample leisure
to study the form of each serpent composing it, he had lost it for ever.
He doubted not that what the sheik and his mulla had said was true; that
the last resting-place of the golden snakes would be impenetrable to
man, and that, therefore, there was no chance now that it would ever
come into my possession. He had never seen the place, neither had his
Aeniza companion, and it was at the latter's suggestion that he decided,
a few hours later, that he would endeavour to find it, and satisfy
himself, before returning to Faris, that all hope had gone.

Towards dusk the two travellers reached a small village, close to the
Euphrates, where they intended to spend the night, and try to discover
something about the haunted well. Their host knew of it by repute, but
said that no one would willingly pass within half a day's journey of it,
so evil was the locality supposed to be. From the village it was distant
rather more than a long day's ride, and when Daud expressed a desire to
see for himself what manner of place it was, the Arab reluctantly agreed
that, for a certain sum, he would, on the morrow, show his guests the
way thither, but would not journey with them beyond mid-day. Early next
morning they set out, crossing the Euphrates on inflated skins, with
their horses swimming behind them, and then, striking north-east across
the plain, rode rapidly for several hours. At noon their guide said that
he must return, but explained to them the direction in which they should
proceed, mentioning certain distant landmarks which would assist them to
find the way, and warning them that no man had ever been known to spend
the night near the well and return alive.

Hour after hour the two determined men rode on, picking up the
landmarks one by one, and feeling certain of their direction. But the
sun was fast sinking, and there were still several landmarks unpassed.
Then darkness coming on, they were forced to abandon further progress
until daylight should again open up the country to them. Accustomed to
sleep anywhere, a night in the desert was no hardship to them, and, much
refreshed, they eagerly pushed on at daybreak. The last part of their
ride, they were told, would be in the bed of a wadi; then over a ridge;
and then the Devil's Well.

In an hour or so they reached the wadi, and knew that they were nearing
their destination. It was now necessary to make certain that the sheik's
party had cleared off; so, casting widely round to the westward, they
searched for the marks of the horses, and soon found what they sought.
These footprints, they presumed, marked the route taken by the party on
going to and returning from the well, so they followed what had become a
beaten track, to find themselves, almost at once, on the brink of the
dreaded well. It was apparent that the place must at one time have been
close to a caravan route, though many years must have elapsed since it
contained water. In structure not altogether unlike the wells of the
Lady Zobeidé which Daud had often visited when roaming to the south of
Meshed Ali, it was deeply excavated, and on three sides lined with
massive blocks of stone. The fourth side was more open, and seemed to
have had a succession of steps leading gently down to the water's edge.
Now, however, the greater part of the masonry had crumbled away; and the
steps no longer existed, except that here and there their remains could
be occasionally seen. Bushes grew densely in every cleft and on each
ledge; so that the precipitous sides of the chasm appeared to be clothed
with stunted shrubs.

Daud waxed warm as he described the place, and said that from one point
it was possible to look sheer down to the bottom, perhaps a hundred
feet; and from that spot, he and his friend, lying at full length, had
peered into the depths. There they saw a space of some extent, the
centre of which was bare and smooth, as if water at times lay there;
while all around were strewn heaps of stones, which had rolled down from
the walls, with bushes growing between them. The morning sun, shining
through the open end, lighted up the whole well, and as Daud gazed down,
he could see clearly all that he desired to see. On the bare ground at
the bottom was the Golden Girdle, lying unclasped, in a heap, as it had
evidently fallen from the spear on which it had been carried; and the
mulla's prophecy was even already being fulfilled, for several great
snakes were seen coiling and uncoiling themselves close by. For a long
while the two men, fascinated by the weird scene below them, continued
to look down; then they arose and walked round the edge of the well,
surveying it from every point. That no man would ever recover the Girdle
they felt satisfied, and cursing the spot and everything connected with
it, they decided to leave it as quickly as possible, and return to bring
the news to Faris and myself.

Riding throughout the remainder of that day and the night that followed,
next morning they reached the Euphrates, some miles below the village
whence they had started for the well. The river was in flood, and with
difficulty they swam their horses across; but at length, only the open
desert separated them from our encampment. Forgetting the distance that
still remained to be traversed, they had neglected to carry sufficient
food and water for the journey, and on the third day they found that
they had little of either left. They were now aware that, unless they
rode unceasingly and swiftly, they must perish of hunger and thirst, but
fortunately they were well mounted, and thus escaped the death that had
threatened them.

With what excitement we listened to Daud's account of his wanderings
can be imagined. We praised him for his pluck, and thanked him for all
that he had gone through; but that all our hopes should be thus blighted
depressed us deeply. Faris and I talked the matter over for hours in
private, and we agreed that until we ourselves had looked into the
depths of the well of ill-repute, and had seen that it was impossible to
recover the Girdle, we would not rest content. One thing was certain;
Daud must guide us to the spot. But he could not undertake such a ride
for some days, although, when we spoke to him about it, he was eager to
set out at once. Yet we knew that if he broke down, our attempt would
prove a failure, and we decided that he should have a week's rest before
we put our plans into execution.

As Daud's strength returned his enthusiasm increased. He suggested that
we should lower a man into the well at the end of a strong rope, and
with a spear-point bent in the form of a hook it would be easy to secure
the Girdle without actually touching the bottom and risking the peril of
snakes.

In making our preparations the week passed quickly enough, and the world
seemed brighter again. We even went so far as to arrange about the
future. As soon as the Girdle was ours, we would ride straight to
Baghdad, my friends remaining in hiding near Akarkouf, while I rode on
in triumph to the city, and afterwards returned with the reward which I
had promised to Daud. As to Shahzadi's shoe, I swore to Faris, as his
blood-brother, that he should have it as soon as I could obtain it from
England.

"Then," said the sheik, smiling, "will all the Aeniza remember the words
of Raspul, '_Wealth untold cometh to the man whose mare shall carry the
iron with which Shahzadi was shod._'"

"And, brother," said I, "if it please Allah, that man shall be none
other than Faris-ibn-Feyzul."




CHAPTER XXIV.

THE DEVIL'S WELL.


Never did fishing party go a-fishing for stranger fish or with stranger
gear, than did we five men, who rode forth, in the chill of the desert
winter's morning, on the first stage of the journey to the Devil's Well.
At first, it had been proposed that we should go in foray strength,
accompanied by some fifty horsemen; but, later, it was thought best to
avoid the display which might arouse suspicion, if we should chance to
encounter anyone on the way; and, eventually, the party was restricted
to Faris, Sedjur, and myself, with Daud and the Aeniza who had
previously been his companion.

For three days we followed the route by which Daud had returned from the
well; then, turning east, we reached the Euphrates a few miles above
Ana. Crossing the river by swimming, we moved north again, and soon hit
off Daud's old track, after which all was plain sailing. We had reached
the Devil's Well--and no better name could have been bestowed on the
awesome spot. Even Faris acknowledged that the sight of the place froze
the very marrow in his bones.

We wasted no time, however, in discussing our feelings, but set to work
at once to discover a means of reaching the bottom. Daud had not
exaggerated matters; to clamber down the scarped sides was beyond the
powers of man. There was nothing for it but the rope; so we followed our
guide to the point of land from which, as he had told us, the Girdle
could be seen. Only one man at a time could lie down and look over into
the abyss, and we took it in turn to view our quarry. Faris gazed on it;
then Sedjur; and lastly I myself. Sedjur demanded to be lowered
forthwith by the rope, but each of us had his own views of the
situation, and each hoped to be the one to draw forth the prize.

It was almost noon before we had formed any definite plan of operations,
and the sun no longer lighted up the hollow--in fact, it was not easy to
see the Girdle lying below, until one's eyes became accustomed to the
gloom. Yet we decided, chiefly by my entreaty, to try the grappling
iron, and it was ultimately arranged that each man should be allowed
three attempts, after the hooks had been lowered down. Faris was to try
his luck first; Daud was to follow; then Sedjur, myself, and the Aeniza
in succession. When the others had failed, and my turn arrived, I took
my place at the rope end, feeling quite confident of success. With two
men sitting on my legs, I hung over the edge, and with both hands
grasped the rope. Barely a hundred feet separated me from the Girdle. I
could see its outline distinctly, and the grappling hooks within a foot
of it. Other snakes, besides the golden ones, I could see also--great,
grey, loathsome-looking beasts, and one of them, at the moment, was
actually crawling over the hooks and the Girdle. Little had I imagined
how difficult it would be to move the grappling iron, so heavy was the
great length of rope. My first attempt did no more than just turn the
iron, and I saw that all my strength would be needed to jerk the hooks
towards the Girdle. I drew in my breath, gave a frantic tug at the rope,
and succeeded in making the grapple turn bodily over. But it was farther
than ever from the desired object; and my third attempt had no better
result. I realised that it was hopeless, and, a sadder but a wiser man,
I rose from the ground. Neither did the Aeniza, who last of all
manipulated the rope, prove himself a more expert fisherman than the
rest of us.

"It is useless," said Faris, "to continue thus to play with the matter.
Let us get to business, so that we may have done with this place before
nightfall. Come, the sun is fast sinking; bring the rope."

Now arose a difficulty: each of us was eager to be the one to descend,
but Faris began to fasten the rope end to his own body. I remonstrated
with him, and maintained that the lightest man of the party should be
the one to be lowered down. This was, perhaps, selfishness on my part,
as I had every reason to believe that I myself weighed less than anyone
else. Sedjur willingly agreed to this, and, as the lightest, claimed the
right to the rope end, at which I became indignant, and demanded that
Faris should decide between us. Under other circumstances the friendly
contest between Sedjur and myself would have been intensely amusing.
Neither of us would yield; and at length Faris made us strip and stand
before him side by side, so that he might compare the size of our limbs
and the amount of flesh on them. Daud also was called in to give an
opinion, and in the end the matter was decided in my favour. My heart
gave a great bound when I knew that I, with my own hands, was to recover
the Golden Girdle, which had given me such an amount of trouble; and,
seizing the rope, I soon had it looped and knotted to my liking. I
considered myself more or less of an expert at cliff work, since I had
spent two nesting seasons with the fowlers at Flamborough Head, and I
knew that I had nothing to fear from dizziness.

I determined that, so far as I was concerned, there should be no chance
of failure. Securing the rope round my waist with a knot which I was
certain could not slip, I took the fathom or so that remained, and,
passing it down through my legs, knotted it into the waist rope in the
middle of my back. The end I then brought up over my shoulder, and
fastened off in the front of the waist rope. Thus, when suspended, my
arms and legs would be free, and the rope would not cut me unduly
anywhere. My friends, seeing that I was no novice with a rope, willingly
listened to the instructions that I proceeded to give them about
lowering me down and hauling me up again. Faris was to lie flat on the
projecting rock, watching me descend, and directing operations. Near the
edge of the point, I drove in a spear as firmly as the rocky ground
would permit, and, some little distance behind it, I planted another
spear. Passing the rope twice round each upright spear, I directed Daud,
Sedjur, and the other man to hold the standing part of the rope in both
hands, and pay it out gradually, as Faris should instruct them. Then,
when all was ready, I took the spear with the boat-hook head in both
hands, and was soon hanging in space.

Down, down, slowly but surely, I commenced to drop. As I descended, the
air grew cold and dank; pigeons, startled by my presence, flew out of
the fissures in the rocks, and occasionally a great bat made as if to
attack me. Owls, also, I could see blinking on the gnarled bushes, and
below, whenever I looked down, there were the snakes. It was not a
pleasant experience, and for a moment I almost wished that I had been a
heavier man than Sedjur. Faris's head was just visible over the edge of
the point, and I could see his hands guiding the rope, which passed over
a smooth rock close by the side of his head. As far as possible, I kept
my eyes fixed on Faris, signing to him at intervals to lower away, and
shouting to him cheerily, from time to time, to assure him that all was
going satisfactorily. I began to congratulate myself on the success of
my undertaking; I looked down to see how much farther I had to go;
another twenty feet, and the Girdle would be within reach of my hook. At
that moment, the rope suddenly ran out a yard or more with a rush, and
then stopped as suddenly with a jerk, causing me to swing backwards and
forwards in a most horrible manner. Instinctively I threw out my
boat-hook to the cliff-side nearest to me in order to steady myself,
and, to my dismay, I found that it had become fixed in a thick bush. I
shouted to Faris to hold fast to the rope, but getting no response,
glanced upwards. He had disappeared from his look-out post; and a
feeling of utter helplessness took possession of me.

I dared not let go my hold on the boat-hook spear, as without it I
should be able to do nothing. I was hanging from the rope in mid-air,
clasping the centre of the spear-shaft with both hands. Thus I remained
for, it may have been, two seconds--not longer, when I gave a sharp pull
at the rope to attract the attention of those above. What followed I
hardly know. I have a dim recollection of seeing a man come plunging
over the edge, mixed up with spears and ropes. I was loose. I clutched
the boat-hook in desperation, and felt myself suddenly swing towards the
side of the cliff. Then the shaft of the boat-hook dragged through my
hands, my body crashed down, and everything became black.

Of what happened after that I know nothing. Neither can I say for
certain, even now, whether I lay there unconscious for only a few hours,
or for more than twenty-four. On opening my eyes at last, I found that
it was night, and for some time I could not understand where I was. Then
the whole hideous truth dawned on me, and I recalled what I had last
seen--the loose rope, the spears, and the falling man. I was, then, down
in the well; and I shuddered as I remembered the snakes that I had seen
at the bottom. I was afraid to move, but feeling carefully with my
hands, I came to the conclusion that I was lying on a ledge, and had not
fallen the whole distance to the bottom. Still, the situation was
appalling, for unless my friends found some means to rescue me, I saw no
possibility of escape. Exhausted, yet fearing to fall asleep, I lay, and
prayed for daylight, not knowing whether the night had just begun, or
whether it was drawing to a close. I called loudly to Faris, to Sedjur,
and to Daud; but each time there came back only the echo of my own
voice, mingled with the shrill screams of countless owls. That the place
was haunted did not greatly trouble me, for I argued with myself that
all the afreets and jins in spirit-land could do no more than kill me,
which, perhaps, would be the best thing that could happen.

Thus I remained motionless, hoping for dawn, and thinking regretfully
over the events of my short life. It seemed pitiful to think that I
should have been so near the attainment of all my hopes, and should
suddenly have lost everything. Then I tried to find a reason for what
had occurred, and I became convinced that it was the result of my own
folly, that the rope had kinked up, that Faris had left his spot in
order to free it, and that my foolish jerk had pulled him off his feet
and hurled him into the depths of the well. His dead body, I thought,
must be lying somewhere near me; and I shuddered at the knowledge that I
had caused the death of the brave sheik, simply and solely because I had
been so obstinately determined to obtain the Golden Girdle. As many
another man had done before me, I cursed the thing, and remembered, with
bitterness, how Faris had warned me from the first that no good would
ever come from it.

In the course of time the sky began to show a faint glimmer of light,
and I knew that day was breaking. I could make out the shapes of the
rocks and the bushes, and I soon saw how everything lay. As I had
imagined, I was lying on a narrow ledge, on to which I must have been
cast, by the swing of the spear-shaft, as the rope gave way. I looked
above me, and there I saw the spear itself, with its boat-hook head
fixed in a dense bush, and the end of the shaft not two feet above my
face. When I sat up, I could almost reach it with my hands. I raised
myself carefully, grasped the spear, and endeavoured to disentangle its
hooked head. It resisted all my efforts for some time, but eventually a
small branch broke off, and the boat-hook was loose.

My next thought was to look for the sheik's body, and, craning over the
side of the ledge, I glanced down at the bottom of the well. The sun had
now risen, and was shining brightly on the wild scene. Not fifteen feet
beneath me glittered the Golden Girdle, and the sight of it caused me to
tremble violently. Close by it were one or two snakes, basking in the
morning sun. I hastily scanned the ledge whereon I was kneeling, to make
certain that other snakes were not there also. I could see none, and I
gave a sigh of relief. Again I sought the body of Faris, and presently
my eyes fell on a shapeless mass of clothing, lying among the débris of
rocks on the opposite side of the well. In my agony, my first impulse
was to fling myself on to the rocks below, and so end my miserable
existence. But I restrained myself, and involuntarily turned my eyes in
the direction of the gruesome corpse. A ray of hope suddenly burst in
upon me. The clothes were not those worn by Faris, nor by Sedjur, nor by
either of my other friends; they were not the clothes of a Bedouin, but
of an Arab townsman. Who or what he was I could not imagine.

Half dazed, I sat down and wondered what it all meant. Faris and the
others were alive after all; they would shortly come to my rescue; they
had probably gone off to obtain another rope. I felt happier. I still
lived, and I was certain that Faris, my blood-brother, was not the man
to leave me to die. Then a horrible fear came over me as I thought that,
perhaps, the sheik had imagined that I had been killed by the fall.
Possibly, while I was unconscious, he had called to me, and, receiving
no reply, had given me up as dead. If he thought me to be dead, then he
would certainly leave the Girdle at rest. These thoughts sent a thrill
of horror through me, but at the same time they impelled me to cast
about for a means of escape. I roused myself. I would not sit where I
was and await death. I would make a fight for life.

The resolution made, I became calm and collected--much to my own
astonishment. I looked around me. The rope was still secured to my
waist, the bulk of it lying at the bottom of the well. I hauled it up
and coiled it by my side on the ledge. With the rope and my long
boat-hook, I should be able to manage something--at least I hoped so.
With the aid of these two things, I could surely work my way upwards
from rock to rock, and from bush to bush. I could not endure another
night in this Inferno, and I formed my plans rapidly. I raised the
boat-hook, and with it grappled the bush above me. I could see that
there was another ledge there, and to reach it meant ten feet nearer
freedom; but I found that swarming up a smooth bamboo was more than I
could manage; so, drawing down the boat-hook, and poising the loose end
of the rope on its top, I raised it again, and, after several vain
attempts, succeeded in passing the rope round the stem of the bush.
Then, inch by inch, I jerked the rope forward until the end returned to
my hand, when, knotting it securely, and fixing the head of the
boat-hook in the bush, I clambered up the double rope, to reach the
narrow ledge in safety. I drew up the boat-hook and the rope, and now
that I had accomplished the first step, I no longer despaired.

Looking down, while resting after my exertion, I caught sight of the
fateful Girdle. It had a dreadful fascination for me. Should I leave it
there? Could I possibly obtain it? I shook with excitement at the very
idea; and I decided that I would drop down again to my former position
on the lower ledge, and see if I could in any way get nearer to the
bottom of the well. I hung the boat-hook in the bush, tied the rope to
the thickest bough, and slipped down. The situation I found was not by
any means hopeless; in fact, to reach a spot overhanging the Girdle, and
within spear's length of it, seemed to be perfectly simple. About eight
feet below me was a projecting rock, quite large enough to stand on, and
from it, I estimated, I could easily touch the golden serpents with my
hook.

I determined now to run no risk of losing either of the two things on
which my life depended. The rope, still looped round the bush above me,
I slackened out sufficiently to enable me to reach the rock below, and
drawing the long end through the loop that encircled my waist, I made it
fast, coiling the remainder round my body, and securing the end to the
shaft of the boat-hook. Thus equipped, I descended cautiously, and, in
less than a minute, was standing on the rock. Pulling at the portion of
the rope to which the boat-hook was fastened, I dragged the latter off
the ledge, and soon had it in my hands. My estimate proved correct; the
head of the boat-hook could touch the ground a foot or two over and
beyond the Golden Girdle.

As the iron hooks scraped on the ground, the live snakes hissed and
wriggled away among the fallen stones. Skilfully, I gauged the centre of
the belt, and passing the boat-hook beneath it, gently raised my hands.
But the belt slipped off, and I had to start afresh. The same thing
occurred time after time, until at length I balanced it exactly, and
slowly and steadily drew it up. As it came nearer and nearer, my knees
shook beneath me, and every moment I expected to see it slither to the
ground. Another foot and it would be safe. I thrust out one hand and
grasped it. In my frantic joy I shouted again and again. I defied the
whole host of jins and afreets; I cared not for Shaitan himself. I had
won the day. The Golden Girdle was mine!




CHAPTER XXV.

FOR DEAR LIFE.


I drew out my knife, cut off several feet from the rope end, and
twisting it round and round the Girdle, tied it with strong knots
beneath my garments. Joyously, I climbed to the ledge above me, and then
again to the second ledge. There I rested, and studied the cliff above
me. It was disappointing; for it rose up sheer for almost twenty feet,
and no foothold could I see anywhere. I crept carefully round a slightly
projecting rock, and found that a narrow cleft, with perpendicular
sides, opened back into the cliff. It seemed as if an earthquake or some
subsidence had rent the rocks asunder from the top of the well to the
bottom. Down below me, the fissure descended full thirty feet; upwards,
perhaps for twice that height, the walls towered to what I imagined was
the edge of the well.

This was my only chance. I could discover no other possible way of
escape from the shelf on which I stood. I wondered if there could be
snakes in such a place, but so far I had seen none except at the very
bottom. So I dismissed the thought, and began my preparations.

I knew that chimney climbing was a special branch of mountaineering. I
had seen it done, but I myself had never attempted anything of the kind.
Yet, it was no time for hesitating, and now that I had the Girdle round
my waist, I felt nervously anxious to get away. Taking off my sandals
and tying them round my neck I unwound the loose coils of rope from my
body, tied the end to the boat-hook head, and placed the latter,
together with the coiled rope, on the rock at the mouth of the fissure.
I might want my trusty boat-hook again, so I decided to keep it secured
to one end of the rope, the other end of which was attached to my body.
It was a simple matter to get athwart the chimney walls, which were here
no more than two feet apart, with rough portions of rock projecting a
few inches. My back was flat against one wall, my feet against the
other, and once I found myself in that position, I did not stop to
think. Raising my feet a few inches, and pressing hard with my back and
hands, I found my body gradually ascending, with far less difficulty
than I had expected. It was, however, laborious work, and at times I
despaired of being able to reach the top. The long rope, also, hanging
loosely between my legs caused me a good deal of annoyance, as I was
ever in doubt as to whether it would run out freely; though I consoled
myself with the thought that, if the worst came to the worst, I could
cast it off from my body.

Hour after hour I continued to work my way upwards. My feet, hands, and
back were stiff and sore with the constant strain and rubbing; but as I
looked down, I realised how magnificently I had done. I felt that I had
become a mere machine--up with the feet, up with the back, and another
six inches nearer the world. I forgot hunger and thirst, and I thought
only of the streak of blue sky that I could see through the top of my
prison chamber. I was desperate, I own, but my heart never failed me;
and, as I gained confidence in the security of my wedged-in position, I
was able, when I became exhausted, to rest occasionally.

At last, I looked up and found that I was nearing the top. Another
twelve or fifteen feet, and I should be free. But, alas, I saw that the
cleft was widening, and at the top was two or three yards across. Even
now, it had become more than three feet wide, and every inch would
increase my difficulties. I struggled on a little higher. With the whole
of my back flat against one wall and the soles of my feet against the
other, my knees were no higher than my waist. I could go on slowly as
long as my knees had any bend in them; after that I should be powerless.

I stopped, and gazed up again. How near I was to the edge! Six
feet--perhaps not as much. Yet, a step higher, and the chimney would be
too wide for my legs to span. An old and straggling bush grew on the
edge, with branches extended mockingly above me. Could I but reach that
bush, I should be safe. But it was well-nigh impossible. I looked down
into the depths of the fissure, and I thought of what was before me; how
my legs would soon give way, and how my body would bound from side to
side, until the final crash finished everything. Then my eyes followed
the long, trailing rope, and rested on the tiny boat-hook, far below. I
had forgotten its very existence, but the sight of it gave me fresh
hope.

Pressing with all my strength with feet and back, I began to haul away
at the rope. Yard after yard came up, and then I felt a check. I knew
that I had taken in all the slack, and had come to the boat-hook. I
wondered whether its weight would be too much for me. Gradually and
carefully I pulled at it; I could hear it grating over the rock; one
pull more and it was free, and swinging against the sides of the
chimney. Its weight was little, and hand over hand I gathered in the
rope, allowing it to fall down again to one side, until, before very
long, the head of the boat-hook struck my knuckles. I passed the shaft
upwards between my legs; in trepidation I watched the hook approach the
bush, and when I saw that the bamboo was more than long enough, I
breathed more freely. I was getting horribly nervous and excited, and I
nearly lost my footing in my eagerness to grasp the bush with the hook.
I took a pull at myself, and the next moment the boat-hook, with the
rope attached to it, was round the solid stem of the bush.

But I was not yet free. I knew that I could not climb up the bamboo, and
I did not feel equal to climbing up the rope. Before attempting
anything, however, I determined to make myself as safe as possible, so,
taking up a portion of the rope, I knotted it firmly into the loop round
my waist, and encircled the spear-shaft with my arm. I now considered
that I was quite secure; a taut rope stretched from my waist to the hook
fastened in the bush, and as long as I held the shaft, so as to prevent
the chance of its flying upwards when my weight came on the rope, I felt
that I could not come to much harm. Even if my exhausted legs gave way,
I should still hang from the bush, but I had no intention of relying on
this, unless forced to do so. I sat there and rested, easing first one
leg and then the other; I wondered whether the bush would be strong
enough to bear the strain that I should presently put on it; and I
nerved myself for my final effort.

Raising my hands as high as possible above my head, I grasped the rope,
and, still keeping the long bamboo close to my right hip and between it
and my right armpit, I hauled myself upwards. Had the cleft remained the
same width all the way to the top, my ascent would have been easy; but
when I was within a yard of the bush, it widened suddenly, and before I
knew what had happened, my feet had lost their hold, and I was hanging
by my hands to the rope. Desperation seized me, and I fancy that the
roughness of the rocks helped me; for, with a frantic effort, I pulled
myself up the rope, assisted by my toes, which seemed to obtain a
cat-like hold on the steep cleft-side. I put out one hand and grasped
the thick roots of the bush; I let go the rope, and with the other hand
snatched at the nearest branch. A second later, I was lying flat on my
back in the open desert, a yard or more from the edge of the well.

There I lay, worn out and utterly exhausted, but so fearful was I of
falling over the side, that before I collapsed, I had sufficient
strength left to cast off the rope from my body, and roll myself away to
some distance. Then, I suppose, I must have fainted.

The sun was still well up in the heavens when I again opened my eyes.
Instinctively, I felt my waist for the Golden Girdle. It was there. I
sat up, and looked around; but I could see nothing except desert, and
the few bushes near the well mouth. I crawled towards the spot where I
had last seen my friends, and there I was astonished to find all our
saddle-bags, as we had thrown them from our horses. But the horses had
gone.

I soon had my mouth to a water-skin, drinking as I had never drunk
before; and when I had satisfied my thirst, I turned to the saddle-bags
for food. There was plenty and to spare, and I ate heartily. Moreover, I
found a pipe and tobacco, and I could have hugged myself with delight.
This was indeed a stroke of luck, and I sat and smoked, and thought of
all that had occurred. I was blissfully happy, and now, for the first
time, I raised my cloak to look at the prize which I had secured for
myself. I untied and untwisted the rope, and took the Golden Girdle in
my hands. It was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen; but, as
I gazed on it in rapture, I remembered its evil reputation. A sickly
fear came over me. Should I also go mad from having worn it? Perhaps I
was already mad. Perhaps, in my madness, I had leaped into the well, and
my companions had fled, in terror, from the spot. Perhaps this was no
Golden Girdle after all, but merely a piece of rope. People who are mad,
I said to myself, have strange hallucinations. I feared to look long at
my treasure; so I rolled the rope about it, and again fastened it round
my waist.

I had not yet got as far as thinking of the future. I had gained
possession of Queen Sophana's Girdle, and that was my sole thought.
Still, I knew that sooner or later I should have to decide what I should
do next, for, whether I were mad or sane, I had no intention of spending
another night in the neighbourhood of the Devil's Well. I could not
understand what had happened to Faris and the others, and I could not
account for the presence of the stranger's corpse, which I had seen in
the well. But, when I stood up and looked about me, I became aware of
the fact that, since I had last been there, the ground was much trodden
by horses' hoofs. There were the marks of many more horses than our
five, and it suddenly flashed across me that my friends had been
attacked by a strong party of horsemen, while I was descending into the
well, and that they had been forced to take to their horses and get
away. It must have been a sudden affair, otherwise Faris would not have
left his saddle-bags behind; and the pursuit must have been a swift and
long one, since the victors had not returned to loot the saddle-bags. I
failed to understand it, and I gave up thinking about it. I had enough
to do to arrange for my own salvation.

I might have to walk for many days before reaching the Euphrates and
without coming across a habitation. I therefore made up my mind to go
well provided with food. I would carry a saddle-bag, with food, tobacco
and pipe in one end, and, as a balance, I would carry a partly-filled
water-skin in the other end. With such a supply I could travel, for a
week or more, through the most parched country. I knew approximately
whereabouts I was, as Faris had told me, as we rode to the well, that we
had reached a point which must be about midway between the two great
rivers. So, whether I walked due south, or south-east, I was bound to
strike eventually either the Euphrates or the Tigris; and, provided that
I did not meet with any roaming Bedouins on the way, I should find
villages near whichever river I came to, when, I did not doubt, the Arab
peasants would befriend me. In cold blood, such a journey as I proposed
to take on foot would have been simple madness; but, as I was situated,
there was nothing else to be done. I had to go somewhere, and I
naturally decided to return by the way that I had come.

I shouldered my saddle-bag and set out on my tramp, without so much as a
regret at leaving the spot. As I followed the track of the horses, it
occurred to me that I was making a mistake; for, judging by the
hoof-prints, my friends had fled in this direction, and had been pursued
by the host of horsemen, who in all probability would, some time or
another, retrace their steps to the well, in order to look for booty.
Thus they might run into me at any moment, when, of course, I should
lose everything that I possessed, if not also my life. So afraid was I
of such a disaster, now that I had my precious Girdle on my person, that
I struck away from the track at once, and even ran, in order to try and
get out of sight I now took a south-easterly course, and succeeded in
covering a good many miles before sundown. I laughed at the idea of
sleep; and knowing how to keep my direction by the stars, I rejoiced in
the safety of the darkness, and in the cold night air. Now and again I
was obliged to stop and rest, as my legs refused to carry me, and on
these occasions I fell asleep as soon as I touched the ground, but
usually to wake with a start and push on again.

On the following day I walked almost continuously, keeping my eyes on
the look-out in all directions, and dreading the appearance of Bedouin
horsemen. Twice I saw small parties on the horizon, when I lay as flat
as possible on the ground for more than an hour each time, and thus
avoided being seen. I was more than pleased with my day's work, and when
night came on, I ate, drank, and smoked. I cannot say that I was happy,
but I was as happy as, under the circumstances, it was possible to be.
That night, in spite of the cold, I slept long and soundly, and when I
arose some time before daybreak, though terribly stiff, I felt much
refreshed, and ready for another long march. In this manner, always
marvelling at my powers of endurance, I walked for four nights and three
whole days, with seldom a long rest. Then recurred the old thought that
I was mad. Madmen, I said to myself, can perform feats impossible to
sane people. No sane man could have lived through all this. Yet, I was
still alive. I lighted my pipe, and blessed it as a comforter. I began
to think that I was all right after all; and when I had finished
smoking, I got up and strode ahead.

I had kept a careful mental note of the number of hours (as far as I was
able to reckon them) that I walked, and I estimated that I averaged
about two miles an hour. When I stopped for a sleep at the end of the
fourth night, I totalled up my distance, and calculated that I had
covered just over a hundred and thirty miles, which I considered by no
means a bad performance. I thought that it might be even a record.

Early on the morning of the fourth day, I saw a long line of trees in
the distance, and I felt certain that it marked the course of the
Tigris. I was right; and within a few hours I was rapidly approaching
the great rolling river, with its waters sparkling in the sun. For days
I had lived for this moment, and feeling that I was almost done, I
staggered along, until I reached the water's edge, when, without
troubling to remove my clothes, I walked in up to my chest, and revelled
in my bath. After a while I returned to the bank, and, thoroughly
refreshed, sat down to gaze on the glorious scene. I could see no
village anywhere; but I lay back, contented and happy, and watched the
flocks of sand-grouse flying in from the desert for their morning drink.
They came in myriads, each taking its mouthful of water, and without
resting, returning at once, miles away, to the burning sands. I
shuddered when I thought of the pitiless wastes where they had their
homes. Never again would I voluntarily go back to the desert.

The river to me was life. Why I could not say, unless it was because I
knew that somewhere downstream lay Baghdad, where was peace, quiet, and
rest. But how was I to reach my goal? I certainly could not walk much
farther, and it would be no easy matter to walk along the overgrown
banks of the winding river. A boat, or a raft, was what I wanted, but I
did not see the prospect of obtaining either. In a book, I argued with
myself, when the hero had arrived at the stage at which I had now
arrived, he would find logs and ropes and such-like things to his hand,
and would construct a raft in no time. Unfortunately, I was not the hero
of a book, but a stern reality, and consequently there were no rafting
materials anywhere about. My clothes were heavy with water, and I was
footsore and weary, but I struggled slowly along the river-side, and
prayed for the sight of a village.

Presently, on coming round a bend of the river, I saw a solitary
fisherman paddling his kufa close inshore. I ran forward and hailed him,
but at the sound of my voice he was seized with terror, and, dipping in
his paddle, made off as fast as possible. I shouted after him that I was
his friend, and that I would pay him handsomely if he would take me in
his boat, so after a little he came cautiously back. I could see that he
was half afraid and half curious, but my mention of money had impelled
him to return and inspect me.

"How far is it to the city?" I shouted.

"A long way," he replied.

"How many days in your boat?" I asked.

"A full day and part of a night, without a rest," said he.

"Will you take me there?" I inquired, as he drew near.

"Impossible," he replied, "I have my fishing to attend to."

"But," I said, "I will pay you more money than you can earn by your
fishing in a whole year."

The boat was now close to me, and without more ado I jumped straight
into it. I was determined not to lose this chance, even if I had to
throw the fisherman overboard. I knew that my strength was fast going. I
might last as far as Baghdad, if I could sit quietly in the boat, but I
could walk not another mile. My friend, who, I found, was an old man,
was somewhat surprised at my action; but when I explained to him that I
was an Ingleezee who had lost his way in the desert, he scented money,
and told me that he was willing to do whatever I should wish.

"Where is your village?" I asked.

"About two hours up stream," he replied.

"Well," said I, "you cannot return there now. You must take me to the
city first, and when you return with a bag full of kerans, all your
friends will be pleased with you."

"How many kerans did you say, Beg?" asked the old man.

"How many do you want?" I asked.

"Twenty," said he, evidently asking twice as much as he expected to get.

"Then," said I, "you shall have twenty when we reach the city, and if we
pass under the bridge ere the sun has risen to-morrow morning, you shall
have thirty."

The fisherman's face was radiant with joy at the prospect of such a
haul.

"When will you start?" he asked.

"Now, at once, as quickly as possible," I replied.

"It is good," said he, plunging in his paddle with a will, and making
the circular tub swing from side to side.

We were soon out in the current, and travelling at a fair speed. Never
had I been in such a blissful state of contentment and ease, as I lay
curled round at the bottom of the boat, with my eyes just looking over
the edge. We passed other fishermen, and here and there a village; but
the paddler kept to his course, and paid no attention to anything except
the business in hand. I was too excited to sleep; moreover, I thoroughly
enjoyed the river scene, and delighted in the verdure of the banks,
which I found a pleasant relief to my eyes, nearly burnt out of my head
by the perpetual glare of the desert. By sunset we had accomplished
much; and soon after dusk the old man made known to me that the thirty
kerans were as good as his; we should certainly reach the bridge before
daylight.

Hour after hour of the dark night we continued our voyage; and it was
still dark when the Arab ceased paddling, and, turning half round,
whispered, "See, the city is at hand."

I strained my eyes, and peered into the darkness; before long, I could
see the tops of the buildings outlined against the sky; and my heart
almost stopped beating. It all seemed too good to be true. Yet, there
they were. There could be no mistake. Then I distinctly heard the swish
of the water at the bridge, and day was just breaking as we swept under
it. All was silent; Baghdad was still sleeping. I knew a landing-place,
a little below the Residency, and thither I directed the paddler to take
his kufa. A moment later he jumped ashore, and hauled up the boat.

It was but a step to Edwards's house, and bidding my friend follow me, I
dragged my stiff limbs up the steep pathway. I reached the gateway and
hammered on the barred door; but, before it was opened, I dropped
senseless to the ground.




CHAPTER XXVI

A HAVEN OF REST.


Of what happened after this I have no recollection whatever, and it was
not until many days later that I was in a fit state to be told anything.
Then my good friend George Edwards doled out scraps of news in a
niggardly manner, and refused to allow me to do much talking. He,
however, set my mind at rest on one point. He himself had removed the
Golden Girdle from my body, and it had been locked up in the Residency
safe.

In the course of time I learned everything, and I had much to hear,
though not more than I had to tell the Consul-General and Edwards, who,
as I became convalescent, spent many hours of each day sitting with me.
I had not yet been allowed to see the Girdle, I supposed because my
doctor thought that the sight of it might upset me; and he confessed to
me afterwards that, for a long time, he had doubted whether the shock
that I had evidently received would not permanently affect my reason.
Strange as it may seem, I had no immediate wish to see the thing. I felt
that I was afraid to look at it. It might not really be what I
imagined--the true Golden Girdle of the Great Queen. I asked Edwards to
describe it, but he told me that he had hardly examined it, as the
Consul-General had locked it up at once, and would not allow it to be
taken out of the safe until I should be well enough to inspect it with
him. That it was the Golden Girdle, Edwards affirmed, there could be no
doubt whatever. He had seen enough to be certain on that point.

"What became of the boatman who brought me down here, and saved my
life?" I asked. "You have never mentioned him."

"Well," said Edwards, "I will tell you all about it. I was sleeping
peacefully, when my boy rushed up on to the roof, and nearly upset my
bed in his eagerness to wake me. He told me a garbled tale, about two
men having come to the door; that one of the men was dead, and that the
other man said that the dead man was an Ingleezee whom he had found in
the river. So I bolted down, and heard what the old Arab had to say, and
then I overhauled you, and you can imagine my astonishment when I
eventually discovered who you were. You had been reported as drowned
weeks before, we had had courts of inquiry about it all; and had wired
and written home to your people. The whole thing was a mystery,
especially when I learned that the boatman had found you miles above
Baghdad, and you were supposed to have been drowned on the way down to
Bussorah. However, as I found that you were not actually dead, I had you
carried indoors, and we soon took your clothes off. Then I came across
the gold belt, and I knew that you had been at that desperate game
again; so I sent off to the Consul-General, asking him to come round as
quickly as possible. He nearly had a fit, and it was a long time before
he could believe his eyes. After a bit, he went off with the belt and
your boatman, and having investigated the matter thoroughly, paid the
old man the thirty kerans which he said you had promised him, and gave
him another five as bakhshish."

"He deserved every penny of it," said I; "for, if it had not been for
him, I should never have seen Baghdad again."

"There you are right," said Edwards. "You ran things about as close as
possible, and you may thank your stars that you tumbled across the
fisherman when you did."

The next matter of interest which Edwards related to me was the fate of
the unfortunate Kellner. I had told him what I had heard from Daud about
his death, but I was surprised to hear that Edwards himself had been
with Kellner when he died. Just after I was supposed to have been
drowned, the Turkish Governor at Hillah had sent word to say that the
German in his hospital was thought to be dying, and that he had
expressed a wish to see me or Edwards, or both of us if possible. The
Consul-General sent Edwards off to Hillah at once, with a small escort,
and when he reached the place, he found Kellner still alive, though in a
state of collapse. He lived, however, for another three days, during
which time Edwards remained with him continuously, and received from his
lips his dying confession--for by no other name can it be called. It was
a wretched story, and I was really sorry for the poor fellow. As far as
daring and pluck went, if anyone deserved to succeed, he certainly did;
but, of course, he had been ill-advised.

From what he told Edwards--and he was most anxious to tell him all--it
seems that he was in the employ of a South African millionaire, who was
a great collector, and who, in some way, had got possession of my
uncle's secret. Kellner, much to his credit, refused to tell the name of
his employer, but he made a clean breast of everything else. As I had
imagined when I came across him at the Birs Nimroud, he had been put on
to my track from the very beginning, and, when I thought of it all, I
was astounded at the cunning of the man. In one way and another he had
got an immense amount of information out of me during the voyage, and
before we reached Baghdad he had made himself acquainted with the
contents of all my papers. In one matter I was greatly interested:
Kellner and I had jumped together at the document relating to Shahzadi's
shoe; but he had an advantage over me, in that his employer had given
him instructions to seek out the Jew Mersina, take him into his
confidence, make him his agent, and promise him a large reward. Money
was to be no object; the Girdle was to be obtained at any cost.

Kellner found Yusuf Mersina the very man for his purpose, a man with a
rapid brain, who weighed the pros and cons of everything carefully, and
who, having once formed his plans, never hesitated. Now, the Jew had
spies and friends all over the country, and as soon as he heard of the
paper about Shahzadi's shoe, and the defunct Munshi of Kerbela, he
decided to take Kellner to that town, and see what could be discovered
there. They were in Kerbela some days before Edwards and I had started
from Baghdad; and Mersina went straight to the Hindu astrologer, whom
Daud subsequently consulted. Mersina was an old client, and always paid
well for information and advice, so the astrologer received him with
open arms. He did not, however, altogether like having anything to do
with the Golden Girdle, the history of which was well known to him; but,
after a time, he confessed that he knew where it was, though, as the
secret was his own and his alone, it would require much money to
purchase it. In the end, terms were agreed upon: a goodly sum down, and
a still larger sum if the Girdle were secured. Kellner was astonished to
hear that it was no longer buried, but, as Mersina told him that the
astrologer never lied, he was forced to believe what he said.

The next step was to open up communications with the Seer of Katib, who,
according to the astrologer, possessed the Girdle. He himself had had a
quarrel with the seer, and could not, therefore, communicate with him;
but there happened to be in Kerbela at that time a Bedouin sheik, who,
if paid adequately, would doubtless be able to obtain the Girdle. This
sheik was the Shammar Abbas-ibn-Mirshid, and Kellner and Mersina were
soon introduced to him. After matters had been satisfactorily arranged,
Mersina returned to Baghdad, and Kellner became the guest of Abbas,
accompanying him to his temporary camp near Babil. Kellner now confided
in Abbas, and told him about me, and how important it was that I should
be balked in my attempt to obtain the Girdle, explaining that he thought
it quite possible that I might know that Raspul had it. Abbas decided to
watch the Baghdad road and to check my progress, but as Kellner refused
to allow him to do me any bodily harm, he contented himself with the
theft of my money, under the impression that that would be sufficient to
delay me. Why he did not wait to see the result Kellner did not say,
but, apparently, they thought it best to get away in the direction of
the ruins of Katib as quickly as possible.

What happened after this I knew, or had guessed correctly. Raspul had
agreed to sell the Girdle to Abbas for two thousand kerans, and to bring
it to a certain place at a certain time. But Faris upset all their plans
by overwhelming the Shammar and killing Abbas. All this Edwards and I
had heard from Daud, and Kellner threw very little fresh light on the
events that followed. He maintained, however, that when he rode away
with the Girdle, he was unaccountable for his actions. He was under the
delusion that the Shammar intended to murder him, and when he found
himself pursued, he felt bound to defend himself with his revolver. The
terrible privations that he underwent from that time until he found
himself at the Birs Nimroud put all my own experiences in the shade,
and, as I listened to Edwards, I could not help wondering why my luck
should have been so good and Kellner's so bad. It would appear that he
never heard that Mersina had played him false, and he fully imagined
that the Birs Nimroud Jews had taken the Girdle to Mersina, who was to
retain it until he arrived to claim it. In proof of this he gave
Edwards a note to convey to Mersina, whom he instructed to hand over the
Girdle, on payment of a certain sum, for conveyance to the British
Museum. He expressed many regrets that I had been drowned, and it pained
him to think that I had not lived to receive his apologies for the way
in which he had treated me.

The pathos of the story made a great impression on me, and I grieved at
the thought that Kellner's end had been such a sad one. But Edwards
quite restored my spirits by describing how, for a time, armed with
Kellner's note, he had sought Mersina, in the full expectation of
acquiring the Girdle, and of taking it home to my uncle.

"You see," said he, laughing, "I could have made a very good story out
of all our adventures in pursuit of it, and everyone would have thought
that I was no end of a hero."

"Not you, George," said I, "I know you well enough."

"I wonder what became of Mersina," said Edwards.

"As I told you," said I, "Daud fancied that he had cleared off with his
ill-gotten gains, to start afresh in Syria or Egypt. I am rather glad,
though, that he let in that scoundrel of an astrologer. He is a bad lot,
I am sure. He gave away poor old Raspul, and he tried to give away
Mersina to the Turks. But it was a case of the biter bitten that time."

"That is all fair enough in this part of the world," said Edwards. "The
Turks themselves would give away the astrologer, or anyone else, without
a blush, if they thought it to their own advantage to do so. But, as a
rule, they find it more profitable to let the various badmashes cut each
others' throats."

It was a great disappointment to me to find, when I was well enough to
think of such things, that all my letters from home, of which I was told
there had been a number, had been packed up, with my other belongings,
and sent home to my people, directly after I had disappeared from the
steamer. I had written very fully to my uncle as soon as Edwards and I
had returned from our wanderings, and I had hoped that I should now find
answers to my letters; but the only home news that I received was in a
note which my mother had written to Edwards. There was nothing much in
it, except thanks for the care which he had bestowed on me when we were
together in the desert, and a request that he would take the greatest
care of my health, and not allow me to run any further risks. Still,
even that short letter was something; it was in my mother's handwriting,
and it brought me nearer home. Since she had written it, however, she
had heard of my death, and all my papers and clothes had probably
reached her. But there was just a chance that the telegram announcing my
safety might have arrived before my boxes, and I hoped that it had been
so. My one thought now was to get home as quickly as possible, but my
gaoler damped all my ardour by telling me that he certainly would not
let me think of the journey for another month or six weeks.

Among my earliest visitors was the captain of the river steamer, who had
quite forgiven me for all the trouble that I had been to him, though he
warned me that if I ever took passage with him again, he would have me
chained to my berth. As I had surmised, my absence from the steamer was
not discovered until some hours after I had gone. The steward had
brought a cup of tea to my cabin, and finding it empty, and that the bed
had not been slept in, went and reported matters to the captain. Then
the steamer was searched from stem to stern, and a whole day wasted in
sending boats up the river to look for me. At last the search was
abandoned, the captain coming to the conclusion that I must have walked
overboard in my sleep. He laughed heartily over his story, and though,
of course, I apologised most humbly for having deceived him, I inwardly
enjoyed the description of his discomfiture.

I promised him that I would never willingly jump overboard again, and we
remained the best of friends.

So the time dragged on, and I began to have a craving to see the Golden
Girdle which the Consul-General guarded so jealously. I noticed that
none of my visitors ever referred to it, and if I happened to mention
it, they promptly changed the subject. I grew suspicious, and one day I
suddenly tackled Edwards.

"Why is it," I asked, "that you will never speak about my Girdle?"

"I am always talking about it," said he.

"Not to me," said I. "Is it still safe and sound?"

"Perfectly," he replied.

"Then I propose," said I, "that we shall have a grand inspection of it."

"Not just at present," said Edwards, "I do not think that you are strong
enough."

"Look here, George," I said, "I believe that you are keeping something
from me."

"I swear I am not," said he.

"Then," said I, "you are under the impression that, if I gaze on the
Golden Girdle, something will go wrong with my brain."

I saw Edwards colour, and I was convinced that I had hit the nail on the
head. But our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a telegram
for me. My people had already spent a mint of money in telegraphing
congratulations, and in asking almost daily after my health; but the
telegram which I now received contained a huge surprise. It was from my
uncle, who said that he and my father had decided to come out to Baghdad
and bring me home, and that I was to remain until their arrival. They
were starting at once, and it was a great joy to me to think that,
within five or six weeks, I should be free, and moreover, have no
further responsibility for the Girdle, of which my uncle would himself
be able to take charge. I now found, after a lengthy talk with my
doctor, that he was painfully superstitious about the Girdle; he was
evidently afraid that when it was let loose from the safe, something
dreadful would happen, and I laughed at his fears. He was greatly
relieved at the news that my uncle was coming out, as he did not like
the idea of my going off alone with the dreadful serpent belt.

"Of course," he said, "you will not think of examining your treasure
now, until your uncle arrives."

"To tell you the truth," I replied, "I intend to ask the Consul-General
this afternoon if it will be convenient to him to hold the inquest on it
to-morrow."

"Well," said Edwards, "I suppose you will get your own way, as you
usually do. Shall I be expected to be present?"

"Naturally," said I, "who else will make the post mortem?"

That evening I strolled down to the Residency, as I was now allowed to
do, and sat among the orange trees talking to the Consul-General who, I
discovered, shared my eagerness to inspect the Girdle. He confessed to
me that on more than one occasion he had surreptitiously peeped into the
safe, but as the belt still had my rope wound round it, he could not
satisfy his curiosity to any extent, and he did not like to take off the
rope until he had my permission to do so.

"Has it ever struck you, sir," I said, "that our friend Edwards is a
little bit afraid of it?"

"Well, do you know," he replied, "now that you mention it, I believe
that he is. I have suggested once or twice that we should ask you to
show us your prize, and he has always put me off by saying that he did
not think that your nerves were strong enough to stand the strain, as
the sight of the Girdle would bring back so many memories."

I laughed outright, and vouchsafed that, in my opinion, the person with
the shaky nerves was Edwards himself.

The words were hardly out of my mouth than I saw the subject of our
conversation striding across the courtyard towards us.

"You look as if you had something very important to tell us, George,"
said I.

"So I have," he replied. "News that will set you thinking."

"I know what it is," I said. "The Golden Girdle has escaped, and you
have seen it flying back towards the desert."

"I almost wish that I had," said Edwards.

"If you talk like that," said the Consul-General, sharply, "I shall have
to ship you off on six months sick leave. Your nerves are giving way."

When I looked at Edwards's face, I was of the same opinion.




CHAPTER XXVII.

VISITORS.


"I am all right," said Edwards, "but I have just seen someone, and heard
something which has upset me a little. Whom do you think I have been
talking to, Walter?" he asked, turning to me.

"I give it up," said I. "Who was it?"

"Well, I will tell you," said Edwards. "I was walking my horse over the
bridge, when I met a very smart-looking Persian gentleman on foot, and
as I came up to him, to my astonishment he salaamed to me, and addressed
me as 'Hakim.' I knew his face, but I could not put a name to it. So I
stopped and began to talk to him. He hastily told me to go on across the
bridge, and wait for him a little way out in the country, as he did not
wish to be seen by the Baghdadis in my company. I now recognised his
voice, and glancing round, I made certain that I was right. It was our
old friend Sedjur--beautifully disguised. Getting well away from the
town, I waited for him, and when he came up, gave him a warm welcome.
Then, in reply to my inquiries, he told me what he was doing in Baghdad.
He was tracking Yusuf Mersina, who, he said, was supposed to be in
Baghdad, with the Golden Girdle in his possession. So far, he had not
been able to hear anything of him. I was afraid to tell him a word about
your exploits, or that he might ease his mind about the Girdle, because,
honest though I believe Sedjur to be, one can never be quite certain
what these people are up to. I was going to ask him if he knew that you
were alive, when we saw people coming along in the distance, and he
begged me to leave him. I did not do so, however, until I had learned
from him that his father is also here."

"What, my brother Faris?" I exclaimed. "How extraordinary."

"Yes," continued Edwards, "and, what is more, they are both coming down
to see me to-night. Sedjur said that he knew the Residency, and would
drop down in a kufa, so as to be under the wall here as the moon rose. I
promised to meet him, and give him protection as long as he was within
the precincts of the Residency."

"You were making somewhat free of His Majesty's property," laughed the
Consul-General.

"I am sorry, sir," said Edwards, "but I thought that you would be
interested to see these two friends of ours, about whom you have heard
so much."

"I was only joking," said the Consul-General. "I shall be delighted to
welcome them. The moon rises at about eleven o'clock, if I am not
mistaken. Do you think that Henderson ought to sit up so late?"

"I shall be here, sir," said I, looking defiantly at my medical adviser,
"even if I have to go back to bed for another month. I cannot miss
seeing Faris and Sedjur."

It was therefore arranged that we should dine at 8.30 at the Residency,
and afterwards make a night of it. But, in the meanwhile, Edwards
marched me back to his house for two or three hours' rest, though, as a
matter of fact, he kept me busy talking for most of the time.

"What do you imagine that Faris and Sedjur are doing here?" he asked me.

"Looking for Mersina, I suppose," I answered. "But I think that they
must be on the wrong scent."

"I must say," said Edwards, "that I do not like the look of things. If
Mersina has come back to Baghdad, you may be certain that he knows that
you got the Girdle; and, as likely as not, he is planning a burglary or
something of the kind. I do not suppose that Faris and Sedjur are in
with him."

"In any case," said I, "I do not see that it matters. Mersina cannot
burgle the safe."

"Perhaps not," said Edwards, "but he might murder or gag the
Consul-General in his sleep, and take the key."

"You are a fearful alarmist, George," said I. "Do not worry about the
matter, until you hear what the Sheik and Sedjur have to tell us. I am
quite excited at the prospect of seeing them again, and hearing what
happened to them at the Devil's Well, when they let me go."

Dinner that night was a dull affair. Edwards was morbidly gloomy; I, if
not actually depressed, was thoughtful; and our host altogether failed
to enliven us. Afterwards, we sat and smoked in the Consul-General's
sanctum, overhanging the river, until the hour for which we waited
approached. Then Edwards, looking at his watch, rose, and walked out to
the low parapet which bordered the river, to meet the expected Bedouins.
A few minutes later the door opened, and Edwards ushered in Faris and
Sedjur. My heart gave a leap when I saw them again, but instinctively I
stooped over the table with my back towards the door, so that I should
not be recognised. As soon as the Consul-General's greeting was over I
turned suddenly, and, facing Faris, held out my hand.

"Brother," I said, "have you so soon forgotten me?"

The look of amazement and joy that came over the faces of father and son
I shall never forget, and throughout the long discussion that followed,
I constantly observed each of them glancing furtively at me, as if still
doubtful whether I were flesh and blood.

How we talked! First, I had to give my version of my escape from the
well, and so often did they interrupt me with questions, that I was a
long time relating all that had happened to me.

"And where now is this accursed serpent belt?" asked Faris, when I had
concluded.

"Locked up securely," answered the Consul-General "and where it now is
there will it remain, until I myself take it out."

"Marvellous!" said Faris, addressing me. "On more than one occasion,
brother, you forbade me to call you 'magician,' yet henceforward shall I
call you by no other name. For, of a truth, to have raised yourself from
the dead entitles you to that name."

"I care little," said I, with a laugh, "how I am called, now that I have
accomplished my task. But, tell us of your own adventures. How was it
that you let go the rope? And who was the man whom I saw lying dead
among the rocks?"

"That," said the sheik, "must have been the Jew Jusuf Mersina, and I
hurled him there with my own arms."

"Then why," I asked, "have you now come to Baghdad to seek him? I do not
understand."

"Because," said Faris, "we believed that he had not been killed by the
fall, but had escaped with the serpent belt, which the astrologer of
Kerbela afterwards told us was here in Baghdad. But I will tell you
everything, and then you will understand, for you must have thought that
I was guilty of the crime of abandoning my brother, whom I had sworn to
defend and succour for all time."

The sheik, assisted by Sedjur, then related fully all that occurred at
the fatal moment when the rope by which I was suspended suddenly gave
way. My conjectures were fairly correct. Faris lay watching me slowly
descending towards the Girdle, when, without any warning, a wild shout
was raised close behind him, and looking back he saw a party of horsemen
galloping down on him. The Aeniza who was at the tail of the rope,
quickly took a hitch round the rearmost spear, and each man ran to his
horse. Faris immediately recognised the leader of his assailants as
Mersina, and, throwing his horse's bridle to Sedjur, rushed at him and
unhorsed him. The Jew fought tooth and nail, but Faris was too strong
for him, and managed to drag him towards the edge of the well. Then it
was that the Jew, in desperation, clutched at the spear which held my
rope. To Faris's consternation, it flew out of the ground, and my weight
immediately carried away the remaining spear and the rope. In his rage
at my fate, he lifted Mersina bodily from the ground, and hurled him
into the depths below. Turning round, he saw that the others of his
party were hotly engaged with their enemies, and keeping them at bay
until the sheik should mount his horse. The spears of both Faris and
Sedjur had disappeared into the well, so the former, deeming it hopeless
to stand and fight, gave the signal to his party to disengage and break
away, trusting to the speed of his horses to get clear. This was
successfully accomplished, for though the pursuit continued for several
hours, Faris and his three followers rapidly out-distanced their
pursuers, and during the night made good their escape.

Daud, unfortunately, had sustained, during the fight, an ugly spear
wound in the thigh, and the severe ride that followed had not improved
its condition; consequently, Faris decided to take him to the nearest
village by the Euphrates, and leave him there with his old companion,
the Aeniza, while the sheik and his son returned to reconnoitre towards
the well. Having seen Daud safely deposited in the village, my two
friends retraced their steps, and soon discovered that the hostile
horsemen had not gone back to the well, but had struck away to the
north-west, which seemed to confirm the opinion that Daud had expressed
that Mersina's adherents belonged to the kafila of the great sheik who
had purchased the Golden Girdle, and had afterwards thrown it into the
Devil's Well.

When the well was reached, they shouted down into it, and continuously
called to me by name, but getting no reply, they concluded that I had
been killed by my fall. So they gave me up as lost, and proceeded to
gather up their saddle-bags. One, they found, had disappeared, but they
thought that it might have been on the back of my horse, which the enemy
had captured and carried off. Before leaving, however, curiosity
impelled them to look once more at the Golden Girdle, but though they
were certain of the exact spot where it had lain, they were unable to
see it. Of this, at the time, they thought little, because dusk was
already coming on, and they rode all night towards the Euphrates, which
they reached next day.

At the village they had to wait for some little time, until Daud had
recovered sufficiently to travel, when he went to Kerbela, to endeavour
to find out from his friend the astrologer if he had heard of the fate
of Mersina and the Girdle. The Hindu appeared to know some of the events
that had taken place. He knew that the Girdle had been thrown into the
well, and he knew that Mersina had taken a party there to try and
recover it. Furthermore, he stated that he had discovered, by
divination, that the belt of gold had been taken from the well, and was
in Baghdad, hinting at the same time that it was with the Jew Mersina.
This information Daud had obtained only quite recently, and as soon as
Faris and Sedjur heard it, they set out for Baghdad, in search of
Mersina and the Girdle, while Daud remained in Kerbela, with the hope of
picking up fresh news.

"Then you thought," said I, "that I was dead."

"We felt certain of it," said Faris, "otherwise I should have remained
at the well until I had rescued you."

"Why, then," I asked, "since you believed me to be dead, should you have
taken any further trouble about Mersina and the Girdle?"

"Because," replied the sheik, "I considered that I was responsible for
your death, and I intended to come and confess all to the good Hakim.
But I was unwilling to do so unless I could bring to him, for
presentation to your family, the Great Queen's belt, which had cost you
your life. Now that I know that you are alive, and have reaped your
reward, I can return to the desert in happiness."

"There to await," said I, "the coming of Shahzadi's shoe."

"Nay," said the sheik, with a surprised look, "that can never be now;
for I failed to carry out my part of the bargain."

"Who was it, then," I asked, "who lowered me into the well, from which I
recovered the Girdle? Except through you, my brother, I should never
have obtained it; and, as Daud will be rewarded by the sum which was
promised to him, so also shall Shahzadi's shoe be bestowed on
Faris-ibn-Feyzul. Even this day," I continued, "have I sent a message to
my friends, who are coming from the big house across the seas to take
back Sophana's belt, that they should bring with them the shoe which you
desire to possess."

The two Bedouins were delighted, and for some minutes continued to pour
out volumes of thanks. Then the Consul-General suggested that the hours
had slipped by and that soon day would break. Without wishing to hurry
the departure of his guests, he thought that they would desire to leave
while it was still dark.

"When, sheik," he asked, addressing Faris, "do you propose to quit
Baghdad?"

"We shall leave," replied Faris, "within a few hours. So soon, that is,
as we can get our horses and ride away."

"But before you go," said the Consul-General, "you would doubtless like
to see with your own eyes, and perhaps touch, this great treasure in
which you have been so deeply interested. What says our hero? Eh,
Henderson?"

Observing the eagerness depicted on the sheik's countenance, I readily
acquiesced, and the Consul-General took out his keys and walked to the
safe in the corner of the room. As he did so, my eyes happened to turn
towards Edwards. He was clutching convulsively at his chair, and his
face had lost all colour. The key turned in the lock with a sharp click;
at the same moment Edwards rose from his chair, and, saying that he did
not feel well, walked out of the room into the open air. I was so
engrossed with the opening of the safe, that I paid little attention to
Edwards's action; and, almost trembling with excitement, I watched the
Consul-General lift up the mass of intertwined rope and gold. It was
just as I had last seen it, and when it had been placed on the table in
front of Faris, I explained that it was thus that I had bound it to my
body when first I recovered it from the bottom of the Devil's Well.

The Girdle was partly concealed by the rope, and in order that it might
be seen the better, I commenced to disentangle it; but I had hardly
unwound one turn of the rope than a wild cry from outside electrified
us. Dropping the rope and Girdle, I rushed to the door, followed by
Faris and Sedjur; for the cry was an unmistakable call for help, and the
voice I knew to be that of Edwards. As I crossed the room, I had time to
notice that the Consul-General snatched up the Girdle from the table,
and, instantly locking it up in the safe, ran after us, to reach the
courtyard simultaneously with Sedjur. By the side of the wall above the
river, I saw Edwards standing in the moonlight, and looking down into
the water.

"What is the matter, old chap," I asked, as I ran up to him.

"I am afraid it is a bad business," said Edwards, "but it served him
right, whoever he is. There he is, down in that kufa."

We all looked over the edge of the embankment, and we could see below
us, in the dim light, a kufa, with the figure of a man lying across the
gunwale, the head and shoulders at the bottom of the boat, and the legs
trailing in the water over the side.

[Illustration: "WE COULD SEE BELOW US ... THE FIGURE OF A MAN LYING
ACROSS THE GUNWALE"]

"See that he does not escape," shouted Edwards. "He may not be dead."

Quick as thought, Sedjur ran to where his own kufa was fastened, jumped
down into it, and soon brought it alongside the other one. Faris and I
then assisted to drag the man up and lay him on the ground, while
Edwards obtained a lamp from indoors, and made an examination. The man
was dead, his skull having been crushed and his neck broken. Death,
Edwards declared, must have been instantaneous; and, with some
excitement, he told us what had taken place. Feeling faint, he had
walked out into the courtyard, and was sitting on one of the seats in
the fresh air, when he suddenly saw a figure climb stealthily over the
wall from the direction of the river, and creep towards the room where
we were seated. Thinking that something was wrong, Edwards rushed across
to the intruder, but the man was too quick for him, and fled back to the
river-side. Edwards, however, shouting for help, succeeded in cutting
him off, and was able to seize, for a second, the end of his cloak as
the man leapt over the wall into the river. Whether the fugitive knew
that his kufa was immediately below him, and had intended to jump into
it, no one can say; but it was evident that the effect of Edwards's
temporary hold on his cloak was to throw him off his balance, so that he
pitched headlong into the bottom of the boat from a height of some
fifteen feet or more.

Holding the lamp to the dead man's face, we sought to identify him, and
Faris instantly uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"Wallah!" said he, "it is Shustri, the astrologer."

"Wallah!" exclaimed Sedjur, "and he told Daud that he was going to
Damascus."

"Without a doubt," said Faris, "he had come here to steal the Serpent
Belt; but death overtakes even a man who knows all things, and who can
converse with the dead."

There were already signs of day, and Faris was anxious to depart.

"Twere better," said he "that this man's body should not remain here;
for if it became known that such an one had perished in this place, then
would it have an evil reputation for all time. We will therefore take
the body and the kufa a little way with us, and let them float away in
mid-stream, until, if Allah wills, they reach the great Shattu'l Arab."

None of us dissented, and within a few minutes we had grasped the hands
of our Bedouin friends, and had seen them drop down into their kufa.
Then we lowered the body of the Hindu into the other boat, and Sedjur,
casting loose its rope, towed it astern, while Faris paddled away from
land. We stood watching the two black specks moving across the water,
until, in the growing daylight, we saw them part, the one slowly
ascending the river, and the other, caught by the current, sweeping down
stream, out of sight.




CHAPTER XXVIII.

MYSTERIES, SOLVED AND UNSOLVED.


The adventures of that memorable night laid me low for many a day to
come, and Edwards himself suffered a good deal from the shock of having
been, as he supposed, the cause of Shustri's death. I argued with him
that no blame whatever could possibly attach to him, since the ruffian
was evidently up to no good.

"There I am convinced that you are right," said Edwards; "for the
Consul-General picked up, just outside his study door, the most
diabolical looking knife you ever saw."

"Did he?" said I. "Then I expect he meant business."

"I suppose," said Edwards, after a long silence, "that you are too
matter of fact to believe in presentiments."

"I do not know," I replied. "They have never bothered me much. But why
do you ask?"

"Well," said my friend, "I will confess to you, in strict confidence,
that when you were brought in here that day, by your weird old Sinbad,
and I took the Golden Girdle from your waist, I felt a most
extraordinary sensation all over me. I cannot explain what it was like,
except that it was very similar to the feeling that I have when a cat is
anywhere near, about which you always laugh at me."

"My dear George," said I, "I would not dream of laughing at you. But go
on."

"The curious thing about it," said he, "was that I felt all right
directly the Consul-General locked up the Girdle. But I positively
dreaded seeing the thing again. It haunted me day and night, but I did
not like to mention my fears to anyone."

"At any rate," said I, "you did not conceal them very well. I noticed
that you looked blue whenever I suggested having a peep at my Girdle.
Poor chap, I wish I had known that you had got it so badly. How do you
feel now?"

"Since last night," said he, "I have become a different being, but I
felt pretty ill when the Consul-General unlocked the safe."

"I saw you," said I; "and I thought you were going to faint. What was
the matter?"

"I cannot describe it," said Edwards. "Something seemed to drag me out
of my chair, haul me out of the room, and plump me on a bench in the
courtyard. My whole body felt as if it were full of pins and needles,
darting about in all directions; and this sort of thing continued until
the man fell over the wall, when suddenly a delightful feeling of calm
spread over me. Now I fear nothing from your Golden Girdle; you might
take it out of the safe, and flourish it in front of my face, and I
would not move a muscle."

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, thinking that his mind was
unhinged, but he appeared to be quite rational, so I concluded that he
had suffered from some temporary delusion, and that he had recovered
from it. It struck me, however, as certainly most extraordinary that he
should have fought shy of the Girdle, and gone outside just in time to
frustrate the astrologer's evil designs. Afterwards, we discussed the
matter often, but the enigma remained unsolved; for it was difficult for
a plain, untutored brain like mine to follow my friend into the
intricate regions of telepathy, second sight, and psychology in general,
in which things he professed to be a believer. In the end, I formed my
own opinion, which I kept to myself: Edwards's fear of the Girdle was
superstitious dread, produced by the various stories which he had heard
of it; his experiences on the night of Shustri's death amounted to
nothing more than that, suffering from the same superstitious dread, he
had left the room at a certain moment, which moment happened to have
been selected by Shustri for his appearance on the scene. This I put
down as a mere coincidence, and whether my opinion was right or wrong,
no man will ever be able to decide. That there was reason enough for
superstitious dread I freely admit, and surely no one had more cause to
dread the sight of the Girdle than had I. As far as I was aware, death
had always followed swiftly after its appearance. Raspul the seer, Yusuf
Mersina, and Shustri the astrologer, had each and all been killed before
my very eyes, and when I reckoned up the deaths that had occurred within
my certain knowledge, they appeared to be legion. At times I found
myself speculating as to who would be the victim when next the safe was
unlocked; but each time such thoughts rose up I banished them from my
mind, as unworthy of a man of intelligence.

On such matters as these I had plenty of leisure to reflect, as I was on
my back for several weeks, and unable to do much more than think and
sometimes talk. During this time, however, I succeeded in getting into
communication with Sheik Daud; and, through the Indian pilgrim agent at
Kerbela, paid him his 5000 kerans. He sent a grateful message of thanks
to me, and expressed a hope that some day I would honour him by a visit
to his tents. But the most pleasant part of his message was the news
that he had sworn a perpetual truce with Faris and Sedjur. The two
latter, I learned, had gone away to join their people in the Hamad,
where they would remain until the coming of spring, or at any rate until
I should let them know that Shahzadi's shoe was waiting for them.

Slowly but surely the days and weeks passed. I had received a telegram
from Karachi, from my father, who told me that he and my uncle Ambrose
had got so far on their journey, and were just leaving for the Persian
Gulf. Ten days later, the river steamer panted past the Residency, and
Edwards and I were down at the wharf to greet the newcomers. It was a
great and glorious occasion, and I was astonished at the change that
seemed to have come over my uncle, with his tanned face and his
travelling suit taking the place of the colourless cheeks and dingy old
black coat to which I was accustomed. In my father I saw little
alteration. He was still the smart, soldierly-looking man that he had
always been; and looked no older than he did on the day when I had met
him at Southampton, on his return from South Africa.

"Well, Walter," said my uncle, after we had recovered from the
excitement of our first meeting, "is your golden treasure still safe and
sound?"

"Under lock and key at the Residency," I replied, "and only waiting for
your arrival to be properly inspected. The Consul-General will be away
until this evening, but he sent all sorts of messages to you, and that
there are rooms ready for you in the Residency. Have you brought
Shahzadi's shoe?"

"Yes," replied my uncle, "but I only got your wire in the nick of time."

Later in the day I told the tale of my second and successful hunt; for
my people had received no details, but merely the bald telegram that I
was alive and had secured the Girdle. That they were astonished at what
I had to tell them, I need not say, and the fuss they made over me was
quite embarrassing. My uncle, I thought, was somewhat upset by my
descriptions of the evil doings of the Girdle, and I could not refrain
from amusing myself by watching his face, whilst I enlarged on them.

"So," said my father, when I had concluded, "you have not let the terror
out of the safe since that night."

"No," said I, "we decided that we would restrain our impatience, in
order to give you a chance of taking part in the next séance. We thought
it would add to your interest in the Girdle, if you could witness a real
tragedy."

"What a bloodthirsty young villain you are," said my father, with a
laugh.

"Personally," said I, thinking it time to reassure my uncle, "I am quite
certain that nothing dreadful will happen again, and Edwards is of the
same opinion. He says that he no longer has the tingly feeling and he
has no presentiment of evil, both of which I consider good signs.
Moreover, he has elaborated a marvellous theory, though I myself cannot
follow it. He has worked it out by what he calls the "Law of the Three
_plus_ Five, equals Eight," and he argues something like this:--Raspul
was killed with the Golden Girdle in his hand, after having blown up
Three Shammar. Remember the number 3. Then when Kellner fled with the
Girdle and was pursued, he shot Five Shammar. Remember the number 5, and
the total 8. Now we begin with 3 again, the two Birs Nimroud Jews and
Yusuf Mersina; then four Shammar of the original party which stole the
Girdle, _plus_ Kellner, equals 5. Hence, we have two groups of 3 _plus_
5 equals 8----"

"Heavens alive!" interrupted my father, "are you going on with this much
longer?"

"Only a little more," said I, laughing, "but it is really interesting.
Edwards has spent a deal of time over it. Listen to his deductions. He
places the dead Raspul at one end of the Golden Girdle, and the dead
Shustri at the other end; and he maintains that as Raspul had directly
and indirectly caused the deaths of 8 men; so when Shustri had directly
or indirectly caused the deaths of a similar number, then the chain had
to be completed by his own death."

"With all due deference to the brain power of your worthy friend," said
my father, "I have never heard such a lot of rubbish in my life. I
should say that he required looking after. Is he all right otherwise?"

"Perfectly," said I. "But you have not heard quite all. We now go back
to the famous mare Shahzadi--the heroine of the shoe. You remember the
eight nail-holes. Well, because Shahzadi cast that eight-nailed shoe,
the Golden Girdle came into Raspul's possession, and gave him the mystic
number 8."

"And what about the numbers 3 and 5?" asked my uncle, who was listening
with all seriousness. "The doctor seems to have forgotten his 3 _plus_
5."

"I know," said I. "I attacked him about that, but was told politely that
I was dull of comprehension. Edwards explained it away by saying that
originally Shahzadi's shoe, of course, had 3 nail-holes on either side,
and if they had drilled the two new holes on the same side, then his
theory would have been proved undeniably. We should have had the 3
_plus_ 5 equals 8. As things are, he considers that the mare's hoof
probably would not stand having 5 nails on one side, and so they had to
equalise the number."

"Most ingenious!" said my father, "though a trifle weak. But your friend
thinks that the evil spirit which was in the Girdle has now flown, does
he not?"

"Yes," said I, "he is almost certain on that point, but he suggests
that, as there may possibly be what he terms 'a metallic sympathy'
between the Golden Girdle and the iron horse-shoe, it would be advisable
to lay up the shoe in the safe with the Girdle."

"Pooh!" said my father. "Is not the safe itself made of iron? That
should have settled the Girdle long ago, but apparently it did not."

"Not at all," said my uncle, to my astonishment, "it is not the same
thing. In my opinion, the doctor has reason on his side. We all know
that the ancients had a firm belief in the magical powers of iron, and
we all know something of the luck of a horse-shoe. At any rate, whether
there is anything in it or not, I shall uphold the doctor in his
opinions, and shall ask the Consul-General to place the shoe in the
safe, as soon as I meet him."

Thus it came about that, within a couple of hours, Shahzadi's shoe
joined the Golden Girdle in its iron prison. Possibly they had never
been so close before; yet it was but sixty years since only the height
of Shahzadi's withers separated them. Could the one have related to the
other its experiences during those six decades, the story would have
been well worth writing down, and much more interesting than my own
insignificant adventures.

Edwards was overjoyed when I told him what my uncle had done, and at
dinner that night he was quite light-hearted and gay. After dinner came
the great séance, whereat the death-dealing belt of serpents was to be
let loose among us. It was held in the Consul-General's study, in the
middle of which had been placed, for the occasion, a bare table--the
dissecting table, as Edwards jocosely termed it; and when the
Consul-General unlocked the safe, I think that more than one of us
expected something desperate to happen. But nothing extraordinary
occurred, and everyone craned forward, as I unrolled the rope, and left
the Girdle lying at full length on the table.

My uncle, as he took it in his hands and examined it, could not restrain
his delight, and, trembling visibly, he pronounced it to be the most
glorious and beautiful treasure that it had ever been his good fortune
to handle; even my father, who cared little for such things, was deeply
impressed; while I myself regretted none of the troubles that it had
cost me. I felt that I had not lived in vain. We were each allowed to
take it up and gaze on it for a while, and then it was handed back to my
uncle, for his more careful scrutiny.

"Egyptian," he said, "without a doubt, and of great age. Possibly a
present from an Egyptian king to Queen Sophana, or to one of her
ancestors. It is impossible, of course, to decide these matters until we
have it at the Museum, with other things to refer to. But, Walter, I
promise you that it will be found to be the most priceless work of art
that has ever been brought to light. I know of nothing that can approach
it in workmanship."

He then went on to discuss each detail of the Girdle, and as, on this
occasion and on several subsequent ones when he examined it again, I
acted in my old capacity of secretary and took shorthand notes of all
that he said, I am able to give a faithful description of the far-famed
belt of the Great Queen.

In length it was a trifle more than thirty inches; in depth it averaged
five inches, widening in the centre to almost seven inches. The twelve
snakes which composed it were twisted around one another in various
contortions; the heads of four of them formed the clasp, their bodies
intertwined with those of the snakes behind them; while the heads of the
eight other snakes projected, at regular intervals, a little distance
beyond either edge of the Girdle. In the centre, the bodies of two
snakes were coiled, so as to resemble a circular brooch, some seven
inches in diameter.

The delicacy of the workmanship can be understood when I say that the
body of each reptile was fashioned out of hundreds of tiny scales,
invisibly connected; and when one lifted the belt up at any point, the
remainder of it hung limp and quivering. So, also, when placed on the
table, the whole thing appeared to be alive, until each restless scale
had settled down. But this was not all; for the scales were so arranged
that when the Girdle lay flat and open, they closed tightly on each
other; yet, as soon as the Girdle was formed into a circle and clasped,
the scales on the inner side opened slightly. This peculiarity, we soon
discovered, was not unintentional. At my uncle's request, I, one day,
fastened the Girdle round my waist, and found that in removing it, it
caught in my clothes; then I fastened it next to my skin, when I
immediately felt an extraordinary sensation of pricking. We examined the
belt again most carefully, and at once became convinced that we had
fathomed the mystery of the evil results which we had heard followed the
wearing of the Girdle. It was quite evident to me that people, and
especially superstitious people, on clasping on the belt and feeling the
sharp prickles, would be capable of doing almost anything. This was a
most interesting discovery, and, at one fell swoop, it abolished half
the magic supposed to be contained in Sophana's Girdle.

To my uncle, however, perhaps the greatest interest was the head of each
snake. The eyes were precious stones, and the crown of the head was set
with a large stone, in all cases beautifully engraved. The four heads
which constituted the clasp were all similar, having small ruby eyes,
and on the crown a square of jade upon which was engraved the magic
figures, 1, 8, 1, 1 in hieroglyphics.

"Ah!" exclaimed my uncle, "the demon number. Our friend the doctor knows
something of it."

"It is as I thought," said Edwards excitedly. "So, Walter, you can no
longer scoff. I was right. The 3 and the 8 entered into all my
calculations, as you will remember, and there are the mystic numbers at
the beginning and at the end of the Golden Girdle. And was it a mere
coincidence that Shahzadi's shoe had at first 3 nail-holes on either
side, and then 8 nail-holes altogether?"

The heads of the two snakes coiled in the centre had amethysts for eyes,
and each was crowned with a square of lapis-lazuli, engraved with the
figure of Isis. The six other heads were set with different stones, the
eyes being of sapphire, topaz, emerald, garnet, crystal, and cornelian;
while the crown stones consisted of circular, oval, or heart-shaped
bloodstone, chalcedony, hæmatite, jasper, onyx, and agate. On each of
these large stones were engraved magical formulæ, and a figure; the
figures representing Osiris, Serapis, Horus, a human-headed lion, a
human-headed hawk, and a lion-headed serpent.

Considering the age of the Girdle, and the vicissitudes through which it
had passed, it was in a marvellous state of preservation. One or two of
the stones had gone from the snakes' eyes, two of the larger stones were
cracked, and here and there the bodies of the snakes were a trifle
dented. With these exceptions there was little amiss with it; and when
my uncle and I had cleaned it, it looked really beautiful.

For days we could talk of little else, and each day we had it brought
out from the safe, to examine some particular part. It was photographed
from every point of view; careful drawings were made of it; and
impressions of each of the stones were taken; but all such things were
returned to the safe, each time, to remain with the original, until we
should remove the Girdle and everything connected with it, on leaving
for England. My uncle refused to allow any description of it to be sent
home, as it was his desire that the Girdle itself, in all its glory,
should be allowed to burst on the astonished gaze of his _confrères_,
without any previous warning.




CHAPTER XXIX.

A PROPHECY FULFILLED.


It was not long before my uncle made known to me the real reason for his
journey to the East. The description that I had sent home of the Temple
of Sophana had, as he told me, caused the smouldering fire within him to
break into flame, and he decided that he was not too old to do something
in the world of discovery. The report of my death, however, was a great
shock to him, and extinguished the flame of his ambitions. Then, when he
heard of my success, he no longer hesitated, but persuaded my father to
accompany him, and set out at once. It was therefore, I found, not so
much the Golden Girdle that had impelled him to come to Baghdad, as his
craving to visit the ruins of Katib, and see with his own eyes what no
other European, except myself, had seen. That I should wish to go with
him was only natural; but it was not to be, as Edwards declared that I
was wholly unfit for such an undertaking.

In due course all arrangements were made; and, at my suggestion, Faris
was communicated with, and asked to conduct my father and uncle to the
ruins. But it was nearly a month before everything was settled. In the
end, Faris agreed to meet the party at the Birs Nimroud on a certain
day, and to bring with him a sufficient escort of Aeniza. There he was
to receive from my uncle the much coveted shoe of Shahzadi, and he
promised to be responsible for the safety of the relatives of his
"brother the magician" until he brought them back again to the Birs
Nimroud. In my opinion, no expedition ever started under more favourable
circumstances, and it was with many heart-burnings that, after seeing
the two adventurers and their zaptiehs a few miles on the road, I turned
back, and returned with Edwards to Baghdad.

"It is rather sickening," said I, "to be out of this. I must say I
should have liked to have had a look at the temple in cold blood."

"Be content," said Edwards, "with what you have already seen and done.
Your constitution has been pretty well undermined as it is, and if you
are not ever so careful, you will shatter it altogether."

"It will be a trifle dull," said I, "idling about this place until they
come back."

"They will not be very long, I fancy," said Edwards. "The professor
promised to waste no time, as he is most anxious to get home with the
Girdle. I am to go on six months' leave by the same boat, so we will
have merry times. In the meanwhile, I have got a job for you, and if you
undertake it, you will not be bored by idleness."

"What is it?" I asked. "Nothing very exciting, I expect."

"Perhaps not quite up to your standard of excitement," said my friend,
"but I told your father that I would do my level best to persuade you to
carry out his wishes. All you have to do is to take pen, ink, and paper,
and put together the story of your wanderings in search of the Golden
Girdle."

"How deadly uninteresting," said I, with a groan.

Yet, as the time went on, and I found myself unable to do much riding or
take other hard exercise, I began to jot down notes and headings on the
paper which Edwards, each day, thrust obtrusively before me; and, at
length, I came to the conclusion that such a treasure as the Golden
Girdle was indeed worthy of having its history put on record. So I set
to work with a will, full of misgivings of my ability to describe the
queer things that I had seen and heard in the desert; and, each morning,
sitting at my window, overlooking the mighty waters of the Tigris, I
added a few sheets to the fast-growing pile.

While thus engaged, I received the first news of the wanderers,
contained in a long letter from my father. It was written at Hillah, and
finished as the camp was being struck at the Birs Nimroud. Edwards and I
read it with intense interest, and both of us blushed when we came to
passages dealing with the good names which we had left behind us; for
many were the nice things that my father told me he had heard, not only
from the Aeniza, but also from the Turkish officials at Hillah. There he
had met the cheery old Commandant, who had recently returned from
reinstating Ali Khan at Adiba. In the eyes of Ali Khan and his people,
we were, the Commandant affirmed, the greatest heroes that Arabia had
yet known, and if ever we revisited Adiba, our welcome would be
magnificent. At the Birs Nimroud, Faris, Sedjur, two hundred horsemen,
and many camels were found waiting, and immediately on his arrival, my
uncle presented the sheik, in the presence of his men, with the shoe of
Shahzadi, the Aeniza displaying extraordinary enthusiasm on the
occasion. "We are just off," concluded my father, "and Sheik Faris is
capering around on little Kushki, with the prized shoe dangling from her
neck--the two of them as proud as peacocks."

[Illustration: "THE TWO OF THEM AS PROUD AS PEACOCKS"]

After this, we received no further news for some time. Then came the
first letter from the ruins, my uncle having arranged that his zaptiehs,
whom he had left at Hillah, should act as despatch riders, the Aeniza
carrying his letters from Katib to a small village on the Sea of Njef,
whence the zaptiehs rode on with them to Hillah and Baghdad. When this
first letter was written, the party had been only three days in camp
near the ruins, and the temple itself had not then been explored,
although my uncle had looked down into it from the gap in the roof. The
whole time had been occupied in a thorough examination of the outer
chamber, with its ramification of passages, of which my father had made
several elaborate plan-drawings. Faris and I had been right in thinking
that there was only the one chamber, and that the various passages
always led back to it, except, of course, the one by which we had
originally entered, by way of the steps. Apparently, this form of
building was not unknown to my uncle, who, however, had never actually
seen anything of the kind, and was delighted with what he had now
observed. With the drawings were numerous rubbings from glazed bricks,
paper mouldings from carvings, copies of inscriptions, and a few
photographic films, which I was to develop. All such things I had been
instructed to place in the great safe with the treasured Girdle, and
before long the collection began to swell to vast proportions.

Soon, the desert despatches came in regularly once a week, and each one
was more bulky than the last, until the safe would hold no more, and
cupboards had to be set apart to receive the accumulating mass of
papers. Knowing what I did of my uncle's life at the British Museum, I
trembled to think of what he was laying up for his old age. Neither did
I relish the idea that he would probably persuade me to assist him in
unravelling the threads of all his discoveries.

With considerable impatience I awaited the letter which should tell me
that the explorers had reached the temple of the queen-goddess, and,
when it came, I was relieved to learn that my uncle was in no way
disappointed. In fact, it was evident that he was in the seventh heaven
of joy, and had no intention of leaving the place until he had
overhauled every nook and corner. They had entered the temple, as Faris
and I had done, by the tunnelled way, and had found everything just as
we had left it. Our tower of escape still stood against the side wall;
Raspul's corpse, shrivelled and dried up, lay on the bench on which we
had placed it, and the image, or statue, of Sophana looked down serenely
on the débris scattered around her feet. No man had been near the place
since that awful night, for Faris said that the tribes had become aware
of the murder of the seer in his temple, and knowing that his corpse
still remained unburied, feared to visit the spot. Even his own Aeniza
refused to pitch their camp nearer than a mile from the ruins. The
rosary of the seer had been found, but beyond saying that the beads
composing it were highly interesting, my uncle did not enter into
details.

In thus describing the events of my last days in the City of the
Caliphs, I have found it impossible to refrain from mentioning the great
things that my father and uncle were doing, whilst I remained, an
unwilling prisoner, at the base of operations. These matters, however,
are so intimately connected with my quest of the Golden Girdle, that I
do not think that any apology for their introduction into my story is
needed. Still, I hesitate to forestall my uncle's own account of his
wonderful discoveries, which, I have little doubt, when made known to
the world, will be found to rival those of the early Babylonian
explorers; and with the exception of quoting from one more of his
letters, I shall throw no further light on his doings.

The letter in question arrived after I had been without news for a
fortnight, and just as I had made up my mind that something was amiss. I
had, indeed, gone so far as to suggest to Edwards that he and I should
start off for Hillah, and thence try to reach Katib. Many were the
papers which accompanied my uncle's letter, which, though written in
great haste, was of considerable length. It opened with instructions
about the new bundle of papers, and more particularly about the
negatives sent for development; then it disclosed information which
made my heart thump and my fingers twitch with nervous excitement. The
contents of his letter, said my uncle, were on no account whatever to be
revealed to anyone, except to Edwards, and to him only on the condition
that he swore to keep the secret. This is what he wrote:--

     "I could not send in news last week, as we were much too busy
     to think of anything beyond the work in hand. How sorry we are
     that you were not with us to share our triumph; for triumph it
     assuredly is! We have had, Walter, the most astounding stroke
     of luck. The temple itself and its extraordinary surroundings
     have given me the greatest joy, and had the beautiful statue of
     the goddess been the only thing that I could remove, I should
     have been more than satisfied. Yet we have found other things,
     and your father, whose greed is terrible, is in ecstasies over
     our undreamt-of success.

     "You will remember the small chamber, into which, as Sheik
     Faris tells me, the Seer retired to change his clothes. That
     was his private dwelling-room, and we found little of interest
     in it until, about ten days ago, on sounding the walls, I
     thought that one of them rang hollow. I examined it more
     carefully, and after a while I discovered a tiny metal knob,
     similar to the one on the wall door by which we had gained
     access to the temple. I held my finger on it, and the wall
     began to move. Then in my eagerness I pushed it with my
     shoulder, to find myself at the entrance to a large and dark
     dungeon. I have no time now to describe fully what that dungeon
     contained, and I cannot say whether it was the store-house of
     Raspul, or of many generations of priests. But whoever amassed
     the wealth that lay therein cannot have acquired it honestly in
     one lifetime, nor yet in twenty, and for what purpose it should
     have been kept there is incomprehensible. There were wooden
     boxes filled with gold mohurs, Turkish gold coins, English
     sovereigns, and even 'spade' guineas; the wood of the boxes in
     many instances crumbled away with age, and the coins trickling
     through. Of silver coins there were pagodas, kerans, rupees,
     and money from almost every country, piled in great heaps in
     the corners of the chamber. Not a little rare and antique
     jewellery also, and gems cut, uncut, and engraved; besides
     pearls representing the produce of Bahrein for a decade or
     more. I do not attempt to estimate the value of our find,
     though your father talks of six figures. The intrinsic value is
     to me nothing. I have as much of this world's goods as I wish
     for. Your father will, of course, take his share; my share will
     be divided equally between yourself and your friend the doctor;
     while the share which belongs by right to Sheik Faris, he
     refuses to take, and he desires me to say that he gives it all
     to his 'brother the magician,' to whom it will be of greater
     use than to himself.

     "Ever since we made this wondrous discovery, we have been
     engaged day and night in packing the treasure, only our three
     selves and Sedjur being in the secret. The Aeniza, who refused
     to enter the ruins, are aware that we intend to remove portions
     of the temple and other parts of the ruins, and so that they
     shall not suspect the nature of the loads which the camels will
     take away, we have sewn up the gold and other valuables in
     small pieces of camel cloth, binding fragments of stones around
     each package. The statue of the goddess we hope to bring away
     also; but it is doubtful if there are sufficient camels to
     carry all the silver. However, we can well spare some of it.

     "Sheik Faris has arranged that, in order to avoid all
     difficulties with the Turkish authorities, he will convey
     everything across the desert, to a certain small bay in the
     Gulf, not far from Kuwait, where, he tells me, we shall be able
     to hire large boats used for shipping smuggled horses, and so
     get the goods on board our steamer, without any trouble. He and
     a hundred and fifty horsemen start with the camels to-morrow
     night; and we, accompanied by Sedjur and fifty men, return at
     the same time towards Hillah, where we shall pick up the
     zaptiehs, and ere many days we shall be with you again in
     Baghdad.

     "We must leave Bussorah in the steamer which departs next
     Monday three weeks, so that we may be off the appointed place
     at the time at which Faris calculates to arrive there. He
     assures me that there can be no possibility of failure on his
     part; for he says that the man who carries Shahzadi's shoe can
     never fail!

     "I can write no more now, as there are still many things to be
     seen to. It would be well if you were to prepare to leave
     Baghdad shortly after our arrival. I have every confidence in
     the noble and generous Faris, whom I hold in the highest
     esteem. He is now seated in my tent, and bids me remind you of
     the prophecy of Raspul: _Wealth untold cometh to the man whose
     mare shall carry the iron with which Shahzadi was shod!_"

"And also," said Edwards, "to the man who recovered the Golden Girdle of
the Great Queen."








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