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Title: The Veiled Man

Author: William Le Queux

Illustrator: Alfred Pearse

Release date: September 22, 2012 [eBook #40832]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VEILED MAN ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Veiled Man
Being an Account of the Risks and Adventures of Sidi Ahamadou, Sheikh of
the Azjar Marauders of the Great Sahara
By William Le Queux
Illustrations by Alfred Pearce

The Veiled Man, by William Le Queux.

________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________
THE VEILED MAN, BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX.

PREFACE.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.

The remarkable adventures of the notorious robber-sheikh Ahamadou, "the
Abandoned of Allah," once the terror of the Areg Desert, but now
friendly to the French, were collected during a journey across the Great
Sahara.  In the belief that some description of the wild life of the
Desert, with its romance and mystery, told by one upon whose head a
price was set for twelve years, and who a dozen times narrowly escaped
capture, may interest those fond of adventure, I have translated,
edited, and presented these reminiscences in their present form.

CHAPTER ONE.

THE CITY OF THE SEVEN SHADOWS.

During half a century of constant wandering over the silent sunlit
sands, of tribal feuds, of revolts, battle and pillage, of bitter
persistent hatreds, of exploit, foray, and fierce resistance against the
lounging Spahis, cigarette-smoking Zouaves, black-faced Turcos, and
swaggering Chasseurs of the French, I have met with some curious
adventures, and have witnessed wonders more remarkable, perhaps, than
many of the romances related by the Arab story-tellers.  They mostly
occurred before I was chosen sheikh of the Azjar; when I was simply one
of a band of desert-pirates, whose only possessions were a long steel
lance, a keen, finely-tempered poignard, and a white stallion, the speed
of which was unequalled by those of my companions.  A thief I was by
birth; a scholar I had become by studying the _Tarik_, the _Miraz_, the
_Ibtihadj_, and the Koran, under the Marabut Essoyouti in Algiers; a
philosopher I fain would be.  When riding over the great limitless
red-brown sands, I was apt to forget the race whence I sprang, the
learning that had made me wise, the logical reasonings of a
well-schooled brain, and give myself up with all the rapture of an
intense enthusiasm to the emotion of the hour.  It was the same always.
Essoyouti, a scholar renowned throughout Tripoli and Tunis, had versed
me in legendary lore, until I had become full of glowing fancies and
unutterable longing to penetrate the entrancing mysteries to which he
had so often referred as problems that could never be solved.

I am a Veiled Man.  Openly, I confess myself a vagabond and a brigand.
Living here, in the heart of the Great Desert, six moons march from
Algiers, and a thousand miles beyond the French outposts, theft is, with
my nomadic tribe, their natural industry--a branch of education, in
fact.  We augment the meagreness of our herds by extorting ransoms from
some of our neighbours, and completely despoiling others.  Mention of
the name of Ahamadou causes the face of the traveller on any of the
caravan routes between the Atlas mountains and Lake Tsad to pale beneath
its bronze, for as sheikh of the most powerful piratical tribe in the
Sahara, I have earned an unenviable notoriety as leader of "The Breath
of the Wind," while the Arabs themselves have bestowed upon my people
three epithets which epitomise their psychology: "Thieves, Hyenas, and
Abandoned of Allah."

The only law recognised by my race, the Touaregs, is the right of the
strongest.  We wear the black _litham_ wrapped about our faces, leaving
only our noses and eyes visible, and never removing it, even at
meal-times.  It becomes so much a part of us that any one being deprived
of his veil is unrecognisable to friends or relatives.  If one of our
number is killed, and divested of his veil, no one can identify him
until it has been restored to its place.  We are therefore known and
dreaded as "The Veiled Men."

My first journey by paths untrodden resulted strangely.

For two whole moons a party of us, numbering nearly three hundred, all
well-armed and desperate, had been lurking in a narrow ravine in the far
South, known as the Gueden, close to the point where it is crossed by
the route taken by the caravans from Lake Tsad to El Aghouat in Algeria.
News travels fast in the desert.  We had received word that a caravan
laden with ivory and gold-dust was on its way from Kuka to Timissao, and
were awaiting it, with the intention either of levying toll, or
attacking it with a view to plunder.  In our sombre robes of dark blue
kano cloth and black veils, we were a mysterious, forbidding-looking
rabble.  As day succeeded day, and we remained inactive, with scouts
ever vigilant for the approach of our prey, I recollected that in the
vicinity were some curious rocks, with inscriptions recording the
Mussulman conquest, and one morning, mounting my _meheri_, or swift
camel, rode out to inspect them.

The sun rose, and beneath its furnace heat I pushed on into the great
waterless wilderness of Tasili, the true extent of which is unknown even
to us Children of the Desert, for the utter dearth of water there
renders a journey of many days impossible.  Until the _maghrib_ hour I
remained in the saddle, then dismounting, faced towards the Holy Ca'aba,
recited my _fatihat_, ate a handful of dates, and squatted to smoke and
watch the fading of the blood-red afterglow.  On the next day, and the
next, I journeyed forward over the wide monotonous plain, where the
poison-wind fanned my brow like a breath from an oven, and nothing met
the aching eye but glaring sand and far-off horizon, until, when my
shadow lengthened on the sixth day after parting with my companions, I
found myself within sight of a range of high hills, looming darkly
against the brilliant sunset.

Well acquainted as I was with the geography of my native sands, I had
never heard mention of these hills, and was therefore convinced that I
had mistaken the route to the great black rock whereon the inscriptions
were engraved, and was now approaching a region unexplored.  On many
occasions I had traversed the caravan route to Timissao, and crossed the
rocky ravine where my companions were now in ambush; but none of us had
ever before left that track, clearly defined by its bleaching bones, for
to the solitary traveller in that inhospitable region a pricked
water-skin or a lame camel means death.  With irrepressible awe I gazed
upon the hills, clothed in the deep purple light of the descending sun,
because of one strange thing my eyes had detected.  I saw, above the
serrated line, two cone-like peaks, rising close to one another, in
majesty solemn and sublime, and recognised in them a scene exactly as
described by my master Essoyouti, in one of the curious romances he was
fond of relating.  I stood recalling every detail of the scene, just as
I had imagined it when, seated under the vine, in the cool patio of his
house, in the ancient Kasbah at Algiers, he had told me a story that
held me breathless and entranced.

Worn with fatigue, exhausted and feverish from long exposure to the
fiery sun, half stifled by the sand-laden wind, and riding a camel
scarcely less jaded than myself, I confess that, despite my love of
adventure, and by reason of the strangeness of the story I had heard, I
contemplated with no little dread the prospect of passing that night
alone within sight of those twin mountain-crests.  Twilight is brief in
the desert, and soon the moon, having risen from behind a bank of cloud,
afforded an uncertain light, which partly illuminated the prospect, and
I sat hugging my knees and thinking deeply until sleep closed my eyes.

Before the appearance of the first saffron streak that heralds the sun's
coming, I had recited a _sura_ and mounted, with my face set resolutely
towards the unknown range.  In the skin across my saddle I had only just
sufficient water to enable me to return to our ambush, therefore I broke
not my fast, determined to hoard up my frugal store.  The sand was soft
and treacherous.  At every step my camel's spongy feet sank deeper and
deeper, until, after a toilsome ride of three hours, we arrived near the
foot of the two dark, ominous-looking mountains.  Then I pulled up,
fearing to proceed further lest we should be overwhelmed by the
quicksands.

Near me was a narrow pass between the two mountains, and shading my eyes
with my hand, I was startled at beholding two gigantic figures standing
on either side of the entrance.  The sight of them confirmed my
suspicion that I had approached the Unknown, and with curiosity aroused,
I urged my _meheri_ still forward, coming at last close up to the
colossal figures.  They were fashioned from enormous blocks of dark grey
stone, ten times the height of a human being.  One, carved to represent
a beautiful woman, had her right hand lifted towards the sky, while the
other, a forbidding-looking hag, with chipped, time-worn face still
wearing a repulsive expression, pointed downward.  Between these
colossal figures was a space of about thirty paces.  According to the
legend related by the sage Essoyouti, and told by our story-tellers
through ages, there existed beyond a land forbidden.

I held my breath.  I was about to view a country that had not been
viewed; the ravine known in story as the Valley of the Ants.  In
eagerness I pressed onward, leading my camel, and passing up the stony
valley until at length I came to a second and more fertile space of vast
extent, covered entirely by the colossal ruins of a forgotten city.

Aghast, I stood gazing upon the remarkable and unexpected scene.

Ruined temples, with long rows of broken columns, and great houses
cracked and fallen into decay, stood silent and deserted, grim, grey
relics of a glorious past.  Here and there obelisks and colossi still
stood, and the broad streets of the giant city were everywhere
well-defined by the ruins, half-buried by drifting sand on either side.
Above, a single eagle soared high in the heavens, the only sign of life
in that once populous and magnificent centre of a lost civilisation.

Having tethered my camel, I started forward through the ocean of soft
sand that through centuries had drifted over the place, and as I did so
the story of old Essoyouti recurred to me.  The appearance of the place
agreed with the strange legend in almost every detail.  The ruler of
this gigantic capital had been Balkis, the wealthy and luxurious queen
mentioned in our Book of Everlasting Will.  This was actually the city
of Saba, once the wealthiest and most magnificent capital in the world.
According to the legend of the sages, this place existed somewhere in
the Great Desert, but whereabouts no man had been able to determine,
although it was believed that its entrance was between two cone-like
mountains, but surrounded by quicksands of so treacherous a nature that
none dare approach it.

With hurried footsteps I scrambled on over fallen columns and great
blocks of hewn stone, with inscriptions in characters unknown to me,
until suddenly my eyes were bewildered at beholding on the mountain-side
an enormous palace, with beautiful terraces and pavilions, apparently in
an excellent state of preservation.  From the city it was approached by
a long flight of wide stone steps, flanked on either side by a pair of
colossal figures of similar design to those at the entrance of the
Valley of the Ants.

At first, I doubted that the scene before me was one of actual reality,
but having reassured myself that I was not dreaming, and was entirely in
possession of my senses, I gripped my long lance firmly, and started to
ascend the thousand steps that gave access to the historic palace of
Balkis.  Hardly, however, had I placed my foot upon the first step, when
my eyes were blinded by a lightning-flash, and my ears deafened by a
crash of thunder, that, shaking the earth, resounded among the hills,
until it became lost in innumerable echoes.

I halted in suspicion, puzzled to account for the strange phenomenon,
which seemed like some ominous warning.

Nothing daunted, however, I sprang up the steps, two by two, halting but
once to regain breath, and in a few minutes entered the great,
marvellously-sculptured portals of the magnificent dwelling-place of one
of the most powerful and beautiful women the world ever knew.  About to
enter, my footsteps were suddenly arrested by the discovery that the
floor of the palace was of running water, wherein fish disported
themselves, and in the centre, raised upon a dais of ivory and gold, was
the great empty throne of Balkis, constructed entirely of chalcedony,
amethysts, and rubies.

The extent of my discoveries entranced me.  I twisted up my robe, and
prepared to wade through the water, when, on setting foot into it, I
discovered to my amazement that the floor was of transparent glass, laid
over the running water, thus keeping the palace uniformly cool during
the hottest hours.  On approaching the throne I at once became aware of
its enormous value, and with my poignard prised from its setting one of
the largest rubies my eyes had ever beheld.  It was the size of a
pigeon's egg, and of matchless colour.

Through the wonderful courts of the deserted palace I wandered, amazed
at every turn.  Of gigantic proportions, with strange grotesque
embellishments that clearly showed its ancient origin, it had stood here
in the zenith of its magnificence ages before the days of the Prophet,
and for many centuries had remained hidden from the sight of man within
that unknown valley.  From the flat roof of one of its pavilions I stood
gazing down upon the once mighty city, trying to reconstruct it in my
imagination, and endeavouring to form an idea of its aspect in the
long-past days, when the hosts of Balkis went forth to battle, and when
the beautiful queen herself flashed forth in her golden chariot, amid
the wild plaudits of the multitude.

Many hours I spent in exploring this wonderful relic of a decayed
civilisation, visiting pavilion after pavilion and finding most of them
knee-deep in the accumulated dust of ages, until at last I came to a
small chamber built right against the side of the mountain.  This I
entered, finding traces of the most extravagant luxury within.  The
decorations were richly ornamented with gold even now untarnished, the
beams supporting the roof being set with gems which sparkled where a ray
of sunlight fell upon them.  Beyond was a door which, on examination,
proved to be of solid iron.  On dragging it open there was disclosed a
small, dark, and cavernous burrow into the mountain-side.  Minutely I
examined this door, and finding thereon great bolts with sockets sunk
deeply into the solid rock, it occurred to me that in this place might
be hidden some of the treasure that the Koran tells us was possessed by
the great Queen Balkis.  Cupidity prompted me to search, and having
constructed a large improvised torch, I propped open the door with a
huge stone sculptured to represent a lion's paw, and started forward up
the narrow gloomy tunnel.  The natural sides of the cavern were rough,
gleaming with long pendant stalactites; but soon it grew larger, and the
air became so warm that the perspiration fell from my brow in big drops.
One or two articles, old cross-hilted swords, a rusty, dinted helmet
and a battered breastplate, showed that this place had long ago been
frequented, therefore I pressed forward eagerly, hoping to discover that
which would render me wealthy.  The increasing heat within the cavern
surprised me; nevertheless I went forward, my torch held high above my
head, my eyes eagerly strained into the impenetrable gloom, and my feet
stumbling ever and anon over the uneven ground, until suddenly a harsh
grinding noise fell upon my ears, and next second a crushing blow fell
full upon my skull, felling me like a log and rendering me unconscious.

How long I remained in that dark stifling tunnel I have no idea.

When, slowly and painfully, I opened my eyes I found that my veil had
been removed, my brow deftly bandaged, and my fevered head was resting
upon a woman's cool hand.  A soft feminine voice gave me "Peace," and
turning I saw by the light of a burning brazier that my companion was a
girl of wondrous beauty.  Her face was of the pure Arab type, her
complexion white as those of the Englishwomen who come to Biskra at
Ramadan; her little skull-cap was thickly embroidered with seed-pearls,
and her bracelets and anklets, set with beautiful diamonds, gleamed with
a thousand iridescent fires at each movement.  At first I fancied myself
dreaming, but when at length I entirely recovered consciousness, I
recognised that we were together in a small apartment hung with heavy
hangings of thick dark crimson stuffs.  The golden perfuming-pan
diffused an intoxicating odour of attar of roses, and the silken couch
whereon I reclined was soft, restful, and spacious.

Turning to my companion who, instantly divining my longing, handed me
water in a crystal goblet, I enquired where I was.

"Thou art with a friend," she answered.  "Thou hast dared to enter the
City of the Seven Shadows bent on plunder, and the wrath hath fallen
upon thee."

"Didst thou discover me?"  I asked, raising myself upon my elbow, and
looking at her.

She nodded, and with bent head sat with her luminous dark eyes fixed
upon the ground.

"Thou hast entered this, the city upon which the seven lights of the
heavens have cast the shadows of their wrath, and where all who enter
are accursed," she exclaimed at last, speaking slowly and impressively.
"Thou earnest hither with evil intent, to secure the treasure of Balkis.
Yet out of evil cometh good, for in thee I have found a companion in
adversity."

"In adversity!"  I echoed.  "What art thou?"

"I am Balkis, sole lineal descendant of the great queen who ruled over
Saba, and guardian of her treasure," she answered.  "I am a queen
without court; a ruler without people.  The palace that thou hast
inspected is mine; the throne from the arm of which thou hast filched
the great ruby is my lonely seat of royalty; for I am queen of a dead
city.  Although I am bearer of the historic name of Balkis, and possess
treasure of greater worth than men have ever dreamed, my subjects number
only fourteen persons, all of whom are my relatives and live here with
me in this my palace.  As thou hast already seen, our once-powerful city
with its fifty brazen gates hath fallen into decay because of the curse
placed upon it by Allah.  The teeming populace that once crowded its
thoroughfares and market-places have dwindled down until mine own family
only are left, the last of a long illustrious, world-famed line.  Soon,
alas!  I, too, shall pass into the grave, and the royal house of Balkis
will become extinct," and her jewel-laden breast rose and fell slowly in
a long deep-drawn sigh.

"Why speakest thou in tone so melancholy?"  I asked.  "Thou hast youth,
health, long life, everything before thee!"

"No," she answered gravely, with her white pointed chin still resting
thoughtfully upon her palm.  "Already I am threatened; nay, I am
doomed."

"How?"  I enquired, incredulously.

"Listen, and I will explain," she said, slowly, raising her beautiful
eyes to mine.  "About two moons ago, attired in the _haick_ of an Arab
woman, I journeyed with my aged uncle to In Salah, in order to make
purchases in the market, as is our custom twice each year.  On our
return hither we came across an encampment of those red-legged dogs of
French, and having accepted the hospitality of their tents through
several days on account of the sand-storms, I was surprised and annoyed
by receiving a declaration of love from the young lieutenant in charge,
whose name was Victor Gaillard, and whose home, he told me, was in
Paris.  Believing me to be daughter of an Arab merchant, he announced
his readiness to take me to Algiers and make me his wife; but hating
these youthful irresponsible masters of our land, I declined that
honour.  He then declared that at all costs I should be his, for at the
end of the year he was going north to the seashore, where he would be
quartered until the spring, and that if I escaped him he and his host
who ruled the Desert would treat me and my people as rebellious, and
shoot us down like dogs.  I laughed his declaration to scorn, for he
little dreamed of my real name, birth, and dwelling-place.  Next day I
remained in the encampment, but on the following night, by bribing one
of the Spahi sentries with a ring from my finger, I and my uncle managed
to escape, and, beneath the crescent moon, pushed our way forward in the
direction of Saba.  Through four days we travelled almost incessantly,
until at midnight on the fifth our camels' feet sank deep into the
quicksands that render the entrance to Saba unapproachable.  Laughing as
I congratulated myself on my cleverness at outwitting him, I had gone
some hundred paces when, chancing to glance back, I saw not far away,
hesitating at the edge of the treacherous belt of ground, a single
horseman.  The glint of moonlight on his bright scabbard showed him to
be an officer of the Roumis, and instantly I recognised the slim
silhouette of Victor Gaillard.  He sat motionless in his saddle, and
with his field-glass raised calmly watched our difficult progress
towards the two colossal statues which have guarded the entrance to our
city from the day of King Solomon.  My uncle, noticing my alarm, also
turned and detected our pursuer.  That night, before my family assembled
in the palace, I explained the whole of the facts, and they, knowing how
relentless are these harsh infidel rulers of ours, unanimously decided
upon flight.  But I declined to leave.  Was I not Balkis, Queen of Saba?
Was not the great store of gold and jewels given into my keeping that I
should remain and watch them until I drew my last breath?  They urged me
to accompany them into the mountains, but finding me obdurate all fled,
leaving me alone to face the unscrupulous man who had declared that at
all costs I should become his wife.  Ten weary anxious days have since
gone by.  Yesterday thou earnest hither, thy face wrapped in thy black
_litham_, and naturally I supposed thou wert the accursed infidel in
disguise.  I watched thee explore my palace and enter to the cave
wherein my treasure lieth concealed.  When thou hadst entered I breathed
more freely, full well knowing that thou hadst gone forward into thy
grave."

"How?  Is the tunnel azotic?"

"No.  Within is an ingenious mechanical contrivance which was
constructed by Balkis herself, whereby the unsuspecting intruder
releases a spring, and is struck down by a great iron mace."

"I was struck," I observed.

She nodded, smiling sadly.

"When I went forward to ascertain whether mine enemy still lived I found
thy veil unloosened, and that thy features were not those of the hateful
Frank.  Then I tended thee throughout the night, and at dawn thou didst
rally and art now rapidly recovering."

"Of a verity I had a narrow escape."

"Assuredly thou didst.  Many others, as adventurous and stout-hearted as
thyself, have met their fate at that spot."

"So thou hast remained here alone and single-handed to guard the
treasure of thine ancestor against the pilfering of the Franks?"  I
said, regarding the beautiful, frail-looking girl with admiration.
"Assuredly thou art as courageous as the great Balkis who defied the
combined powers of the ancient world."

She sighed.  "It hath been the duty of the Queens of Saba to remain
within their kingdom even if evil threatened and all forsake them.  I
will never be wife of a Frank, neither will I exhibit fear to these new
rulers of the Desert who are led by amorous youths from Paris
boulevards," she answered, drawing herself up with queenly hauteur.

"Peradventure he only useth idle threats," I observed.

"No.  The Franks who conquered Algeria and hold it beneath the thraldom
of the religion they call Christianity, are our rulers also.  He ordered
me to remain in the encampment on pain of being outlawed.  I disobeyed;
therefore I and my people are rebels.  That he will return and seek me
out I am convinced."

"Then why not fly?"  I suggested.  "I will take thee to where my tribe,
are encamped.  Although we are thieves and brigands, thou, a woman, wilt
nevertheless meet with chivalrous treatment at our hands."

She shook her head, and with dogged persistence announced her intention
of remaining, while, on my part, I promised to render her whatever
assistance lay in my power.

"Then first help me to remove the throne into the treasure-house," she
said, and opening a door that had been concealed behind the heavy
hangings she led me into the great hall where water flowed beneath its
pavement of glass.

Together we dragged the bejewelled seat of royalty through several
courts, until we came to the small pavilion which gave entrance to the
cavern.  Then, while she carried a flaming flambeau, I toiled on with it
after her.  When we had gone some distance into the heart of the
mountain she stooped to secure the ancient mechanism so that the iron
mace could not again descend, and advancing some further distance we
found ourselves in a kind of _cul-de-sac_, with only a black wall of
rock before us.  To the right, however, was a cunningly-concealed door
which gave entrance to a spacious natural chamber, wherein I saw, heaped
indiscriminately, the most wondrous collection of golden ornaments and
brilliant jewels my eyes had ever gazed upon.  Some of them I took up,
holding them in my hand in wonderment.  The gems were of the first
water, the spoils taken in battle by the notorious queen once feared by
all the world, while heaped everywhere were bejewelled breast-plates,
gem-encrusted goblets, golden dishes, and swords with hilts and
scabbards thickly set with precious stones.  Wheresoever I trod there
were scattered in the fine white dust strings of pearls, uncut gems,
rings, and ear-ornaments, while all around were piled great immovable
boxes of hewn stone, like coffins, securely clamped with rusting iron.
These had never been opened, and contained, according to the story of my
companion, the tribute of enormous worth sent by King Solomon to Balkis.
These I examined carefully, one after another, at length discovering
one, the stone of which had split so that a small aperture was formed.
I placed my hand inside and withdrew it, holding between my thumb and
finger three cut diamonds, the like of which I had never before beheld.
The stone box was filled to the brim with gems of every kind.

In wonderment I was standing, contemplating this vast wealth of a
vanished nation, when my fair conductress exclaimed--

"There is still one other marvel about this place.  Listen!  Canst thou
hear a sound?"

Distinctly I heard a dull, monotonous boom, which had continued
uninterruptedly ever since we had been there.

"Yea.  What is its cause?"  I asked.

"The interior of this mountain is as a fiery furnace.  That roaring is
the unquenchable flame that has burned therein through ages.  During
mine own remembrance as a child smoke hath issued from the cone above,
and so near are we to the fiery interior here in this treasure-house
that its very walls are warm."

Upon the rock I placed my hand, and so hot was it that I was compelled
to withdraw it instantly.  Only a thin partition of stone apparently
divided us from the mysterious fathomless crater.

"One of the beliefs that have come down unto me through ages," Balkis
said, "is that within this place is Al-Hawiyat, the dwelling prepared
for infidels and pagans, where their food shall be offal, and they shall
slake their thirst with boiling pitch."

"Allah is mighty and wise," I answered.  "Alone he knoweth the hearts of
his servants.  May perfect peace remain ever upon thee."

"And upon thee, O Ahamadou," she responded, raising her bright eyes
earnestly to mine.  "Now that I have shown thee this, the wealth of my
ancestors, thou wilt promise never to conspire to gain possession of it
while any of my family remain here in Saba."

"Although of a tribe of thieves, I swear by Allah's might that never
will I expose thy secret, nor will I seek to possess myself of what is
thine," I answered.  "Thy family shall ever be as mine, for I am no
abuser of the salt."

"In thee do I place my trust," she answered, allowing her soft hand, the
hand that had so deftly bandaged my injured brow and bathed my face--to
linger for an instant within my grasp.

Then, drawing from my pouch the great lustrous ruby I had stolen, I
handed it back to her.  But she made me retain it as _souvenir_ of my
visit to Saba, the city forgotten.

The atmosphere in the treasure-house was stifling.  Having, therefore,
deposited the throne of Balkis in fitting place, we left, returning
through the concealed door to the narrow burrow which had exit in the
small pavilion.  Side by side we slowly crossed court after court of the
great palace which had witnessed pageants of such magnificence that
their splendour has been proverbial till this day, she pointing out the
principal objects of interest, halting to explain curious sculptured
wall-pictures and inscriptions commemorating the triumphs of the great
queen, or pausing to recall some long-forgotten story of love, hatred,
or malice connected with the spot whereon we stood.  In that mellow
sunset-hour, as we lingered together beneath the cool shadows, I learnt
more of the historic, time-effaced empire of Balkis than savants have
ever known.  As scholar, it delighted me to hear it from the lips of one
who had descended in the direct royal line from that famous woman, who,
according to our Sura, entitled "The Ant," became convinced during her
visit to Solomon that, by worshipping the sun she had dealt unjustly
with her own soul, and resigned herself unto Allah, the lord of all
creatures.

She had given me some wine and dates, and we had passed through the
great hall with its transparent pavement and out upon the terrace before
the palace when, of a sudden, a loud cry escaped her.

"See!" she gasped, dismayed.  "See!  The Franks are here!"

Next second a hulking Zouave who had secreted himself behind one of the
great sculptured columns sprang upon her.  She uttered a loud scream;
but, ere he could secure her hands, I had drawn my poignard and dealt
him an unerring blow, causing him to reel and fall back heavily upon the
stones.

A dozen soldiers, headed by Victor Gaillard, their evil-faced,
narrow-browed, moustached officer in his gold-laced uniform and
cherry-coloured trousers, had nearly gained the top of the steps.  But
the ugly sight of blood had already unnerved my fair companion, who,
turning quickly to me, cried--

"Let us fly!  Follow me.  There is but one way to escape."

She rushed away, and I followed, our pursuers close at our heels.  I no
longer wore my black _litham_, therefore the elegant youth from Paris,
sent by the French to rule the Dwellers of the Desert, could not have
been aware that I was a Touareg, one of the bandits of the Azjar, whom
he amused himself by hunting when inclined for sport.  Onward we sped,
crossing court after court, until we again entered the subterranean
burrow, and groping along it in the darkness, my companion found at last
another secret door, which she opened, pushed me into it, and entering
herself, closed it.  Then we listened.  There was no sound.  Apparently
our pursuers had not dared to follow us there.

"This," she explained beneath her breath, "leadeth by a secret way out
upon the mountain-side.  We may yet escape."

Upward we toiled in a tunnel so narrow that ofttimes we were compelled
to crawl upon hands and knees, yet ever ascending, and feeling our way,
we at last, after half an hour's frantic effort, saw a faint glimmer of
light above, and succeeded in emerging upon the bare rocky side of the
giant mountain.

"Let us mount still higher and pass along to the other side," she urged.
"I know the path."

Together we started off in the fast falling gloom, when suddenly I heard
an exclamation in French, and, looking down, saw Gaillard, with three of
his Zouaves below us, scrambling up as quickly as they were able.

Instantly I saw that their further progress was barred by a sheer cliff
of rock quite fifty feet in height, and that we were in a position
impregnable.  Balkis, noticing our situation, also turned towards him
with a low scornful laugh.

Next instant the fierce uncurbed anger of this young _boulevardier_
found vent, for, with a loud imprecation in French he declared that she
should never escape him, and ere I could divine his intention he had
snatched a rifle from the man standing at his side and covered the woman
he had desired to marry.

I sprang quickly towards my fellow-fugitive; but ere I could drag her
down to earth, our only cover, there was a flash, a loud report, and
Balkis, with a shrill shriek, stumbled forward mortally wounded, and
rolling helplessly down the mountain-side, fell dead almost at the very
feet of her brutal murderer.

The gold-braided officer laughed.

It was one of the most heartless assassinations I had ever witnessed,
but knowing that efforts would undoubtedly be made to shoot me also, I
threw myself upon my stomach and crawled upward quickly with hands and
toes.

"See, men; I have brought down the dainty little bird!"  I heard
Gaillard exclaim, as he walked to where the body was lying crumpled in a
heap.  "Give me her necklaces and bracelets.  The rest of her jewels you
may divide.  She was merely a rebel.  It is our duty to repress revolt,
even though we may sometimes be compelled to shoot women."

The Zouaves ruthlessly tore the jewels from the body of the last
remaining daughter of the Queen of Saba, while their lieutenant amused
himself by firing at me.  A dozen shots he sent after me, but all the
bullets sang over my head, until at last, when the darkness became
complete, I halted, breathless, behind a projection of rock, and there
waited, watching from my elevated position the camp fires lighted, and
the soldiers exploring the deserted ruins by the aid of flambeaux.

Once during the night I thought I heard a noise like thunder, and
distinctly felt the mountain tremble.  But soon after dawn I had the
satisfaction of seeing our enemies strike their camp and march slowly
out towards the plain.  The few jewels they found about the palace they
had divided among themselves, and were apparently in high glee.

Having remained in hiding three hours after their departure I descended,
passing the body of the hapless Balkis, already surrounded by a
screaming crowd of grey vultures, and, re-entering the palace to
ascertain the extent of the depredations of the Franks, I was amazed to
discover a dense black smoke issuing from the pavilion before the mouth
of the cave.  I tried to advance, but sulphurous fumes almost overcame
me.  Instantly I discerned the truth.  The thin partition of rock which
divided the treasure-house from the burning crater within had been
broken through, and the suppressed fire of the volcano was issuing in
great volume from the burrow, together with quantities of molten lava
and ashes which have since entirely overwhelmed the ruins.

Three years afterwards I had occasion to travel to Algiers to see
Gaillard, then raised to a responsible position in the Bureau Arabe,
regarding a Zouave whom we had captured and afterwards set free.  I
casually mentioned the buried ruins of the forgotten City of the Seven
Shadows at the spot he knew so well, but he merely replied--

"Ah! yes, I know.  I once explored them and found a curious cave there
in the side of the mountain.  I blew it up with dynamite in order that
it should not be used as a hiding-place by any of your veiled tribe.
The explosion, however, much to our dismay, opened a suppressed volcano,
with the result that fire issued forth, killing all six of our men who
performed the work."

Victor Gaillard, although now a Colonel, and back in his beloved Paris,
where he sits in the Chamber of Deputies as representative of a
constituency in the Alpes Maritimes, does not know that by the
irresponsible use of his explosive he lost for ever the greatest
collection of gold and jewels that has ever been brought together.

The only single gem of the vast treasure of Balkis that has been
preserved is the magnificent blood-red ruby which at this moment adorns
my sword-hilt.  In both colour and size it is matchless.  Never can I
handle that weapon without reflecting upon its tragic story, or without
visions rising to my eyes of the beautiful queen who reigned so briefly
over her vanished and forgotten kingdom.

CHAPTER TWO.

A SAPPHO OF THE SAND.

Throughout our breathless land of sun and silence there is a well-known
adage that the word of a Veiled Man is like water poured upon sand
which, when once dropped, is never to be recovered.  I am, alas,
compelled to admit that there is much truth in this; nevertheless, to
every rule there is an exception, and in every tribe of the Touaregs,
from those of the Tidikelt to those of the Adrar, are to be found men
who are not thieves or evil-doers, even though they may be marauders.

Those acquainted with the progress of recent events in Algeria will
remember that when our brothers, the Kabyles, rose against our now
masters, the French, and committed the terrible massacres at Al-Setit,
news was promptly circulated over every one of the vast Saharan plains
that the forces of Al-Islam had, at last, risen against the infidels.
Eager for the fray, most of the desert tribes, among them the Touaregs
of the Benin Sissin, Haratin, and Kel-Owi, or "People of the Light,"
united against the Roumis.  Hence, we of the Azjar pressed northward in
force in order to unite with the warlike Beni-Mzab in a formidable
attack upon the French posts at Gardaia and Wargla, south of the great
Atlas range.  Assembling at the El Gettara oasis we left our women, old
men, and children encamped, crossed the high sunbaked lands of the
Tademayt, then, passing up the rocky waterless valley of the Miya,
traversed the region of bare red sand-hills known as the Erg, and
leaving Wargla fifty miles to the east, set our camels' heads towards
Metlili, halting one day's march off that town.

In ordinary circumstances we should never have dared to approach so near
the sphere of French influence, especially as this was the region of the
Beni-Mzabs, who zealously guarded any encroachment upon their territory.
But war had been declared against the infidel, and the Shorfa
(Faithful) were uniting beneath the green banner of Al-Islam.  At high
noon we halted, and soon afterwards there appeared a French Colonel with
a large escort of his scarlet-burnoused Spahis.  The officer, who had
ridden from Metlili to intercept us, was received courteously by Tamahu,
our Sheikh.  He demanded the payment of taxes, but the proud old man
whom I have since succeeded answered, "Tell that lord of yours, that if
he wants our taxes he can come for them himself, and we will make sure
he gets them, in silver coins too, for we will roll each franc into a
bullet, and deliver it to him ourselves."  The Colonel declared that the
taxes must be paid, but our Sheikh courteously requested the infidel and
his horsemen to return to the town.

"Then you intend fighting?" the Colonel asked, at last.

"We do," answered Tamahu.  "Tell thy lord that The Breath of the Wind
decline to make submission to the French."

"You intend attacking Metlili?" the officer enquired, thoughtfully,
twirling his pointed moustache.

Our Sheikh nodded, his keen eyes watching the face of the infidel.  The
latter's countenance grew grave, whereat we, standing around leaning on
our spears, laughed in derision.

"Thou art of the great army of the infidels," Tamahu said.  "Yet thy
face palest when we speak of conflict!"

The officer started, and knit his grey brows.

"I fear not thine host of Veiled Men, fierce and relentless though ye
be.  True, I am a soldier, but one thing alone I dread."

"Thou fearest to lose thy life," observed our Sheikh, knowing that the
garrison at that little desert town was but small and weak.

"For myself I care nothing," the Colonel answered.  "It is the fate of
my daughter that I fear."

"Thy daughter!  Why is she here, in the desert, so far from Algiers?"

"Not having seen me for four years she travelled from Paris a moon ago
to visit me.  Both my captain and my lieutenant have died of fever, and
we two are now the only Europeans in Metlili.  The rising of thy
tribesmen hath occurred so unexpectedly, or I would have sent her under
escort back to the coast."

"Is thy daughter a child?" asked Tamahu.

"She is nineteen," answered the officer, whose name he informed us was
Colonel Bonnemain.  We at once knew him by repute as a distinguished
traveller and soldier.

"Thou knowest what is said of the word of a Touareg," the Sheikh said,
regarding him keenly.

The Colonel nodded.

"Canst thou trust these my tribesmen with the escort of thy daughter?"
Tamahu asked.  "If thou wilt, no harm shall befall her.  We have agreed
with the Mzabs to attack and pillage thy town, because thou, with thine
horsemen, hast established a post therein; therefore it must be done.
But the Azjars wage not war upon women, and ere we commence the attack
thy daughter shall find safe asylum within our camp."

For a moment the Colonel hesitated, looking intently into the dark,
bright eyes of our aged headman.  But seeing honesty and truth mirrored
in his face the infidel held out his hand, and in silence more eloquent
than words gripped that of his enemy.  At last his tongue's strings
became loosened.

"Henceforth, although I am an officer of the French, and compelled to
fight against thee, I am nevertheless thy friend, and some day will
prove my friendship.  Gabrielle shall be within thy camp at dawn."

"The Azjars will give her the welcome of friends," answered our Sheikh.

With a brief expression of heartfelt thanks Colonel Bonnemain vaulted
lightly into his saddle, and wishing us "Peace," spurred away to where
his troop of expectant Spahis awaited him.

"May Allah guard thee and thine!" answered Tamahu in response to the
infidel's salutation, and a moment later our enemies were riding hard
away towards the far-off horizon.

The long breathless afternoon went slowly by.  We had not encamped,
because we knew not when our allies, the Beni-Mzabs, might approach, and
rapidity of movement was of urgent necessity, inasmuch as a formidable
French column was on the march.  Spent by long travel, the majority of
us stretched ourselves on the hot sands and slept, leaving half-a-dozen
to act as sentinels and prevent surprise; but at the _maghrib_ hour all
were awakened by the clear voice of our aged marabout reciting the
_fatihat_.  Every man, without exception, knelt upon the sand, his back
turned upon the blaze of crimson in the west, and recited the _suras_,
praying to Allah to prosper our expedition.

When we arose, Tamahu, his right hand raised to heaven, and his left
grasping his gleaming spear, exhorted us to remain faithful, and to bear
arms bravely against the infidels.

"Ye are called forth against a mighty and a warlike nation," he
exclaimed.  "Ye shall fight against them, or they shall profess Islam.
If ye obey, Allah will, of a verity, give you a glorious reward; but if
ye turn back he will chastise you with a grievous chastisement.  Allah
has promised you many spoils, which ye should take; and he giveth these
by way of earnest; and he restraineth the hand of man from you; and the
same may be a sign unto the true believers; and he guideth you in the
right way.  Allah knoweth that which ye know not; and he hath appointed
you, besides this, a speedy victory."

Long and earnestly the old Sheikh addressed us, quoting from our Book of
Everlasting Will to emphasise his declarations.  Then he referred to the
compact he had that day made with the leader of our enemies.

"A woman of the Franks we shall receive into this our camp.  Remember, O
my people, that she will partake of our salt, and that while this war
continueth she is our friend.  Let not a single hair of her head be
injured.  The word of thy Sheikh Tamahu hath already been given."

That evening we spent in sharpening our spears and shangermangors,
preparatory to the fight, singing snatches of war-songs and discussing
the prospects of the attack.  Perhaps of all the tribes in the trackless
solitudes which constitute our home, we of the Azjar are among the most
active, vigorous, and enterprising, inured as we are to hardships, and
with our mental faculties sharpened almost to a preternatural degree by
the hard struggle for existence in our arid rocky fastnesses.  The
rearing of oxen, horses, and goats is our chief occupation, but the
scarcity of water and our speedy exhaustion of the scanty pasturage of
the oases keep us perpetually on the march.  Agriculture is scarcely
possible under a sky from which rain does not fall for six or eight
consecutive years; therefore it is, perhaps, not surprising that we have
developed into desert-pirates.

Those who have never set foot upon the Saharan plains can possess but a
vague idea of their appearance.  In the whole of the Great Desert, a
track comprising over two million square miles, there is not a single
carriage-road, not a mile of navigable waters, not a wheeled vehicle,
canoe, or boat of any kind.  There are scarcely even any beaten tracks,
for most of the routes, though followed for ages without divergence of
any kind, are temporarily effaced by every sandstorm, and recovered only
by means of the permanent landmarks--wells, prominent dunes, a solitary
eminence crowned with a solitary bush, the remains of travellers,
slaves, or camels that may have perished of thirst or exhaustion between
the stations.

Long and patiently we waited for the arrival of the woman to whom we had
promised protection; but although the night passed, the dawn rose, and
the hours crept on towards the noon, our vigilance remained unrewarded.
A second day passed in inactivity, then, wearied of waiting, we struck
camp and moved forward.

The afterglow had deepened into evening dusk when at length we came
within sight of Metlili.  Looming high up on a pinnacle of rock, white
against the clear sky, its appearance astonished us, for it looked
impregnable.  Its flat-roofed houses rose tier upon tier around an
exceedingly steep eminence crowned by a great mosque with high square
minaret, while at the foot of the hill were some scattered date-groves.

We had passed over the summit of a sand ridge, and were making a dash
straight upon the French stronghold, when we noticed that our presence
had already been detected.  Upon the walls a few Spahis in scarlet and
some white-burnoused Arabs were moving hurriedly.  Suddenly there was a
flash from the Kasbah, followed by a report, loud, sharp, echoless.  Our
enemies had opened fire upon us.

Tamahu instantly gave the word to spur forward on the wings of haste.
With one accord we rode in a huge compact body so swiftly as to justify
our popular appellation "The Breath of the Wind," and, regardless of a
rapid rifle-fire that was poured out from the white walls, pressed
forward to the foot of the rock.  Here we dismounted, and with loud
yells of savage rage dashed up the rough narrow way that gave entrance
to the town.  Many of my companions fell dead or wounded ere they
reached the hastily-barred gate, but by dint of fierce and dogged
determination, we pushed forward in force so great that we managed to at
last batter down the huge wooden doors.  Next second we poured into the
place in overwhelming numbers.  Up its steep streets, so narrow that two
asses could not pass abreast, we engaged Spahis and Zouaves
hand-to-hand.  So strong was our force that soon we overwhelmed them,
and commenced loud cries of triumph as we dashed up towards the Kasbah.
Suddenly, however, as we approached it we saw that its walls literally
swarmed with French soldiers who, at word of command, fired a withering
volley from their rifles which caused us to hold back dismayed.

Colonel Bonnemain had evidently received reinforcements.  With their
firearms they were more than a match for us.

"Courage, brothers!"  I heard Tamahu cry as he brandished his spear.
"Let us show these dogs of infidels that the Touaregs are no cowards.
Of a verity the Roumis shall never be our masters."

With set teeth we sprang forward towards the high sun-blanched walls of
the citadel, determined to take it by assault, but alas! its battlements
were full of well-armed Spahis and Turcos, and from every point showers
of lead swept down upon us.  Still we kept on undaunted.  Once I caught
a momentary glimpse of Colonel Bonnemain.  He was standing upon the wall
bareheaded, shouting and waving his sword.  But only for an instant.  He
disappeared, and was seen no more.

Almost at the same instant a loud incessant spitting of guns deafened
us; bullets swept through our ranks in deadly hail, killing us by dozens
and maiming hundreds.  Then, dismayed, I saw mounted on the wall a
strange-looking weapon, which once charged shed rifle-balls in hundreds.
Death seemed inevitable.  My companions, appalled by the sight of that
terrible engine of destruction, wavered for an instant, then, with a cry
that Eblis was assisting the infidels, turned and fled.

Above the din of battle Tamahu shouted himself hoarse.  But darkness
having now fallen, none could discern him amid the dense smoke and
constant flashing of the guns.  Thus the defenders drove us back,
sweeping us away with their deadly machine-gun, and, making a sortie
from the fortress, bayonetted the more valiant ones.

Our cause seemed lost.  As soon, however, as we had drawn the Spahis
outside their fort, we turned, and re-engaging them hand-to-hand,
quickly hacked our way back to the very gates of the Kasbah, the streets
in the vicinity being heaped with dead and dying.  Suddenly, however, at
the moment when we were relinquishing our hope as a forlorn one, loud
shouts, followed by the beating of tam-tams, gave us renewed courage.
From mouth to mouth the glad tidings were repeated.  The Beni-Mzabs, one
of the most powerful tribes on the desert border, had come up, and being
our allies, were rendering us assistance.

Of the exciting moments which immediately succeeded, I have but vague
remembrance.  Suffice it to say that the warlike race of the Atlas to
the number of two thousand poured into Metlili, and with our forces
combined we succeeded in dislodging and totally annihilating the French
garrison.  Everywhere throughout the town fighting quickly became
general, but in such numbers had we now assembled that those holding the
Kasbah were compelled to sue for peace.  The Beni-Mzabs declined,
however, to give quarter, consequently the scenes of bloodshed were
terrible to behold.  Before dawn the sack of the town had commenced, and
everywhere the firebrand was applied.  The loot obtainable was, we
found, of very little value, nevertheless both the Beni-Mzabs and our
own tribesmen were in high glee at their first success against the
infidel forces.  It was regarded as precursory of a great victory.

Just as the sun was rising I was inside the ancient citadel so recently
the infidel stronghold, and was exploring its many courts with their old
blue-tiled fountains and cool, handsome colonnades, when suddenly as I
passed beneath an archway in the thickness of the wall a noise startled
me.  My companions in arms were regaling themselves in an open square
before the great white mosque, therefore I was alone.  Around me lay
many bodies of Touaregs, Spahis, and Beni-Mzabs, while some of the
wounded were still groaning, dying slowly, for there had been no attempt
to succour the disabled.  To fall in a holy war is not a misfortune, but
the reverse.  The noise, a loud knock, again sounded, and turning I saw
a bolted door, which I at once opened, and was confronted by a pretty
dark-haired French girl, who, glancing at me in terror for an instant,
screamed and fled down a flight of stone stairs into an impenetrable
darkness.

In a moment I dashed after her.  Already the Kasbah had been set on
fire, and to save her life instant escape was necessary.  Below, in the
small foul stone chamber, used long ago as a prison, I discovered her
crouching.  She screamed loudly at my approach, fearing me, perhaps,
because of the mysterious black veil across my face, and knowing that
the Veiled Men were of evil repute.

"Thou art Mademoiselle Gabrielle, daughter of our friend Colonel
Bonnemain," I exclaimed in the best French I could articulate.  "Fear
not, but fly at once with me, or we may both lose our lives."

"How knowest thou my name?" she gasped in amazement.  By the glimmer of
light that came from the open court above I saw that her face was
beautiful but deathly pale.  "True, I am daughter of Colonel Bonnemain,
but thou art a Touareg.  Assuredly thou art our enemy, not our friend.
Why, it was thine hosts who attacked us!"

Briefly I explained the promise of our Sheikh, assuring her of our
friendship.  At first she was inclined to doubt my sincerity, but at
length I prevailed upon her to accompany me in our race for life from
the burning ruins.  Quickly we sought Tamahu, and as there were no women
with us she was at once placed under my protection.  I was to be her
guardian and her champion during the remainder of hostilities.  Long and
earnestly we both searched and enquired for her father, the Colonel, but
could discover no trace of him.  Some of his Spahis who survived
declared that he had been struck down in the earlier hours of the
conflict, while others maintained that they had seen him fighting
uninjured up to the very last.  From our enquiries it appeared evident
that, on receiving unexpected reinforcements from the north, he had
determined upon holding out against us, and overlooking our agreement
with the Beni-Mzabs, was ill-advised enough to decline our good offices.
Then, when he found an attack in force being made, he locked Gabrielle
in a place of safety until the fight should end.

Full of excitement were those days that followed.  I must, however, here
confess that within twenty-four hours I found myself deeply attached to
this bright-eyed fragile girl whoso gallant father had disappeared so
mysteriously.  We, of the Azjars, leaving the prosperous town of Metlili
a mere pile of smoking ruins, encamped for a few days in the vicinity
where there was an excellent well, then together with the fierce
horsemen of the Beni-Mzab set our heads towards Wargla, another French
outpost.  At first Gabrielle felt the fatigue of travel terribly.
Fortunately she could ride well, and as her inseparable companion, I
endeavoured to render her journey as comfortable as possible.  At my
suggestion she had exchanged her European clothes for the _serroual_ and
_haick_ of the Arab women, finding that mode of dress more comfortable
and less conspicuous than her own; and so light-hearted she grew that
not unfrequently she would join me in a cigarette.  Her grace and manner
charmed us all.  The fierce horsemen of the Azjar and the Beni-Mzab are
scarcely chivalrous where women are concerned, but ere we had been on
the march three days there was not a single tribesman who would not
execute her slightest wish.

Riding day by day over the breathless solitudes of sand, no single word
of complaint ever escaped her.  Whenever we halted, before she ate she
would busy herself in attending to our wounded; sometimes bandaging an
arm or a leg, at others pouring out water and handing it to a thirsty
man with a pleasing smile that quickened his pulse.  Then, after we had
eaten and turned our faces to the Holy Ca'aba, she would take an old
Spanish mandoline which one of my companions had picked up cheap long
ago in Oran, and play and sing to us in a sweet contralto songs from her
own far-off Paris.  They were mostly gay _chansons_, such as one hears
in the _cafes_ in Algiers, and those with refrains were sung lustily in
chorus by the whole of the great assembly.

One night after she had given us several songs I persuaded her to dance.
To those unaccustomed to life in the desert the scene would have
appeared a strange one.  The bright moonlight shining full upon her,
tipped also with silver the keen heads of a couple of thousand spears
upon which her audience leaned.  She had fascinated them.  Unanimously
it had been declared that she was an enchantress.  Only one fact
remained to mar her happiness: her uncertainty regarding her father's
fate.

"I will dance on one condition, Ahamadou," she answered in French,
throwing back her pretty head and showing her white teeth as she
laughed.

"What is that?"

"I will dance if thou wilt take off that hideous black veil.  Thou hast
been my friend all this time, yet, strangely enough, I have never beheld
thy face."

I hesitated.  Such a demand was unusual, for a Touareg never removes his
veil.

My companions overhearing, and noticing my disinclination to acquiesce,
with one accord urged me to accede, and at last, amid much good humour,
I unwound my black _litham_.

Long and earnestly she looked into my eyes.  Her gaze lingered upon me
strangely, I thought; then suddenly clapping her hands, she raised her
long white arms above her head, and to the thumping of four _derboukas_,
one of which I held, she commenced a slow graceful dance.  Never tired
of exerting herself to comfort the wounded or amuse those who were her
father's bitterest foes, she danced on until she sank completely out of
breath.  Then she reclined upon the soft rugs spread for her, and, with
Tamahu and myself, smoked a cigarette in silence.  From her full red
lips she blew clouds of smoke, and watched it curl upward in the still
night air.  I glanced at her furtively, and saw that she had grown
unusually thoughtful.  Her brilliant eyes were fixed upon the stars.

At last, pillowing her handsome head upon a leopard's skin I rolled and
placed for her, she wished me "Peace," and presently closed her eyes in
sleep.

Silence, dead and complete, had fallen upon the camp.  The stillness was
only broken by the uneasy groaning of a camel or the soft footfall of a
sentry whose spear gleamed afar in the white moonbeams.  Gabrielle's
heart slowly heaved and fell as she slept.  Through that calm night I
sat, hugging my knees and thinking deeply.  Try how I would, I could not
get rid of the one thought that for days had possessed me, the thought
of her.  That she had entranced me; that she held me in her toils
irrevocably, I could not deny.  Never before had I looked upon any woman
with affection until now.  But I loved with all my heart and soul this
delicate Roumi, whose fair face the sun had never kissed.

Was it not in order to behold my countenance she had that evening
requested me to remove my _litham_?  Her every word, her every action,
now that I recalled them, showed plainly that she did not regard me with
disfavour.  The moon waned, the stars paled, and dawn was nigh ere I
cast myself upon the warm sand near her, and snatched a brief hour's
repose, not, however, before I had carefully placed a rug about her,
fearing lest the morning dew, so deadly to Europeans, should chill her.

One bright balmy night we reached El Okaz, and halted.  It was a large
oasis with running water, luxuriant vegetation, and many palms.  When
the _maghrib_ had been said, the evening meal eaten, and the sun was
slowly sinking, I went forth among the trees to search for camel-grass,
and invited Gabrielle to accompany me.  She walked by my side, and when
we were out of hearing I took her tiny hand in mine, and, raising it
reverently to my lips, declared my love.

Slowly, but resolutely, she drew her hand away.  The last ray of
sunlight tipped her hair with molten gold as we stood together beneath a
great high palm.  Her brilliant eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Alas! no, Ahamadou," she answered huskily.  "We must not love each
other, it would wreck both our lives."

"Why not?"  I cried passionately, my arm around her waist, her slim
white hand raised again to my lips.  "I adore you.  To me thou art my
life, my love, my everything."

"Ah! yes," she sighed sadly.  "To you I owe my life.  You have all been
so good to me, although I am a woman of the Franks, that I can scarce
believe that you are actually the Azjars, the dreaded Breath of the
Wind, reports of whose exploits have times without number caused me to
shudder."

"An Azjar never forgets a favour nor forgives a false friend," I
answered.  "To our enemies we are brutal and relentless; yet those who
eat our salt need never fear.  Already hast thou had experience of the
treatment the stranger receiveth within our tents."

"True," she answered, her hand closing tightly over mine.  "I have had
experience of thine own tender care of me, Ahamadou, yet--"

"Yet thou hast already grown tired of our life?"  I hazarded
reproachfully.

"Ah! no," she said quickly, fixing her brilliant eyes upon mine.  "Thou
hast asked if I could ever love thee.  I tell thee that I do love thee,
yet there is between us a barrier of blood, and such love can only bring
unhappiness unto us both."

"Thou lovest me!"  I cried, delighted, and taking her soft cheeks
between my hard, sun-browned hands, our lips met for the first time in a
long passionate caress.  Again, she put me from her, saying--"No, it can
never be.  We are of different races, different creeds.  What is right
in thine eyes is sin in mine; what is worship to thee is, to me,
idolatry.  No, Ahamadou.  It must not be.  We must not love, for we can
never marry."

I was silent.  Her argument seemed utterly unassailable.  Never before
had I faced the situation until now.  She had, indeed, spoken the truth.

"But we love each other!"  I cried, dolefully.

"Yes," she sighed, shaking her head.  "I confess that I love thee," and
her fingers again gripped my hand.  "But it is the very fact that we
love one another that should cause us to part and forget."

"Why?  Until the war is ended thou must, of necessity, remain in our
camp," I observed.

"And after?"

"Then we could return to Algiers, or to Oran, and marry."

She remained silent for a few moments, nervously toying with the single
ring of emeralds upon her finger.

"No," she answered at length.  "This love between us is but a passing
fancy.  When the war is at an end, thou wilt have become convinced of
the truth of my words."

"Never," I answered.  "I love thee now; I shall love thee always."

"Alas!" she said, laying her hand softly upon my shoulder, and looking
earnestly into my face.  "Now that we have both made confession we must
endeavour to forget.  We love each other, but the wide difference in our
races renders happiness impossible.  Thou wilt find for wife some good
woman of thine own people, and I--perhaps I shall find some man of mine
own nationality to become my husband.  From to-night, Ahamadou, if thou
lovest me, thou wilt make no further sign."

I bit my lip to the blood.  Although she had uttered these words, I saw
that she nevertheless loved me with a mad, passionate love, for soon
down her pink cheeks tears were coursing.

"Thou art all to me--everything, Gabrielle," I cried.  "Allah knoweth
how deeply and honestly I adore thee, I--"

The sound of a rifle-shot startled us.  With bated breath we both
strained our ears.  The evening gloom had crept on unperceived, and it
was almost dark.  In rapid succession other shots sounded, followed by
the fierce fiendish war-cry of the Beni-Mzabs.  Instantly the truth
flashed upon me.  We had been surprised by the French!

By the route we had come we sped back to the encampment, where we found
all confusion.  A large body of Spahis had made a sudden and determined
attack, but it had been repulsed.  My first thought was of Gabrielle's
safety.  I found cover for her behind a huge boulder, and telling her to
seat herself, and not attempt to watch the progress of the fight,
returned, spear in hand, to bear my part against our enemies.

The cessation of the fighting was only for a few minutes.  We heard the
sudden sound of a bugle, and from among the trees there dashed a
formidable troop of red-burnoused horsemen, led by a young European
officer, who sat his horse as if he were part of it.  Even in that
moment of excitement I admired the way he rode.  The charge was,
however, an ill-fated one.  Not half those who dashed forward lived to
retreat.  The Arabs of the Mechefer, who had recently joined us,
possessed guns, and the flashing of these, in combination with those of
our enemies, illumined the darkness, while the still air was full of
dense, stifling smoke.  More desperate each moment the conflict grew.
Undismayed by loss or misfortune, we thrice returned their attack, each
time with increasing force, until our bullets and keen spears commenced
to work havoc among the infidel ranks.  East and furious became the
fight, but gradually the attack upon us grew weaker, and at last,
determined upon reprisals, Tamahu ordered a dash forward.  With one
accord we charged, and then before us the remnant of the ill-fated troop
fell back and fled to save their lives.

When I returned I found Gabrielle kneeling beside the officer whose
riding had been so conspicuous, tenderly bandaging an ugly spear-wound
he had received in the left shoulder.  She had improvised a torch, and
beneath its fitful light was pursuing her task unconscious of my
approach.  Upon the clammy brow of the unconscious man she placed her
cool, soft hand; then, having felt his pulse, she seemed satisfied, and
taking her flambeau went forward to one of my own tribesmen who had been
injured in the breast.  From the deep shadow wherein I stood I watched
her, white-robed and fair like one of the good genii of whom the Koran
tells us, passing from one to another, alleviating their sufferings as
best she could, uttering cheering words, or giving water to the dying.
I did not approach her, for my heart seemed too full.  It was best, I
thought, to leave her alone to her merciful work.

Before the sun rose many of those whom she had so carefully tended and
watched had drawn their last breath, but the young officer, whose name I
afterwards learned was Andre de Freyville, lieutenant of Spahis, had
recovered consciousness sufficiently to thank his nurse, and learn from
her lips the curious circumstances which had led her to accept the
hospitality of our tents.  He proved a pleasant fellow, and during his
convalescence we all three had frequent chats together.  Although he was
our prisoner-of-war, he soon became on excellent terms with Tamahu, and
his time passed happily enough.  Colonel Bonnemain had, he told us,
escaped when Metlili fell, and had reached Algiers unharmed.

Soon, in order to join forces with another large body of horsemen moving
from the great Hammada, or stony tableland, in Tripoli, we advanced to
the oasis of Medagin, two days' march from El Aghouat, then held in such
force by the French that we dared not attack it.

Reaching Medagin at noon, we encamped.  When the stars shone both
Gabrielle and De Freyville sang us some French _chansons_, the one
accompanying the other upon the mandoline.  Before we scooped out our
hollows in the sand to form our couches I borrowed a gun from one of the
Arabs, intending to go out at dawn to shoot some desert-partridges in
which the oasis abounds.  Ere day broke I rose, and leaving the whole
camp in slumber, strolled away to a rocky spot I had on the previous day
noted as a likely place to find the birds.  It was on the edge of the
oasis, at some distance from the well where we had encamped.  When I
arrived there the sun had not risen, and the birds were still roosting.
Therefore, with my rifle loaded with a bullet (for I had no small shot),
I sat down to wait.

For perhaps half-an-hour I had remained when my quick ear detected the
sounds of horses' hoofs.  Believing the newcomer to be a French vedette
I drew back behind a large boulder, with the barrel of my rifle placed
upon the top of the rock in readiness to pick him off as he passed.  On
came the horseman, until suddenly he emerged from among the mimosas and
euphorbias.  An ejaculation of dismay involuntarily left my lips.  There
was not one horse, but two.  The riders were fugitives.  They were our
prisoner-of-war, Lieutenant de Freyville, and Gabrielle Bonnemain, the
woman I loved.

Mounted upon horses they had secured, they spurred forward together at
headlong speed.  Their way on to the desert lay down a narrow stony
ravine, to traverse which they would be compelled to pass close by the
spot where I was lying in ambush.  On they came swiftly, without a word.
Inwardly I gloated over my revenge.

This man was stealing from me the woman I loved dearer than life.  And
she--she had declared that she loved me!  Yet her words were foul lies.
She should die!

I fingered the trigger, and held my gun to my shoulder in readiness as
the pair pressed forward, unconscious of their approaching doom.  If
ever the spirit of murder entered my soul, it was at that moment.

When within a leopard's leap of the muzzle of my rifle she turned back
towards her companion, uttered some gay words to him, threw back her
head and laughed lightly, displaying her white teeth.

I raised my rifle and took deliberate aim at her panting breast.  My
hands trembled.  Next second a flood of bitter recollections surged
through my brain.  I remembered those solemn words she had uttered: "We
are of different races; different creeds.  What is right in thine eyes
is sin in mine; what is worship to thee is, to me, idolatry.  It is the
very fact that we love one another that should cause us to part and
forget."

Yes, my enchantress had spoken the truth.

My hands were nerveless.  I dropped my gun, the weapon with which I had
so nearly taken her young life, and through a mist of gathering tears
watched her ride rapidly away beside her newly-discovered lover, and
disappear over the dune towards El Aghouat.

When she had gone, my head sank upon my breast and my teeth were set,
for full well I knew that never again could I love any woman as truly as
I had loved her.  My pole-star, the light of my life, had for ever been
extinguished.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE SECRET OF SA.

Through the very heart of the barren, naked Saharan country, that
boundless sea of red-brown arid sands, which, like the ocean itself, is
subject to fitful moods of calm and storm, there runs a deep rocky
ravine which has ever been a mystery to geographers.  It commences near
the shore of Lake Tsad, and extending for nearly eight hundred miles due
north to Lake Melghir, is known as the Igharghar, and is the dried-up
bed of a river, which, with its tributaries, once rendered this bare
wilderness one of the most fertile spots on earth, but which, for
upwards of two thousand years, has ceased to flow.  Strangely enough,
the country traversed by this great stony ravine is to-day the most arid
and inhospitable in the world.  The river, which, according to the
legendary stories told in the market-places of the desert towns, must
have been as mighty as the Nile, dried-up suddenly from some cause which
has always puzzled geographers.  A portion of its course, about two
hundred miles, half filled with sand, has for ages been used as the
caravan route between the city of Agades, the capital of the Air
country, and Temasinin, at the foot of the Tinghert Plateau; but the
remainder is of such a rocky character as to be impassable, and has on
many occasions served us as ambush when fighting the Ouled Sliman
marauders, our hereditary foes.

On one of these expeditions we were encamped in the shadow of some great
rocks, which had once been covered by the giant flood.  Around us on
every hand was the sandy, waterless waste, known by the ominous name of
_Ur-immandess_, "He (Allah) heareth not," that is, is deaf to the cry of
the way-laid traveller.  It is a dismal tract, one of the most hot and
arid in the whole of Northern Africa.  The poison-wind blows almost
continually, and the general appearance of the sand dunes is altered
almost hour by hour.  We were six days' march off an interesting little
walled town I had once visited, called Azaka 'n Ahkar, where stands the
curious tomb of a chieftain who fell during the Arab invasion over a
thousand years ago, and to the west, within sight, was the low dark hill
known to us as Mount Hikena, a spot feared universally throughout the
desert as the abode of the jinns.

Already had we engaged the fierce host of the Ouled Sliman in deadly
conflict at the well of Agnar, but finding our opponents armed with
rifles procured from European traders, we had drawn off in an endeavour
to entice them into the Wady Igharghar, where our superior knowledge of
the ground would give us distinct advantage.  Our losses three days
before had been very serious, and our Sheikh Tamahu had despatched
messengers in all haste to the oasis of Noum-en-Nas, six marches
distant, to urge forward reinforcements.  That night, when the moon had
risen, I accompanied Hamoud, one of my companions, as scout, to travel
northward along the dried-up watercourse, to make a _reconnaissance_,
and to ascertain if the enemy were in the vicinity.  To ride up that
valley, choked by its myriad boulders, was impossible, therefore we were
compelled to journey on foot.

Had we ascended to the desert we should have imperilled our camp, for
our enemies in search of us would undoubtedly detect our presence.  We
had pitched our tents at a secluded inaccessible spot, where the
dried-up river had taken a sudden bend, in the heart of a country
scarcely ever traversed.  Through the long brilliant night with my
companion I pressed forward, sometimes clambering over rough rocks,
split by the heat of noon and chills of night, and at others sinking
knee-deep in soft sand-drifts.  When dawn spread we now and then
clambered up the steep sides of the valley and cautiously took
observations.  In that region, the surface of the desert being perfectly
flat, any object can be seen at great distances, therefore we at all
times were careful not to stand upright, but remained crouched upon our
faces.  So dry also is the atmosphere that any sudden movement, such as
the flapping of a burnouse or the swish of a horse's tail, will cause
sparks to be emitted.

Beneath the milk-white sky of noon, when the fiery sun shone like a disc
of burnished copper, we threw ourselves down beneath the shadow of a
huge boulder to eat and rest.  Hamoud, older than myself, was a typical
nomad, bearded, bronzed, and a veritable giant in stature.  His physical
strength and power of endurance was greater than that of any other of
our tribesmen, and he was always amiable and light-hearted.  While he
lit his keef-pipe and chatted, I gazed about me, noticing how, by the
action of the eddying waters of this dried-up river, the very name of
which is lost to us, the hard, grey rock above had been worn smooth and
hollow.  The mystery of the Igharghar had always attracted me since my
earliest boyhood.  Why this mighty stream, in some places nearly six
miles wide, should have suddenly ceased to flow, fertilise, and give
life to the great tract it traversed was a problem which the wise men of
all ages had failed to solve.  True, the One Merciful heard not in that
wild, unfrequented region.  It was the country accursed and forgotten of
Allah.

When, in the cooler hours, we resumed our journey, ever-watchful for the
presence of the Ouled Sliman, on every side we noticed unmistakable
traces of the enormous width and depth of the giant waterway.  About
noon on the second day I had ascended to the desert to scan the horizon,
when I discovered some ruined masonry, half-buried beneath its
winding-sheet of sand.  On the keystone of an arch I found an
inscription in Roman characters, and here and there stood broken columns
and portions of grey time-worn walls.

It was the site of an effaced and forgotten city; a centre of culture
and civilisation which had owed its very existence to this great river,
and had declined and fallen when the stream had so mysteriously ceased
to flow.  The once fertile land had withered, and become a dreary,
sunburnt, uninhabitable wilderness.

Ask any marabout from Morocco to far-off Tripoli, and he will declare
that for some reason unknown, Allah, before the days of his Prophet, set
the mark of his displeasure upon the country known to us as the Ahaggar.
It is not, therefore, surprising that the Ouled Sliman, our enemies,
should be known throughout the desert as the Children of Eblis.

As, spear in hand, I walked at Hamoud's side along that vanished fluvial
basin, I discussed the probable causes of the sudden failure of that
mighty flow.  He suggested that its source might by some means have
become exhausted; but geographers having ages ago disposed of that
point, I explained to him how every theory possible had already been put
forward and dismissed.  The mysterious forgotten river was still a
geographical problem as great as the existence of open water at the
poles.

Through two more days we journeyed forward, ever-watchful, yet
discerning no sign of our enemies; but at length, coming to a steep bare
cliff, once undoubtedly a roaring cataract, we found its granite bed had
been worn into ridges two thousand years ago by the action of the
torrent.  At this point the plateau over which we had journeyed
descended sheer and steep on to the plain, of which we commanded an
extensive view for many miles.  An hour before sundown the sky had
suddenly darkened, indicative of an approaching sandstorm, therefore we
resolved to remain there the night and retrace our steps next day.  Our
fears were realised.  Shortly before midnight, as we sat together
smoking, the unclouded starry sky assumed an extraordinary clearness.
The atmosphere was perfectly still, when suddenly in the east a black
cloud began to rise with frightful rapidity, and soon covered half the
heavens.  Presently a strong gust of wind enveloped us with sand, and
threw little pebbles as large as peas into our faces.  Soon, while we
crouched beneath a rock, we were surrounded by a dense cloud of sand,
and stood still in impenetrable gloom.  The storm was of unusual
severity.  Our eyes were filled with grit every time we ventured to open
them.  We did not dare to lie down for fear of being buried.  The
tempest at last passed, the night quickly grew clear again, and,
extricating ourselves from the sand that had drifted high about us, we
lay down exhausted to sleep.

Before dawn I rose, and, without disturbing the heavy slumber of my
companion, strode forth along the brink of the dried-up cataract to
examine more closely the hitherto unexplored spot.  The sun-whitened
boulders were all worn smooth where the gigantic rush of the waters had
whirled past them ere they dashed below into that once fertile plain.
And as I went along I presently discovered a place where I could descend
the face of the cliff.  Without difficulty I at last reached its base,
and stepping forward, placed my foot upon soft drifted sand that gave
way beneath my tread.

With startling suddenness a strange sound fell upon my ears, deafening
me.  I felt myself falling, and in clutching frantically at the objects
around, struck my head a violent blow.  Then all consciousness became
blotted out.

How long I remained insensible I do not know.  I have an idea that many
hours must have elapsed, for when painfully I struggled back to a
knowledge of things about me, I found myself enveloped in a darkness
blacker than night, my ears being filled by a continuous unceasing roar
like thunder.  I was chilled to the bone, and on stretching forth my
hand, found myself lying upon a mass of soft slime, that splashing over
my face had half-suffocated me.  With both hands outstretched, I tried
to discover into what noisome place I had so suddenly been precipitated.
Intently I listened.  The roaring was that of some mighty unseen
torrent.

Creeping cautiously forward upon my hands and knees, fearing lest I
should stumble into any further chasm, I soon came to water flowing
swiftly past.  Then the truth dawned upon me that I was beside the bank
of some unknown subterranean river.  Of the extent of that dark
cavernous place I could obtain no idea.  Thrice I shouted with all my
strength, but in that deafening roar my voice was echoless.

With a supplication to Allah to envelop me with the cloak of his
protection, I cautiously pursued my way over the stones and slime in the
direction the unseen stream was rushing.  The incline was steep, and as
the air seemed cool and fresh, I felt assured there must be some outlet
to the blessed light of day.  Yet onward I crept slowly, chilled by the
icy mud, until my limbs trembled, and I was compelled to pause and rub
them to prevent them becoming benumbed.

Truly mine was an unenvious position.  Throughout my life it has been my
endeavour to tread those crooked and laborious paths whereby knowledge
of hidden mysteries may be gained, therefore I worked on like a mole in
the dark, and by diligent industry gained ground considerably.  During
several hours I pushed my way forward, until at length my hands came
into contact with a wall of rock which barred all further passage,
although the water lapping it swirled past on its downward course.
Eagerly I felt about the rock, searching for some mode of egress, but
could find none.  The wall of the enormous cavern extended sheer and
unbroken for five hundred paces, then turned back in the direction I had
already traversed.  Thus was a terrible truth forced upon me.  I was
entombed!

My injured head pained me frightfully, and I must have become weakened
by loss of blood.  The terrors of that foul, fearsome place, where the
deafening roar was unceasing, and the blackness could be felt,
overwhelmed me.  I groped back to the edge of the roaring torrent
exhausted, and sinking, slept.

When I awoke I was amazed to find the cavern illumined by a faint
greenish light, just sufficient to enable me to see that the rushing,
foaming waters were of great width and volume, and that the cavern
whence they came was low, but of vast extent.  Then, turning towards the
light, I found that it shone up through the water beyond the wall of
rock which formed that side of the cave.  At first the strange light
puzzled me, but I soon ascertained that the subterranean river emptied
itself into the open air at that spot, and that the sun shining upon the
water as it rushed out of its underground course, reflected the welcome
light up to where I stood.  The discovery held me breathless.  I saw
that in such enormous volume did those icy waters sweep down, that the
opening in the rock whence they were let free was completely filled.
There was, after all, no exit.

At the edge of the boiling torrent I stood calmly contemplating the
advisability of plunging in and allowing myself to be swept out into the
air.  The only thing which deterred me from so doing was the fear that
outside the cataract fell down from some dizzy height into a foaming
flood below, in which case I must be either battered to death upon the
rocks or drowned beneath the descending tons of water.  The thought of
this terrible fate thrilled me with horror.

Of a sudden I heard above the roar a man's voice; and startled, turned
round, and saw a long boat, shaped something like a canoe, containing
two dark figures, being propelled swiftly towards me.

Agape in wonder I stood watching them.

Ere I could realise the truth, they had run their craft up high and dry
where I stood, and were beside me, questioning me in some strange,
unknown tongue.  In that faint green light they looked weird, impish
figures.  Small of stature, their skins were a lightish yellow; they
wore curious necklets and armlets of chased bones, and their loincloths
were scaly, like the skin of some fish or serpent.  In their hands they
both carried long barbed spears.  They had been fishing, for their boat
was nearly full.

To their rapid questions I could only shake my head, when in an instant
the roar of the waters increased, until speech became impossible.
Terrified they both, next second, leaped into their boat and dragged me
in after them.  Their promptitude saved my life, for ere an instant had
elapsed our boat became lifted by an enormous inrush, which flooded the
whole cavern to a depth of many feet.  Our boat rose so near the roof
that we were compelled to crouch down to prevent our heads being jammed,
and soon I found myself being rowed rapidly along in triumph into the
impenetrable darkness.  I had escaped death by a hair's breadth, but
what grim adventure was yet in store for me I dreaded to anticipate.

My impish captors bent hard at their paddles, exchanging muttered words,
until soon the roaring of the torrent sounded indistinct, and we found
ourselves out upon a great subterranean lake of limitless extent.  The
eyes of my companions, accustomed to that appalling darkness, could
discern objects where I could distinguish nothing.  As we went forward
the current became weaker, and now and then I felt a splashing as a
large fish was lifted from the water impaled upon a spear.  Yet ever
forward we kept on and on, for fully two hours, until suddenly I saw a
faint glimmer of grey light upon the wide expanse of black water, and
when we neared it I discerned that there was a huge crack in the roof of
rock and it was open to the sky, but so great was the distance to the
world above, that only a faint glimmer penetrated there.

By its light I distinguished how clear and deep were the waters, and
noticed that the fish my companions had caught were of a uniform grey
colour, without eyes.  In the impenetrable darkness of those
subterranean depths the organs of vision, I afterwards ascertained,
never developed.  The eyes of the two men with me were also
strange-looking, set closely together, dark and bead-like.

But we paused not, holding straight upon our way, plunging again into
the cavernous blackness, until presently there showed before us a golden
shaft of sunlight striking full into the waters, and in a few moments we
emerged into an open space green and fertile, surrounded on every side
by high rocks, honeycombed with small caves, while the great unknown
river itself disappeared beyond into a wide dark tunnel.

Scarcely had we disembarked than the place literally swarmed with the
uncanny-looking denizens of this underground realm, who, issuing from
their cave-dwellings, eyed me curiously with greatest caution.  I had
not removed my _litham_, and they undoubtedly were suspicious of a
stranger who veiled his face.

My captors, with much wild gesticulation, explained the circumstances in
which they had discovered me, and presently, when I had been thoroughly
inspected by all, and my appearance commented upon, my veil was
surreptitiously snatched from my pallid face, and I was hurried into one
of the small cell-like caverns, and there secured to the rock by a
rudely constructed chain.  Soon food was brought me, and the inhabitants
of the curious unknown country formed a ring near the river bank, and
commenced to execute a kind of wild dance, accompanied by fiendish
yells, working themselves into a frenzy, like the dancers of the Ouled
Nails.  For a long time I watched their weird pantomimic gyrations, when
at length my eyes were startled at beholding, in the centre of the
circle, a tall man of much paler complexion than my own, dressed in a
few dilapidated rags.  Once or twice only I caught a glimpse of him, and
then I recognised that his face was that of an European, and his dress
the tattered remains of a French military uniform.  His beard and
moustache seemed ashen grey, and upon his haggard countenance, as he
stood motionless and statuesque amid the dancers, was a weary look of
blank despair.  He also was a captive.

The strange-looking, yellow-skinned people of this riparian region at
length ceased dancing, and with one accord knelt around him in
adoration, worshipping him as though he were an idol.  The scene, as
they gabbled words in an unknown tongue, was weird and impressive.  My
fellow-captive did not apparently notice me, therefore, fearing to rouse
the ire of this hitherto undiscovered people by shouting, I possessed
myself in patience.  The curious form of pagan worship at last ended;
the unfortunate European was released and allowed to seek his abode, a
small hole in the rock close to mine, and the impish-looking men
dispersed, leaving me to my own dismal thoughts.  Ere long the shadows
lengthened as the sun sank behind the high rocks, and dusk crept on.
About the open space which served as street, men and women of the
curious tribe squatted, smoked, and chattered, while others, entering
their boats armed with fishing-spears, paddled off down the subterranean
stream in the direction I had come.  Night fell, and at last the
cave-dwellers slept.

Slumber, however, came not to my wearied eyes, and for many hours I sat
thinking over my strange position, my thoughts being suddenly disturbed
by a noise as of some one moaning near me.  It was the mysterious
European.

With slow steps and bent head he passed by, when, in a low clear voice,
I accosted him in French.

Startled, he halted, peering towards me; and when I had uttered a few
reassuring words, telling him that I was his fellow-captive, he came
towards me, looking half-suspiciously into my face, and enquired my
name.

I told him who I was, then made a similar enquiry.

"My name is Flatters," he answered in Arabic.  "Thou mayest, perhaps,
have heard of me in thy wanderings through the Desert?"

"Flatters!"  I cried.  "Art thou Colonel Flatters, the lost explorer
whom the French have sought these three whole years?"

"The same," he answered, sighing deeply, his arms crossed over his
breast.  "For three years I have been held captive in this noisome Land
of Sa."

His tall dark figure stood out against the starlight, his head bowed in
dejection.  By this brave explorer's exploits the whole world had more
than once been thrilled.  By his intrepidity and ability to withstand
the sudden extremes of heat and cold in our Great Desert, the French War
Department had been enabled to complete their map of the Saharan plains.
It was he who explored all the hitherto unknown region around El Biodh;
who discovered and published explanations of the wonderful ruins of
Tikbaben; who found the Afeli source; who climbed the mountain of
Iraouen, and penetrated the country of the Ennitra, into which even we
of the Azjar feared to venture.  Twice he traversed the stony Tinghert
tableland; but on the third occasion, while in the far south near Lake
Tsad, he suddenly disappeared, and although the French authorities had
offered a reward of ten thousand francs to any one who could solve the
mystery of his death or capture, and had sent two formidable expeditions
across the desert, with a view of obtaining some tidings of him, all
efforts had been futile.

Yet he had been here, a prisoner in the hands of these uncanny dwellers
beneath the earth's surface!

"Hast thou made no attempt to escape?"  I enquired, as he seated himself
wearily upon a ledge of rock near me.

"Yes," he answered despondently; "but my diaries and geological
collections have been lost.  All egress from this place is closed.  Yon
rocks are too sheer and high to be scaled, and the black flood hath
risen so that there is neither entrance nor exit."

Briefly, I told him the manner in which I found myself in that dark
cavern with its noisy torrent, and when I had finished he explained the
manner in which he had disappeared.

"I set forth from Algiers with five European companions, and after
travelling for nine months along unfrequented paths in the inhospitable
Ahaggar, found myself at Mount El Aghil alone, all my fellow-travellers
having died.  Unable to return by the route I had come on account of the
fierce hostility of the Kel-Rhela, whose vengeance I had narrowly
escaped, I was compelled to push on still southward through the Air
country, reaching at last, close to the dried-up course of the
Igharghar, a large and curious oasis, the earth of which was perfectly
black and quite soft, contrasting strangely with the dull red sand of
the surrounding desert.  The vegetation was luxuriant, water-melons grew
in rich profusion, and in exploring it I discovered, to my astonishment,
a small but beautiful lake.  About the oasis were large rocks, and in
one of these I found an opening with curious signs rudely curved at the
entrance.  They appeared to be the hieroglyphics of some ancient race,
and their strange character aroused my curiosity.  Unlike any hitherto
discovered, they were of huge design, representing men, monstrosities,
and animals of unknown species, yet only superficially outlined,
apparently with the most inadequate tools.  Not only were they at the
entrance, but on lighting a torch I found the interior of the cavern
completely covered by these grotesque drawings; and it was while engaged
in these interesting investigations that I suddenly stumbled into a
narrow chasm that had evidently been hidden by dried branches to form a
pitfall for the unwary.  When I recovered consciousness I, like thyself,
found myself captive in the hands of these fierce primitive barbarians
of the nether world."

"But who are they?"  I enquired.  "I have never heard mention of them
before."

"Nor I," he answered.  "To our world they are as absolutely unknown as
this mighty subterranean flood.  During my captivity I have managed to
learn some words of their tongue.  Their gloomy, mysterious region is
known to them as Sa."

"But the river itself amazes me," I observed.

"True.  Our accidental discoveries have proved an important geographical
fact hitherto undreamed-of, namely, that the reason the mighty Igharghar
no longer flows to irrigate the desert is because it has found a
subterranean channel, and for ages has been still roaring on beneath its
ancient bed towards the sea."

"Whence, in your opinion, cometh this mysterious river?"  I enquired.

"From Lake Tsad, undoubtedly.  The fish in its waters, although grey and
sightless, because of the perpetual darkness in which they live, are of
the same species as those I found in the lake.  The strangest part of my
adventure is that these people, never having before seen a white man,
believe me to be some supernatural visitant, and worship me as Sa, their
principal god."

Then, while he listened attentively, I told him of the cavern where the
river apparently rushed out into the open air, and suggested that, as a
desperate and last resource, we might endeavour to escape by plunging
into the chilly stream and allowing ourselves to be carried forth into
the unknown.  On due consideration, however, we agreed that this project
was not feasible, on account of the swollen state of the dark flood, and
as an alternative resolved to steal one of the canoes and explore the
upper reaches of the mysterious underground stream.  This decision we
followed by immediate action.  The explorer, obtaining a roughly
fashioned hammer of stone from his own little cave, quickly severed my
fetters, and together we crept out across the small deserted grass-plain
to where the boats were moored.  In one of them we found paddles,
torches and spears, and, stepping in, pushed off and shot silently out
into the darkness.  Ere we had done so, however, we heard a loud ringing
shout close to the bank.  Our flight had been discovered.

We each seized a paddle and pulled away with all our might against the
stream.  Quickly we entered the cavern opposite that through which I had
been conveyed.  The blackness was complete, but we strained every muscle
in our efforts to propel forward our frail craft.  Soon behind us we
heard the wild, fierce yells of our pursuers, and knowing that their
eyes, accustomed to that appalling gloom, could discern objects where we
of the outer world could detect nothing, we feared lest we might be
overtaken.  Their angry voices echoed weirdly along the rocky roof, and
we could hear the violent splashing of their paddles as they sped along
in our wake.

In this mad dash into the unknown realm of perpetual night we shot
forward with utter disregard of what dangers lay before.  We knew not,
from one moment to another, whether we were heading up the great broad
river, or whether rowing straight towards the rocky sides of the cavern.
So light and flimsy was our craft that the least collision with a piece
of jutting rock would have sent us down to depths unfathomable.  At that
moment we were enveloped by an hundred perils.

To our surprise and profound satisfaction, we at length realised that
the voices of our irate pursuers were growing fainter.  They had
evidently mistaken the direction we had taken, therefore we slowed up,
and presently rested, spent and panting.

I could hear the French officer's hard breathing, but the darkness was
so intense that we could not see each other.

"We have unconsciously entered a tributary of the main stream," he
observed, gasping for breath.  "Listen, the sounds are receding.  At
least for the present we are safe.  Let us rest."

Nothing loth, I bent slowly across my paddle, now and then pulling a few
strokes to prevent us drifting, and discussing our position in a low
voice so that no echo should betray our presence.  Thus we remained
fully half-an-hour, until both of us had refreshed ourselves, then
together we paddled on swiftly, yet full of caution.  No glimmer of
light penetrated that dispiriting gloom, and we feared to ignite one of
our torches.  Toiling forward, the perspiration rolling off us in great
beads, we still continued pulling against the strong current for several
hours, until suddenly we saw before us two large shafts of brilliant
light striking down from above into the water.  Slowly we approached
lest any of the denizens of Sa should be lurking there; but ere long, as
we came nearer, our eyes were dazzled by a sight so amazing that
expressions of wonder involuntarily escaped our parched lips.

In the light before us we saw clearly outlined a colossal face with
hideous grin, carved from the black rock.  It was truly gigantic,
marvellously fashioned, with huge ears and an expression absolutely
demoniacal, the two shafts of bright light issuing forth from the eyes
giving it an expression of intense ferocity.  We rested on our paddles
beneath it, and looked up aghast.

"This," cried Colonel Flatters, "must be the god Sa, of whom I have
heard so much during my sojourn with these people.  He is their
principal deity, and supposed to be the inexorable guardian of this
remarkable kingdom."

"See!"  I exclaimed, regarding the extraordinary stone countenance in
amazement.  "The light from those eyes is sunlight!  They are merely
holes upon which the sun is shining full!"

And such it proved to be.  Through the round apertures far up above,
light and air were admitted from the desert.

When at last our vision became accustomed to the welcome rays of light
we made another bewildering discovery.  The rock descended sheer into
the black flood, but in little niches which had been rudely fashioned
lay small heaps of gold ornaments and glittering gems, the sacrifices of
this stone god's votaries.  Together we pulled our canoe close to the
rock, taking care that the rapid swirl of the current did not hurl our
craft against the jagged stones, and with my hand I clutched a heap of
fine ornaments set with emeralds, pearls, and diamonds.  In the sunlight
we both examined them, finding they were evidently of very ancient
manufacture, possibly the spoils of war against some long-forgotten but
cultured nation.  In workmanship they were similar to the ornaments
found in the tombs of ancient Egypt; they had evidently never been
manufactured by the barbarous people into whose possession they had
passed.

Before us was blackness impenetrable, and upon our ears there broke a
distant roar, as of a cataract.  The sound appalled us.  If a cataract
actually lay before, then escape was absolutely hopeless.

But the fact that far above gleamed the sun gave us renewed courage, and
after some discussion we became convinced that, this colossal face being
regarded as the guardian of the unexplored country, an exit existed
there.  After some difficulty we ignited one of our torches, and with it
stuck in the bows of the canoe, rode backwards and forwards, minutely
examining the base of the rock.  Once we passed so near that my
companion was able to secure a handful of gems for himself, and both of
us secreted these stolen votive offerings about our garments.  The two
parallel shafts of light from the eyes of the graven monstrosity,
striking deep into the river, revealed curious fish and water-snakes
disporting themselves around the boat, while great black bats which had
come in through the two openings, startled by our presence, circled
about us ominously with wide-spread flapping wings.

The water glittering beneath the torch's uncertain rays, flowed past so
swiftly, that we were compelled to continue pulling in order to remain
abreast of the idol.  Long and earnestly we both searched to find some
means by which we could reach the two holes that formed the idol's eyes;
yet they seemed so small that it was questionable whether, even if we
successfully clambered up the sculptured face, we could squeeze our
bodies through.  A dozen times we allowed the canoe to drift past, while
I endeavoured to discover some means by which to reach those glaring
eyes.  But the bright sunlight dazzled us, and beyond the tiny niches
filled with jewels there was no other inequality to serve as foothold to
gain the narrow ledge which formed the lips.  Again, if I made a false
step I should be instantly swept away by the swirling current, and lost
for ever in the dark whirling flood.

At length however my companion, muscular and agile, succeeded in
springing clear of the canoe and gripping one of the small niches,
tossing the jewels into the water by his frantic efforts.  For an
instant he struggled, his legs dangling in mid-air; then presently his
toes found foothold, and he commenced slowly to clamber up the chin of
the gigantic visage towards a kind of long ledge.  I watched his
progress breathlessly, not daring to utter a word, but keeping the canoe
in readiness to row after him if he fell.  With difficulty he ascended,
clinging on to the face of the rock until he reached the great grinning
mouth and stood up facing me.

"What do you find?"  I shouted, my voice echoing weirdly.  I had noticed
that as he glanced along the spot where he stood his face became
transfixed by horror.

"Follow me!" he replied hoarsely.  "Have a care, a single false step
means death."

At that instant the boat was passing the spot where he had gripped the
rock's face, and without hesitation I followed his example and sprang,
clutching the narrow slippery ledge with both hands.  My feet found a
resting-place, yet next second a thought which crossed my mind held me
appalled.  I had omitted to moor the boat.

Over my shoulder I throw a hasty glance.  It had already drifted out of
sight.

I heard my white companion shouting, but taking no heed toiled on up the
great face until a strong helping hand gripped mine, and I found myself
standing beside him upon the narrow ledge forming the lips of the
hideous countenance.

Next instant, glancing round, my eyes encountered a sight which hold me
petrified.

A long dark aperture, about the height of myself, formed the mouth, and
set therein were broad sharp teeth of rusted sword-blades, which
overlapping, prevented entrance to the cavernous throat.  Twenty blades
were set in the jaw above and twenty below, forming an impassable
barrier of razor-edged spikes.  Our only means of escape being cut off
by the drifting of the canoe, one fact alone remained to give us
courage.  From where we stood we recognised the utter impossibility of
passing through, the eyes of the colossus, yet, as together we looked at
the formidable teeth, we saw a human skeleton lying beneath them.  The
skull was beyond the row of blades, the legs towards us, proving that
some means existed by which those jaws could be opened.  The unfortunate
man had, apparently, been impaled by the descending blades while in the
act of escaping.

After brief consultation we began an active search to discover the means
by which the mouth could be opened.  What lay beyond in that dark
cavernous throat we knew not, though we strained our eyes into the
blackness, and shook the sharp steel spikes in a vain endeavour to
loosen them.  For a full hour we searched, discovering nothing to lead
us to any solution of the problem.  That freedom lay beyond we felt
convinced, by reason of the light and air from above; but whatever were
the means employed to raise the deadly jaw they were a secret.  Time
after time we examined every nook and crevice minutely, until at last,
when just about to give up our search as futile, I suddenly espied,
projecting from the river's surface, a short bar of iron, with the
appearance of a lever.

To reach it was imperative, therefore at imminent risk I let myself
carefully over the edge of the rock, slowly lowering my body until I
could grip it.  Beneath my weight it slowly gave way, and next instant
there was a loud gurgling as of water drawn in by a vacuum, followed
immediately by a harsh metallic grating sound.

"At last!"  I heard the Colonel cry in French.  "It rises!  Be careful
how you ascend."

Slowly, and with infinite care, I crept upward, but as I did so I heard
my companion's echoing footsteps receding into the gloomy throat of Sa,
yet just as I had gained the ledge forming the lips I heard a piercing
shriek, followed by a loud splash.

I shouted, but there was no answer.  My companion had stumbled into some
chasm, and I was alone.  The light of the hideous eyes had died out, and
the spot was in almost total darkness.  A dozen times I called his name,
but there was no reassuring reply.  Then, cautiously creeping forward
upon my hands and knees, fearing the worst, I soon came to the edge of
an abyss.  Some stones I gathered and flung in.  By the sound of the
splash I knew the water must be of enormous depth.  There, in that dark
uncanny spot, had Colonel Flatters, the great explorer, whose
intrepidity has been for years admired by the world, met his death.

A long time I spent alternately shouting and listening.  He might, I
reflected, have been saved by falling stunned upon some rocky ledge.
But I remembered hearing the splash.  No, he had undoubtedly been
precipitated into the water: the inky flood had closed over him.

After diligent search I found a spot where the abyss ended, and again
crept forward, still in darkness most intense.  Yet the air seemed
fresh, and I felt convinced that some outlet must lay beyond.  How long,
however, I toiled on in that narrow tunnel I know not, save that its
dampness chilled me; and when at last it widened in ascending, I found
myself a few minutes afterwards amid brushwood and brambles in the outer
world.

That night I wandered across the large fertile tract, but could not at
first recognise it.  When dawn spread, however, I saw around me a ridge
of dunes that were familiar landmarks, and recognised, to my amazement,
that I was at the oasis of Am Ohannan, on the direct caravan route that
runs across the barren Afelele to Touat.

I had travelled nearly seventy miles in a subterranean region unknown to
man, but in so doing had solved the problem that had so long puzzled
geographers, the reason why the Igharghar no longer flowed.  Besides, I
had ascertained the fate of the hapless explorer, whose loss is lamented
by both Arabs and Roumis to this day.  Within one moon of my escape I
was enabled to rejoin my people, and when news of my adventure reached
the Bureau Arabe, in Algiers, I was summoned thither to give a detailed
account of it before a small assembly of geographers and military
officers.

This I did, a report of it appearing in English in _The Geographical
Journal_ a month later.  Of late, several attempts have been made by
French expeditions to reach that uncanny realm of eternal darkness, but
without success.  Its entrance beneath the dry cataract of the Igharghar
is now merely an overflowing well, around which a little herbage has
grown, while its exit on the Am Ohannan I have unfortunately failed to
re-discover.  But since this strange adventure I have been known among
my fellow tribesmen throughout the desert as "El Waci," or The Teacher,
because I have been enabled to prove to the French the existence of an
undreamed-of region, and to elucidate the Secret of Sa.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE THREE DWARFS OF LEBO.

When my beard, now long, scraggy, and grey, was yet soft as silk upon my
youthful chin, I was sent as spy into Agadez, the mysterious City of the
Black Sultan.  At that time it was the richest, most zealously guarded,
and most strongly fortified town in the whole Sahara, and surrounded, as
it constantly was, by marauding tribes and enemies of all sorts, a
vigilant watch was kept day and night, and woe betide any stranger found
within its colossal walls, for the most fiendish of tortures that the
mind of man could devise was certain to be practised upon him, and his
body eventually given to the hungry dogs at the city gate.

In order, however, to ascertain its true strength and the number of its
garrison, I, as one of the younger and more adventurous of our clansmen,
was chosen by Tamahu, our Sheikh, to enter and bring back report to our
encampment in the rocky fastness of the Tignoutin.  Therefore I removed
my big black veil, assumed the white haik and burnouse of the
Beni-Mansour, a peaceful tribe further north, and contrived to be
captured as slave by a party of raiding Ennitra who were encamped by the
well of Tafidet, five miles from the capital of Ahir.  As I had
anticipated, I was soon taken to the City of the Black Sultan, and there
sold in the slave-market, first becoming the property of a Jew merchant,
then of Hanaza, the Grand Vizier of the Sultan.  As personal slave of
this high official I was lodged within the palace, or Fada, that
veritable city within a city, containing as it did nearly three thousand
inhabitants, over one thousand of whom were inmates of his Majesty's
harem.

In the whole of Africa, no monarch, not even the Moorish Lord of the
Land of the Maghrib, was housed so luxuriously as this half-negro
conqueror of the Asben.  When first I entered the Fada as slave, I was
struck by the magnificence of the wonderful domain.  As I crossed court
after court, each more beautiful than the one before, and each devoted
to a separate department of the royal household, the guards, the
janissaries, the treasurer, the armourers, and the eunuchs, I was amazed
at every turn by their magnificence and beauty.  At last we came to the
court of the Grand Vizier, a smaller but prettier place, with a cool,
plashing fountain tiled in blue and white, and shaded by figs, myrtles,
and trailing vines.  Beyond, I could see an arched gateway in the black
wall, before which stood two giant negro guards in bright blue, their
drawn swords flashing in the sun.  Of my conductor I enquired whither
that gate led, and was told it was impassable to all save the Sultan
himself, for it was the gate of the Courts of Love, the entrance to the
royal harem.

Through the many months during which I served my capricious master, that
closed, iron-studded door, zealously guarded night and day by its mute
janissaries with their curved scimitars, was a constant source of
mystery to me.  Often I sat in the courtyard and dreamed of the thousand
terrible dramas which that ponderous door hid from those outside that
world of love, hatred, and all the fiercest passions of the human heart.
The Sultan was fickle and capricious.  The favourite of to-day was the
discarded of to-morrow.  The bright-eyed houri who, loaded with jewels,
could twist her master round her finger one day, was the next the merest
harem slave, compelled to wash the feet of the woman who had succeeded
her in her royal master's favour.  Truly the harem of the Sultan of the
Ahir was a veritable hotbed of intrigue, where ofttimes the innocent
victims of jealousy were cast alive to the wild beasts, or compelled to
partake of the Cup of Death--coffee wherein chopped hair had been
placed--a draught that was inevitably fatal.

One brilliant night, when the silver moonbeams whitened the court
wherein I lived, I sat in the deep shadow of the oleanders, sad and
lonely.  Through six long dreary months had I been held slave by the
Grand Vizier, yet it was Allah's will that I should have no opportunity
to return to my people.  So I possessed myself in patience.  Through
those months mine eyes and ears had been ever on the alert, and long ago
I had completed my investigations.  Suddenly my reflections were
interrupted, for I saw standing before me a veritable vision of beauty,
a pale-faced girl in the gorgeous costume of the harem, covered with
glittering jewels, and wearing the tiny fez, pearl-embroidered zouave,
and filmy _serroual_ of the Sultan's favourites.  Not more than
eighteen, her unveiled countenance was white as any Englishwoman's; her
startled eyes were bright as the moonbeams above, and as she stood mute
and trembling before me, her bare, panting bosom, half-covered by her
long, dark tresses, rose and fell quickly.  I raised my eyes, and saw
that the negro guards were sleeping.  She had escaped from the Courts of
Love.

"Quick!" she gasped, terrified.  "Hide me, while there is yet time."

At her bidding I rose instantly, for her wondrous beauty held me as
beneath some witch's spell.  And at the same time I led the way to my
tiny den, a mere hole in the gigantic wall that separated the royal
harem from the outer courts of the palace.

"My name is Zohra," she explained, when she had entered; "and thine?"--
she paused for an instant, looking me straight in the face.  "Of a
verity," she added at length, "thine is Ahamadou, the spy of the dreaded
Azjar, the Veiled Men."

I started, for I had believed my secret safe.

"What knowest thou of me?"  I gasped eagerly.

"That thou hast risked all in order to report to thy people upon the
Black Sultan's strength," she answered, sinking upon my narrow divan,
throwing back her handsome head and gazing into my eyes.  "But our
interests are mutual.  I have these ten months been held captive, and
desire to escape.  By bribing one of the slaves with the Sultan's ring I
contrived to have poison placed in the kouss-kouss of the guards--"

"You have killed them!"  I cried, peering forth, and noticing the
ghastly look upon their faces as they slept at their posts.

"It was the only way," she answered, shrugging her shoulders.  "To
obtain me the Sultan's men murdered my kinsmen, and put our village to
the sword.  Mine is but a mild revenge."

"Of what tribe art thou?"  I enquired eagerly, detecting in her soft
sibillations an accent entirely unfamiliar.

"I am of the Kel-Oui, and was born at Lebo."

"At Lebo!"  I cried eagerly.  "Then thou knowest of the Three Dwarfs of
Lebo?"

"Yea.  And furthermore I have learnt their secret, a secret which shall
be thine alone in return for safe conduct to my people."

"But my clansmen are in deadly feud with thine," I observed
reflectively.

"Does that affect thy decision?" she enquired in a tone of reproach.

I reflected, and saw how utterly impossible it seemed that I myself
could escape the vigilance of these ever-watchful guards of the many
gates which lay between myself and freedom.  I glanced at the frail girl
lying upon my poor ragged divan, her girdle and throat blazing with
jewels, and felt my heart sink within me.

"Thou thinkest that because I am a woman I have no courage," she
observed, her keen eyes reading my secret thoughts.  "But hist! listen!"

I held my breath, and as I did so the footsteps of men fell upon the
flags of the courtyard.  We peered forth through the chink in the wooden
shutter, which at night closed my window, and saw two men carrying a
bier, followed by two gigantic negro eunuchs.  Upon the bier was a body
covered by a cloth; and as it passed we both caught sight of
gay-coloured silks and lace.  Below the black pall a slim white hand,
sparkling with diamonds, moved convulsively, and as the _cortege_
passed, a low stifling cry reached us--the despairing cry of a woman.

"All!" gasped my companion, dismayed.  "It is Zulaimena!  Yesterday she
ruled the harem, but this morning it was whispered into our lord's ear
that she had tried to poison him, and he condemned her and myself to be
given alive to the alligators," and she shuddered at thought of the fate
which awaited her if detected.

Conversing only in whispers, we waited till the palace was hushed in
sleep.  Then, when she had attired herself in one of my old
serving-dresses and bound her hair tightly, we crept cautiously out into
the moonlit court.  Over the horse-shoe arch of the harem-gate the
single light burned yellow and faint, while on either side the guards
crouched, their dead fingers still grasping their ponderous scimitars.
All was still, therefore quietly and swiftly we passed into the Court of
the Treasury, and thence into that of the Eunuchs.  Here we were
instantly challenged by two guards with drawn swords, clansmen of those
who lay dead at the harem-gate.

"Whence goest thou?" they both enquired with one voice, suddenly
awakened from gazing mutely at the stars, their blades flashing in the
moonbeams.

"Our master, the Grand Vizier, has had an apoplexy, and is dying!"  I
cried, uttering the first excuse that rose to my lips.  "Let not his
life be upon thine heads, for we go forth to seek the court physician
Ibrahim."

"Speed on the wings of haste!" they cried.  "May the One Merciful have
compassion upon him!"

Thus we passed onward, relating the same story at each gate, and being
accorded the same free passage, until at last we came to an enormous
steel-bound door which gave exit into the city; the gate which was
closed and barred by its ponderous bolts at the _maghrib_ hour, and
opened not until dawn save for the dark faced Sultan himself.

Here I gave exactly the same account of our intentions to the captain of
the guard.  He chanced to be a friend of my master's, and was greatly
concerned when I vividly described his critical condition.

"Let the slaves pass!"  I heard him cry a moment later, and, with a loud
creaking, the iron-studded door which had resisted centuries of siege
and battle, slowly swung back upon its creaking hinges.  At that
instant, however, a prying guard raised his lantern and held it close to
my companion's face.

"By the Prophet's beard, a woman!" he cried aloud, starting back, an
instant later.  "We are tricked!"

"Seize them!" commanded the captain, and in a moment three guards threw
themselves upon us.  Swift as thought I drew my keen _jambiyah_, my
trusty knife which I had ever carried in my sash throughout my
captivity, and plunged it into the heart of the first man who laid hands
upon me, while a second later the man who gripped Zohra, received a cut
full across his broad negro features which for ever spoilt his beauty.
Then, with a wild shout to my companion to follow, I dashed forward and
ran for my life.

Lithe and agile as a gazelle in the desert she sped on beside me along
the dark crooked silent streets.  In a few minutes the tragedy of the
harem-gate would be discovered, and every effort would be then made to
recapture the eloping favourite of the brutal Black Sultan.  We knew
well that if captured both of us would be given alive to the alligators,
a punishment too terrible to contemplate.  But together we sped on, our
pace quickened by the fiendish yells of our pursuers, until doubling in
a maze of narrow crooked streets, we succeeded at last, with Allah
directing our footsteps, in evading the howling guards and gaining one
of the four gates of the city, where the same story as we had told in
the Fada resulted in the barrier being opened for us, and a moment later
we found ourselves in the wild, barren plain, at that hour lying white
beneath the brilliant moon.  We paused not, however, to admire
picturesque effects, but strode boldly forward, eager to put as great a
distance as possible between ourselves and the stronghold of the Ahir,
ere the dawn.

Fortunately my bright-eyed fellow-fugitive was well acquainted with the
country around Agadez, therefore we were enabled to journey by
untravelled paths; but the three days we spent in that burning
inhospitable wilderness, ere we reached the well where we obtained our
first handful of dates and slaked our thirst, were among the most
terrible of any I have experienced during my many wanderings over the
sandy Saharan waste.

On that evening when the mysterious horizon was ablaze with the fiery
sunset, and I had turned my face to the Holy Ca'aba, I was dismayed to
discover that, instead of travelling towards the country of her people,
the Kel-Oui, we had struck out in an entirely different direction, but
when I mentioned it she merely replied--

"I promised, in return for thine assistance, to lead thee unto the Three
Dwarfs of Lebo, the secret of which none know save myself.  Ere three
suns have set thine eyes shall witness that which will amaze thee."

Next day we trudged still forward into a stony, almost impenetrable
country, utterly unknown to me, and two days later, having ascended a
rocky ridge, my conductress suddenly halted almost breathless, her tiny
feet sadly cut by the sharp stones notwithstanding the wrappings I had
placed about them, and pointing before her, cried--

"Behold!  The Three Dwarfs!"

Eagerly I strained mine eyes in the direction indicated, and there
discerned in the small oasis below, about an hour's march distant, three
colossal pyramids of rock of similar shape to those beside the Nile.

"Yon fertile spot was Lebo until ten years ago, when the men of the
Black Sultan came and destroyed it, and took its inhabitants as slaves,"
she explained.  "See!  From here thou canst distinguish the white walls
of the ruins gleaming amongst the palms.  We of the Kel-Oui had lived
here since the days of the Prophet, until our enemies of the Ahir
conquered us.  But let us haste forward, and I will impart unto thee the
secret I have promised."

Together we clambered down over the rocks and gained the sandy plain, at
last reaching the ruined and desolate town where the cracked
smoke-stained walls were half overgrown by tangled masses of greenery,
welcome in that sunbaked wilderness, and presently came to the base of
the first of the colossal monuments of a past and long-forgotten age.
They were built of blocks of dark grey granite, sadly chipped and worn
at the base, but higher up still well preserved, having regard to the
generations that must have arisen and passed since the hands that built
them crumbled to dust.

"By pure accident," explained the bright-faced girl when together we
halted to gaze upward, "I discovered the secret of these wonders of
Lebo.  Thou hast, by thy lion's courage, saved my life, therefore unto
thee is due the greatest reward that I can offer thee.  Two years ago I
fell captive in the hands of thy people, the Azjar, over in the
Tinghert, and it was by thine own good favour I was released.  That is
why I recognised thee in the palace of Agadez.  Now once again I owe my
freedom unto thee; therefore, in order that the months thou hast spent
in Agadez shall not be wholly wasted, I will reveal unto thee the secret
which I have always withheld from mine own people."

Then, taking my hand, she quickly walked along the base of the giant
structure until she came to the corner facing the direction of the
sunrise; then, counting her footsteps, she proceeded with care, stopping
at last beneath the sloping wall, and examining the ground.  At her feet
was a small slab, hidden by the red sand of the desert, which she
removed, drawing from beneath it a roll of untanned leopard-hide.  This
she unwrapped carefully, displaying to my gaze a worn and tattered
parchment, once emblazoned in blue and gold, but now sadly faded and
half illegible.

I examined it eagerly, and found it written in puzzling hieroglyphics,
such as I had never before seen.

"Our marabout Ahman, who was well versed in the language of the
ancients, deciphered this for me only a few hours before his death.  It
is the testimony of the great Lebo, king of all the lands from the
southern shore of Lake Tsad to the Congo, and founder of the Kel-Oui
nation, now, alas! so sadly fallen from their high estate.  The
parchment states plainly that Lebo, having conquered and despoiled the
Ethiopians in the last year of his reign, gathered together all the
treasure and brought it hither to this spot, which bore his name, in
that day a gigantic walled city larger by far than Agadez."

I glanced around upon the few miserable ruins of mud-built houses, and
saw beyond them large mounds which, in themselves, indicated that the
foundations of an important centre of a forgotten civilisation lay
buried beneath where we stood.

"Lebo had one son," continued Zohra, "and he had revolted against his
father; therefore the latter, feeling that his strength was failing, and
having been told by the sorcerers that on his death his great kingdom
would dwindle until his name became forgotten, resolved to build these
three pyramids, that they should remain throughout all ages as monuments
of his greatness."

"And the treasure?"  I asked.  "Is it stated what became of it?"

"Most precisely.  It is recorded here," she answered, pointing to a
half-defaced line in the mysterious screed.  "The king feared lest his
refractory son, who had endeavoured to usurp his power in the country
many marches farther south, would obtain possession of the spoils of
war, therefore he concealed them in one of yonder monuments."

"In there!"  I cried eagerly.  "Is the treasure actually still there?"

"It cannot have been removed.  The secret lies in the apex of the third
and lastly constructed monument," she explained.

"But the summit cannot be reached," I observed, glancing up at the high
point.  "It would require a ladder as long as that of Jacob's dream."

"There is a secret way," she answered quite calmly.  "If thou art
prepared for the risk, I am quite ready to accompany thee.  Let us at
once explore."

Together we approached the base of the third pyramid, and Zohra, after
careful calculation and examination, led me to a spot where there was a
hole in the stone just of sufficient size to admit a human foot.  One
might have passed it by unnoticed, for so cunningly was it devised that
it looked like a natural defect in the block of granite.

"Behold!" she cried.  "Climb, and I will follow."

The day was hot, and the sun had only just passed the noon, nevertheless
I placed my foot in the burning stone, and scrambling forward found that
she had made no mistake.  At intervals there were similar footholds,
winding, intricate, and in many instances filled with the nests of
vultures, but always ascending.  For fully half an hour we toiled upward
to the apex, until we at length reached it, perspiring and panting, and
minutely examined the single enormous block of stone that capped the
summit.  By its size I saw that no human hands could move it.  If the
treasure lay beneath, then it must remain for ever concealed.

"That parchment giveth no instructions how the spoils of war may be
reached.  We must discover that for ourselves," she observed, clambering
on, still in her ragged male attire with which I had furnished her
before leaving the stronghold of the Black Sultan.

I was clinging with one arm around the apex itself, and with the other
grasping her soft white hand.  She had looked down from the dizzy height
and shuddered, therefore I feared lest she might be seized with a sudden
giddiness.  But quickly she released herself, and proceeded to scramble
along on hands and knees, making a minute investigation of the wall.

Her sudden cry brought me quickly to her side, and my heart leapt wildly
when I discerned before me, in the wall of the pyramid, immediately at
the base of the gigantic block forming the apex, an aperture closed by a
sheet of heavy iron, coloured exactly the same as the stone and quite
indistinguishable from it.  Some minutes we spent in its examination,
beating upon it with our fists.  But the secret how to open it was an
enigma as great as that of the closed cavern in our book of the
"Thousand Nights and a Night," until suddenly, by merest chance, we both
placed our hands upon it, and it moved slightly beneath our touch.  Next
moment, with a cry, we both pushed our hardest, and slowly, ever so
slowly, it slid along, grating in the groove, which was doubtless filled
by the dust of centuries, disclosing a small, dark, low chamber roofed
by the apex-stone.

Stepping inside, our gaze eagerly wandered around the mysterious place,
and we at once saw that we had indeed discovered the treasure-house of
Lebo the Great, for around us were piled a wondrous store of gold and
gems, personal ornaments and great golden goblets and salvers.  The
aggregate value of the treasure was enormous.

"Of a verity," I cried, "this is amazing!"

"Yea," she answered, turning her fine eyes upon me.  "I give this secret
entirely and unreservedly unto thee, as reward for thine aid.  At the
going down of the sun I shall part from thee, and leave this home of my
race for ever.  In six hours' march, by the secret gorges, I can reach
our encampment, therefore trouble no further after me.  Close this
treasure-house, return to thine own people, and let them profit by thy
discovery."

"But thou, Zohra, boldest me in fascination," I cried passionately.
"Thou hast entranced me.  I love thee!"

"Love can never enter mine heart," she answered with a calm smile, but
sighing nevertheless.  "I am already the wife of thine enemy, Melaki,
ruler of the Kel-Oui."

"Wife of Melaki!"  I exclaimed amazed.  "And thou hast done this?"

"Yes," she answered in a lower voice.  "I have given thee thy promised
reward, so that thou and thy people may become rich, and some day make
brotherhood with us, and unite against the Black Sultan."

"If such is in my power it shall be done," I said, stooping and
imprinting a passionate kiss upon her soft white hand.  Then soon
afterwards we closed the mouth of the chamber and descended, finding the
task no easy one.  At the base of the "Dwarf" we parted, and never since
have mine eyes beheld her beautiful countenance.

Ere a moon had passed away, I had conducted a party of my clansmen unto
the Three Dwarfs, and we had removed the treasure of the great founder
of the Kel-Oui.  Of such quantity was it that seven camels were required
to convey it to Mourzouk, where it was sold to the Jews in the market,
and fetched a sum which greatly swelled our finances.

True to my promise, when I assumed the chieftainship of the Azjar, I
effected a friendly alliance with the Kel-Oui, and endeavoured to seek
out Zohra.

But with poignant grief I learnt that soon after her return to her
people she had been seized by a mysterious illness which proved fatal.
Undoubtedly she was poisoned, for it was her evil-faced husband, Melaki,
who told me how he had found in her possession a mysterious screed
relating to the treasure of Lebo, and how, when questioned, she had
admitted revealing its secret to the man who had rescued her from the
harem of the Black Sultan.

Melaki never knew that the man with whom she fled from Agadez, and who
loved her more devotedly than any other man had ever done, was myself.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE COMING OF ALLAH.

One breathless evening, when the golden sun had deepened to crimson, and
the shadows of the rocks were lengthening upon the white furnace of the
sands, an alarm spread through our camp that strange horsemen were
riding hard down the valley in our direction.  Marauders that we were,
fierce reprisals were of no infrequent occurrence, therefore the women
and children were quickly hurried out of the way, the camels tethered,
and each man gripped his spear, prepared to resist whatever onslaught
might be made.

Along the Wady Ereren, six days' march south of the town of Ghat, where
we were at that time encamped, we had taken the precaution to post three
men in order to give us warning in case of any projected attack by the
Kel-Alkoum, the powerful people with whom we were at feud on account of
the murder of six of our clansmen up in the north of Fezzan.  Our
outposts, however, had sent us no word, therefore the only conclusion
was that they had been surprised and killed ere they could reach us.

Hearing the news, I clambered up the bank of the ancient dried-up
watercourse, in the bed of which we had pitched our tents, and, looking
across the bend, we saw four dark specks approaching.  The eye of the
Touareg is as keen as that of the eagle, for, living as we do upon
plunder, our intelligence becomes so sharpened that we somehow
instinctively scent the approach of the stranger long before we see or
hear him.  In a few moments the men crowded about me for my opinion.
Tamahu was dead, and this occurred in the first year of my chieftainship
of the Azjar.

"Let all four be captured and brought to me," I said, my eyes still
fixed upon the approaching figures.  "If they resist, kill them."

In an instant twenty men, dark and forbidding in their black veils,
sprang into their high-backed brass-mounted saddles, and with their
gleaming spears held high, ready to strike, swept away down the valley
to meet the new-comers.

Half an hour passed anxiously.  The women in the rear chattered
excitedly, and the children, held back by them, rent the air by their
cries.  From where I stood I was unable to witness the meeting of our
men with the strangers, but suddenly the sound of firearms reached our
ears.  Then I felt assured that the mysterious horsemen must either be
the advance-guard of some valuable caravan from Algeria, or of an army
from the north.  Yet again and again the guns spoke forth, and so
rapidly that I feared for the safety of our men; but at last there was
silence deep and complete, and when I descended to the camp I found a
tumultuous excitement prevailing.  The four men, escorted by those who
had gone to arrest them, were still carrying their guns, and as they
slipped from their saddles before me, smiles broadened their unveiled
faces.

I looked at them puzzled.  It seemed as though the firing had been but
powder-play.

"Behold!  O Ahamadou, our Sheikh!  We are thy kinsmen, yet thou hast
sent to attack us!" they exclaimed.

"Our kinsmen!"  I cried, noticing that they wore the white burnouse of
the north, with their _haicks_ held around their heads by ropes of
twisted camel's hair.  They wore no veils, and a Touareg is
unrecognisable, even to his relatives, if his black _litham_ be removed.

"Yea," cried one, the elder of the four.  "Lend us a veil, and we will
show thee."

A strip of black cotton cloth was thrust into his hand by one of the
crowd, and he assumed it, twisting it deftly as only a Touareg can.
Then he turned and faced the onlookers, who with one accord laughed
immoderately, hailing him as Taghma, son of Ifafan.  Then the other
three assumed the veil, and were, one by one, recognised and received
back by their relatives.

At the conclusion of this strange ceremony, Taghma turned to me
explaining how long ago before Ramadan they had wandered afar with their
flocks to the oasis of Ezirer, and were there taken captives by the
Kel-Alkoum.

"But," he added, "we have seen with our eyes the greatest wonder on
earth.  Allah himself hath come down from heaven!"

"What?"  I cried, starting to my feet.  "Thou liest!"  The sensation
caused by the man's calm announcement was intense.

"If my tongue uttereth falsehood, O Sheikh! then let it be cut out," he
said.  "I have seen Allah, the One.  He guideth the Kel-Alkoum our
enemies, and we are of a verity forsaken."

"Ah!" wailed the old marabout Ajrab.  "Did I not warn ye that because of
your inattention to your devotions and your neglect to say the five
prayers, the One Merciful would leave you to perish and be eaten by the
vultures like the lame camel in the wilderness?"

"Loose not thy tongue's strings," I commanded quickly.  "Let us hearken
unto Taghma, who hath seen the One from above."

"Of a verity, O Ahamadou!" answered the escaped captive, "we are lost,
for Allah hath promised to render assistance unto the people he favoured
in their expeditions.  He declareth that we, of the Touaregs, are the
parasites of the earth, and that we shall be exterminated, not one being
left.  Truly he can render our spears as broken reeds, and our blades as
useless as rusted tin.  Each day at the _maghrib_ he standeth beneath a
baldachin of purple and giveth the people an assurance of his favour,
while all fall down and kiss the hem of his crimson garment so that they
may be blessed.  In Salemma, El Had, El Guerat, and the villages around
Gatron, he hath healed the sick and performed wondrous miracles, while
before our own eyes hath he caused a great tree to rise from the bare
sand--a marvel which no earthly being could accomplish."

"The latter thou hast thyself seen?"  I enquired, much interested in
this most remarkable statement.

"We have, O Sheikh!" he answered.  "The face of Allah is in the darkness
as a shining light.  Verily the promise in the _sura_ is fulfilled.  He
hath come in person to lead the Faithful unto conquest."

Alone I sat in my tent that night, smoking and pondering deeply over the
strange report.  In the camp the excitement had already risen to
fever-heat.  The aged Ajrab was addressing the crowd of men and women,
urging them to earnest supplication.  Allah had come, and would vent his
wrath upon those who had discarded His Book of Everlasting Will.  From
my divan I could hear the grey-bearded marabout's declaratory argument,
and began to wonder whether the statement that Allah had descended upon
earth had any foundation in fact.  I confess to being sceptical.  From
the wailing of the women, and the low growls of the men, I knew plainly
that the belief in the report must have a seriously disheartening effect
upon our fighting men, who, if convinced that Allah assisted their
enemies, would no doubt throw down their arms and flee.

I therefore saw that the statement of Taghma and his companions must be
investigated, and after deep thought at length resolved to assume a
disguise, and go myself to the camp of the Kel-Alkoum and see the
miracles of which the men had spoken.  To leave the Azjar without its
Sheikh at such a time would, I knew, result disastrously; therefore,
calling together the marabout and three of the most trusted headmen, I
secretly explained to them my intention, and told them to account for my
non-appearance during the next few days by spreading the report that I
was seized by a slight fever and confined to my tent.

Then just before the waning of the moon, the dress that Taghma had worn
was brought to me, and, assuming it, I mounted a fleet horse and set
forth alone down the winding wady.

With the facts I had elicited from the four fugitives vivid within my
mind, I journeyed forward, arriving ten days later in the little
stone-built town of Zemnou, a cluster of white houses surrounding its
small mosque capped by three thin whitewashed minarets.  Wearing as I
did the correct garb of a tribesman of the Kel-Alkoum, my presence was
unnoticed, and I was therefore enabled to stroll about the market-places
and make my observations while pretending to bargain for goods I had no
intention of purchasing.

At sunset each day, when the voice of the _mueddin_ sounded from the
minaret, "Allah is great!"  I crossed to the mosque, washed my feet in
the marble basin and entered, in the expectation of seeing the Ruler of
Earth, but was each day disappointed.  At that hour the surrounding
terraces were peopled with white forms, which stood out against the
summits of the palm-trees and the green of the baobab.  Their backs were
turned to the purple splendours of the dying light, for their faces
looked towards the already darkened east, lighted for us by that eternal
light in which Mecca is to be found.  At length, after a week had
elapsed, a great and excited crowd gathered in the market, and, when I
enquired its reason, I learned that Allah was coming.

For an hour we waited in the full glare of the noon-day sun, until
suddenly a shout of joy arose, and all fell upon their knees in
adoration.  Then, lifting my eyes, I witnessed for the first time the
One Merciful in the flesh.  Truly Taghma had not lied.  He was of
middle-age, a trifle pale, but his dark eyes had a kindly, sympathetic
look, and his countenance was open and bright, a face such as is never
seen on earth.  In his robe of blood-red he stood with his head
uncovered, and while the people about him kissed his feet and the hem of
his robe, he stretched forth both hands over them, pronouncing upon them
his blessing and an assurance of his favour.

One fact, however, struck me as curious.  Abreha, the Sheikh, stood
aloof, with arms folded, watching the scene from beneath his shaggy
brows.  The glare in his keen eye told me that within his heart he
concealed a fierce jealousy that his power had thus been eclipsed.

The people, frantic with joy at the words of the Giver of all Good
Gifts, cried aloud their praises, repeating their _fatihat_, and making
open declaration of their belief.  The scene was the strangest and most
exciting that ever I had witnessed, for, carried away by their
enthusiasm, many fell fainting, and were trampled upon by the crowd
eagerly struggling to press Allah's garment to their lips, and obtain
the remission of all past sins.

Suddenly the tall, erect, imposing figure in blood-red, truly kingly,
raised both arms above his head, and, in a clear voice that echoed
across the market above the clamours of the wild perspiring crowd,
commanded silence.  In an instant one could have heard a cricket chirp.
Every mouth was open in breathless eagerness, for Allah was about to
speak to them, his chosen, with his own lips.

"Give ear, O my well-beloved!" he cried, with an accent unfamiliar.
"Among ye have I come because ye have repeated your _suras_ faithfully,
and have believed in my Prophet.  Of a verity will I bless you with
abundant blessings, and the sun of my favour shall shine upon you so
that your enemies may wither before the dazzling light shed by your
faces.  You, the Kel-Alkoum, my beloved, shall sweep from the face of
the earth the wicked who have oppressed you, and their entrails will be
burned by the all-consuming fire of my vengeance.  The Touaregs, those
who hide their faces in veils because of the hideousness of their
iniquities, shalt thou put to the sword, and they shall be consigned to
the place Al-Hawiyat, where their food shall be offal, and melting pitch
shall slake their thirst.  I am thy leader, henceforward fear not, for
thou hast a stronger hand than all nations of the earth, and at my will
all who oppose thee shall be routed and die.  The Kel-Alkoum, my chosen,
shall rule the world."

He paused, and glanced round with an eye keen as a falcon's, while loud
praises arose from every hoarse throat around.

"We will rout the Azjar from their mountain fastnesses!" they cried.
"We are ready at any moment to do thy bidding, and sweep away the
wicked.  Thou wilt give strength to our arms that none can resist.  Be
praised, O King of earth and heaven!  Be praised, O One!"

A smile of satisfaction played about the lips of the red-robed visitant
from the unknown; but, without further word, he turned and stalked
slowly to the mosque, the excited crowd closing in behind him, rending
the air with their adulatory cries.

Throughout many days I remained in Zemnou.  Once I saw the mysterious
visitant pass in the darkness, and truly his luminous face shone like a
lamp.  One morning, however, while wandering among the palms outside the
town, I met the Ruler of Earth walking alone, his head sunk upon his
breast in pensive attitude.  With his red cloak trailing heedlessly in
the dust, he presented a decidedly dejected appearance.  My footsteps
startled him, and, raising his head quickly, he walked erect with his
usual gait, apparently being desirous of concealing his melancholy.

"Praise!"  I exclaimed, stopping, and bowing low before him.  "If thou
art, indeed, Allah, thou alone knowest the innermost thoughts of thy
servant."

He paused, and stretched both his white tapering hands above my bowed
head.

"Thy thoughts are of me," he answered.  "Thou desirest speech with me
alone.  Speak."

So calmly he looked upon me that I was convinced that such a kindly,
sympathetic face, with its expression of a sweet sadness, could not be
human.  Besides, had he not healed the sick, and caused trees to grow
from out the desert sand?  Yet a spirit of scepticism possessed me, and,
scarcely knowing what words I uttered, I said--

"If thou art the mighty and wise One thou canst tell me my name, and
whence I have come."

In an instant his brows knit, and his eyes flashed angrily.

"Thou art an unbeliever, and one of my accursed.  Thou, who darest to
question my immutability and omnipotence, go dwell with Eblis, Ruler of
Darkness, where maleficient spirits shall haunt thee, and the tortures
of the flesh shall rend thee for ever.  Begone!"

And drawing his robe about his shoulders, he moved forward with truly
imperial gait.

At that moment I saw through the trees a pious fanatical crowd
approaching.  The news had evidently spread that the All-merciful was
walking in the outskirts of the town, and they had come forth to touch
his garments and receive his blessing.  But when he saw them he halted,
and, pointing towards me, cried--

"Lo!  Yonder is one of the sons of Eblis, a scoffer and unbeliever.  Let
his body be given to the dogs."

Ere I could realise that the kind-faced man had condemned me to death,
the mob, with loud yells of execration, rushed forward to seize me, and
hurry me to an ignominious end.  But in an instant I dashed in among the
trees, and fled for life so quickly that I at length managed to
out-distance my irate pursuers, and till evening I slept beneath the
shadow of a rock.  Then, determined to speak again with the Almighty
One, I returned into the town, taking the precaution to purchase new
garments to prevent recognition.

The All-powerful had aroused further suspicion within me by his
embarrassment when I had questioned him, and by his anxiety that I
should be killed ere I could utter denunciation.  Without doubt, he
possessed a mixture of firmness and independence which raised him above
all prejudices, for he expressed his opinions to Abreha, the Sheikh,
with the same frankness he employed towards the humblest tribesman;
nevertheless, when we had spoken, I had detected a dramatic pose and an
artificiality of manner which puzzled me.  Again, at the moment when I
had addressed him, I had noticed, walking at some little distance behind
him, a young girl of extreme beauty.  She was unveiled, in the manner of
the Kel-Alkoum, but somehow her face struck me as familiar, and I
desired to again behold her.  With that object I resumed my former
quarters in the market-place, and kept watchful vigil.  Next morning she
came.  Her face was paler than before, and it wore an anxious, terrified
expression.  I inquired who she was, and was told that to all she was a
mystery.  Whence she came no man knew, but Allah had declared her to be
one of his chosen, hence none molested her, or made enquiry.

I smiled, for I had recognised her.  She was Mezouda, daughter of one of
our fighting men, who had been long ago captured by the Kel-Oui, and
whose whereabouts had remained unknown.

An hour later I contrived to have secret speech with her.  At first she
did not recognise me, but when I told her who I was, then she at once
expressed her eagerness to return to her own people.

"Thou shalt return to our camp only on one condition, namely, that thou
wilt induce that man known as Allah to accompany thee," I answered.  "He
is thy friend."

"But the Kel-Alkoum are his well-beloved," she said, using the same
expression he so often used.

"He must forsake them," I observed, explaining to her the baneful effect
the report had exercised upon our men of the Azjar.

But she shook her head.  "No, he will not leave the Kel-Alkoum.  He is
already their ruler," she said.  "The power of Abreha is now fast
waning."

"Take me to him," I commanded.

"But his house is a holy place.  None dare enter on penalty of being
cast out for ever."

"I will risk it," I answered.  "Guide thither my footsteps."

Reluctantly she led me through a number of narrow crooked streets, until
she paused before a small mud-built hut, and pointed to it.

Without ceremony I pushed open its closed door, and, entering, discerned
the great King, half-dressed, standing before a scrap of broken mirror
combing his beard.  His face and neck were brown, so were his hands, but
his breast and arms were white!  The sympathetic countenance and
tapering fingers were ingeniously stained to match the colour of the men
of the desert, but the remainder of his body showed him to be a
European.

"How darest thou thus disturb my privacy, accursed son of Eblis?" he
cried in anger, evidently recognising me as the one whom he had
condemned to death on the previous day.

"I have entered in order to denounce thy profane chicanery," I answered
boldly.  "Thou, the self-styled Allah, art an infidel, an impostor, and
a fraud!"

He started at my fierce declaration, for the first time recollecting
that parts of his chest, arms, and legs were exposed to my gaze.  His
face blanched beneath its artificial colouring, and his white lips
trembled.

"Well!" he gasped, "and if thou hast discovered my secret--what then?"

"The people of the Kel-Alkoum shall be made aware of how completely they
have been tricked," I answered, taking up a small pot, which I smelt,
and found contained a preparation of phosphorous.  This he had evidently
used to cause his face to be luminous in the darkness.

"No!" he cried, "anything but that.  I would rather kill myself outright
than face the ferocity of these people."

"Then truthfully answer my questions," I said firmly, when I had
explained to him who I was, and the sensation caused in our camp by the
report of his assistance to our enemies.  "Whence comest thou?"

"I come from the land of the Roumis over the great black water," he
answered, suddenly casting off all cant and concealment.  "My name is
Mostyn Day, and I am an English mining prospector.  Long ago, while in
my own country, I read of the ease with which the fanatical Arabs may be
imposed upon by fearless and unscrupulous men who desire to obtain power
over them; and, truth to tell, hearing that great mineral wealth existed
in the country of the Kel-Alkoum, and knowing Arabic well, I conceived a
plan to come here, announce myself as Allah, and obtain over the tribe
such complete authority and control that I should either become their
Sheikh or obtain a concession to exploit all the mines in this rich
region.  My object was very nearly accomplished.  To-morrow there is
arranged a great rising of the people against Abreha, with the object of
declaring me their ruler, but,"--and he paused sighing--"your discovery
has put an end to it all."

"But what of the miracles you have worked in various villages?"

"Mere conjuring tricks and sleight-of-hand," he laughed.  "Once, long
ago, I was connected with an English travelling show, therefore I am
familiar with most stage tricks.  But now I have confessed to you, you
will not expose me.  Remember, unless you allow me to fly, these people
will assuredly take my life."

"I will preserve silence on one condition only," I replied.  "That
to-night, an hour after sundown, you leave with me, journey to my
encampment, and there exhibit to my people your painted face and arms,
explaining to them the reason of your imposture, and showing them how
you contrived to render your countenance luminous at night."

At first he demurred, but finding me inexorable he at length submitted,
and asked to be allowed to take Mezouda with him.

"She is my wife," he explained.  "I married her in Algiers two years
ago, and by her aid alone have I been enabled to approach so nearly the
realisation of the plot I had conceived."

"It was truly an ingenious one," I laughed.  "Yes, Mezouda shall go with
thee.  Remain in silence of thine intentions, and meet me among the
palms outside the town an hour after sundown."

At first I feared that the intrepid Englishman, who had so nearly been
the cause of a great Jehad through the whole Sahara, would endeavour to
escape, but both he and his pretty and adventurous wife kept the
appointment, and after some days we eventually arrived at our
encampment.

The excitement caused by our appearance was unbounded.  Taghma and his
companions at once recognised the Englishman in his blood-red robe as
the Allah of the Kel-Alkoum, and all fell on their knees, crying aloud
in adoration.

But their supplications were quickly cut short by the few loud words of
authority I uttered, and when half an hour later the reckless adventurer
exhibited his stained face and hands, and then entertained them by
showing the simple means by which he accomplished his tricks of magic,
the air was rent by roars of laughter.  The veiled warriors of the Azjar
danced for joy, and held their sides when convinced how completely their
enemies had been tricked, and how dejected they, no doubt, were when
they knew that the Allah, in whom they trusted, had forsaken them
without a single word of farewell.

For a month the ingenious impostor remained a guest within our tents;
then he departed for the north, taking his wife Mezouda with him.  But
since that day the Kel-Alkoum, believing themselves the forgotten of
Allah, have ever been a cowed and peaceful nation.

CHAPTER SIX.

THE EVIL OF THE THOUSAND EYES.

The camp fire was dying in the gloomy hour before the dawn.  In the
Great Desert the light comes early from the far-off Holy City, golden as
the Prophet's glory, to light our footsteps in those trackless waterless
wastes which are shunned by man and forgotten by Allah.  My tribesmen of
the Azjar, still wrapped in their black veils, were sleeping soundly
prior to the long march of the coming day, and all was quiet save the
howling of a desert fox, and the shuffling tread of the sentries as they
traversed the camp from end to end, silent and weird in their long black
burnouses and veils.  Alone, I was sitting gazing into the dying embers,
deep in thought.  I had been unable to sleep, for a strange premonition
of danger oppressed me.  We were in the country of the Taitok, a tribe
of pure Arabs, fierce in battle, who when united with the Kel-Rhela,
their neighbours, were among our most formidable opponents.  The Sheikhs
of both tribes had made treaty with the French, and placed their country
beneath the protection of the tricolour of the Infidels, therefore in
our expedition, against their town of Azal, we knew that we must meet
with considerable opposition.

We had exercised every caution in our advance, travelling by various
ancient dried-up watercourses known only to us, "The Breath of the
Wind," approaching in secret the town we intended to loot and burn as a
reprisal for an attack made upon us a month before.  But the report of a
spy, who had gone forward to Azal, was exceedingly discouraging.  The
French had occupied the Kasbah, the red-burnoused Spahis were swaggering
about the streets and market-places, while the tricolour floated over
the city gate, and the fierce fighting men of the Taitok were now
fearless of any invader.  It was this report which caused me
considerable uneasiness, and I was calmly reflecting whether to turn off
to the east into the barren Ahaggar, or to push forward and measure our
strength with our enemies, the Infidels, when suddenly my eyes,
sharpened by a lifetime of desert wandering, detected a dark crouching
figure moving in the gloom at a little distance from me.  In an instant
I snatched up my rifle and covered it.  Unconscious of how near death
was, the mysterious stranger still moved slowly across, lying upon his
stomach and dragging himself along the sand in the direction of my tent.
As I looked, a slight flash caught my eye.  It was the gleam of the
flickering flame upon burnished steel.  The man held a knife, and at the
door of my tent raised himself before entering, then disappeared within.

Quick as thought I jumped up, drew my keen double-edged _jambiyah_ from
my girdle, and noiselessly sped towards my tent, drawing aside the flap,
and dashing in to capture the intruder.

The dark figure was bending over a portfolio wherein I keep certain
writings belonging to the tribe, the compacts of friends and the threats
of foes.

"Thou art my prisoner!"  I cried fiercely, halting inside, casting aside
my knife and raising my rifle.

The figure turned quickly with a slight scream, and by the feeble light
of my hanging-lamp I was amazed to detect the features of a woman,
young, beautiful, with a face almost as white as those of the Roumi
women who sit at cafes in Algiers.

"Mercy, O Ahamadou!" she implored, next second casting herself upon her
knees before me.  "True, I have fallen prisoner into thine hands, but
the Book of Everlasting Will declares that thou shalt neither hold in
slavery nor kill those who art thy friends.  I crave thy mercy, for
indeed I am thy friend."

"Yet thou seekest my life with that knife in thine hand!"  I cried in
anger.  "Whence comest thou?"  I demanded, for her Arabic was a dialect
entirely strange to me.

"From a country afar--a region which no man knoweth," she answered.

"The country of the Azjar is the whole of the Great Desert," I answered,
with pride.  "Every rock and every wady is known unto them."

"Not every wady," she replied, smiling mysteriously.  "They know not the
Land of Akkar, nor the City of the Golden Tombs."

"The Land of Akkar!"  I gasped, for Akkar was a region which only
existed in the legendary lore of the Bedouins, and was supposed to be a
fabulous country, wherein lived a mysterious race of white people, and
where was concealed the enormous treasure captured during the Mussulman
Conquest.  "Knowest thou actually the position of the wondrous Land of
Akkar?"

"It is my home," she answered in soft sibillation, as stretching forth
my hand I motioned her to rise.  I saw that her beauty and grace were
perfect.  She wore no veil, but her dark robe was dusty and stained by
long travel, while her striking beauty was enhanced by a string of cut
emeralds of great size and lustre across her brow, in place of the
sequins with which our women decorate themselves.  She wore no other
jewels, save a single diamond upon the index-finger of the right hand, a
stone of wondrous size and brilliancy.  It seemed to gleam like some
monster eye as she sank upon the divan near, a slight sigh of fatigue
escaping her.

"And thy name?"  I enquired.

"Nara, daughter of Kiagor," she answered.  "And thou art the great
Ahamadou, whom all men fear from Lake Tsad, even unto the confines of
Algeria, the leader of the dreaded Breath of the Wind.  In our secret
land reports of thy prowess and ferocity in the fight, of thy leniency
towards the women and children of thine enemies, have already reached
us, therefore I travelled alone to seek thee."

And she looked up into my face, her full red lips parted in a smile.

"Why?"  I enquired, puzzled.

"Because I crave the protection of thine host of black-veiled warriors,"
she answered.  "Our land of Akkar is threatened by an invasion of the
Infidel English, who have sent two spies northward from the Niger.  May
Allah burn their vitals!  They succeeded in penetrating into our
mountain fastness, and were captured by our scouts.  One was killed, but
the other escaped.  He has, undoubtedly, gone back to his own people;
and they will advance upon us, for they are a nation the most powerful
and most fearless in all the world."

"Of a verity thy lips utter truth," I observed, "for we once fought in
the Dervish ranks against the English on the Nile bank, and were cut
down like sun-dried grass before the scythe.  But who hath sent thee as
messenger to me?"

"I come on my own behalf," she responded.  "I am ruler of the Akkar."

It was strange, sitting there in conversation with the ruler of a
mysterious region, the existence of which every Arab in the Soudan and
the Sahara firmly believed, yet no man had ever set foot in the
legendary country, the fabulous wealth and strange sights of which were
related by every story-teller from Khartoum even unto Timbuktu.  And yet
Nara, the Queen of Akkar, was a guest within my camp, and had fallen
upon her knees before me in supplication.  Ambition was fired within me
to visit her wondrous land of the silent dead, and I announced my
readiness to effect a treaty with her, first accompanying her alone to
see the wonders of her mystic realm.  As I spoke, however, a curious
change appeared to come over her.  Her face flushed slightly, her eyes
gleamed with a fiery glance, and there was a hardness about her mouth,
which, for one brief moment, caused me suspicion.

"Thou art welcome, O Ahamadou!" she answered, smiling bewitchingly, next
instant.  "We will start even now, if thou wilt, for no time must be
lost ere thine armed men unite with the guards of my kingdom to resist
the accursed English, that white-faced tribe whom Eblis hath marked as
his own.  Let us speed on the wings of haste, and within a week thou
mayest be back here within thine own camp."

And she rose in readiness to go forth.

"My _meheri_ is tethered behind yon rock," she continued, pointing out
beyond the camp where a great dark rock loomed forth against the
fast-clearing sky.  "Join me there, and I will guide thy footsteps unto
my City of the Golden Tombs."

Whilst she went forth secretly I called Malela, son of Tamahu, and
imparted to him the circumstances, telling him of my intention to go
secretly to Akkar, and giving him instructions how to preserve from the
tribe the fact that I was absent.  Malela was one of the fiercest of
desert-pirates, as valiant a man as ever drew a _jambiyah_ against an
enemy; but when I mentioned my intended visit to the silent legendary
land, the wealth and terrors of which he had heard hundreds of times
from the lips of the story-tellers and marabouts, his face paled beneath
its bronze.

"May the One of Praise envelope thee with the cloak of His protection,"
he ejaculated with heartfelt fervency.  "Have we not heard of the awful
tortures of those in the mute land--the mysterious region which the
Moors have declared to be the veritable dwelling-place of Eblis, the
region inhabited by those who have served the Devil and refused both the
blessings of Allah and the intercessions of his Prophet?"

"Are not the Azjar without fear, and is not Ahamadou their leader?"  I
asked proudly, reflecting upon Nara's marvellous beauty, and feeling an
intense curiosity to visit the country wherein no man had hitherto set
foot.  Again, had not the Queen of Akkar singled out the Veiled Men of
the Azjar as her allies against the eaters of unclean meat, the Infidels
whose bodies Allah will burn with his all-consuming fire.

Again Malela uttered a prayer to the One, as he stood facing the Holy
Ca'aba, and I, too, murmured a _sura_ as I thrust some cartridges into
my pouch, drew tighter my belt with its amulets sewn within, and buckled
on my sword with the wondrous jewel in the hilt--the mark of
chieftainship--for I was to be guest of the Queen of an unknown land.

Then, with a whispered farewell to Tamahu's son, I stole forth, treading
softly among my sleeping tribesmen, and carefully avoiding the sentries
until I came to my own swift camel, I mounted it, and a few minutes
later joined my handsome guide.  She had already mounted, and had
twisted a white haick about her face until only her eyes and the row of
emeralds across her brow remained visible.

It is needless to recount the long breathless days we spent together in
journeying westward, resting by day and travelling ever in the track of
the blood-red afterglow, until we came upon a range of giant
snow-crested mountains, as great as the monster Atlas that loom as a
barrier between ourselves and the so-called civilisation of the Franks.

"Yonder," she said, pointing to them, when first their grandeur burst
upon our view in the pale rose of dawn.  "Yonder is our land which none
can enter, save those who know the secret way.  There are but two
entrances--one here and the other far south, the way through which the
English have unfortunately discovered."

"Then on all sides but one thy kingdom is impregnable," I observed,
gazing with amazement at the serrated barrier, which seemed to rise
until it reached the misty cloud-land.

"On all but one," she answered.  "Those who know not the secret must
meet with death, because of the dangers by which Akkar is surrounded as
safeguards against her enemies."

Throughout two days we travelled, slowly approaching the snowy range,
and one night we halted beside a narrow lake, beyond which was
practically an impassable barrier of rugged cliffs and towering
mountains.  The night was moonless, and as I laid down to sleep, only
the rippling of the water lapping the pebbles broke the appalling
stillness.  At last, however, I dropped off into a heavy slumber, and
was only awakened by a strange roar in my ears like the thunder of a
cataract.

I put forth my hand and tried to open my eyes, but both efforts were
alike useless.  To my amazement I found my hands secured behind me, and
my eyes blindfolded.

Then, in an instant, it occurred to me that I had been entrapped.  I
struggled and fought to free myself, for the air was hot and stifling,
and I felt myself being asphyxiated with a deadening roar in my ears,
and a close indescribable odour in my nostrils.  In my attempt to tear
the irritating bandage from my eyes, my head came suddenly into contact
with something soft.  I placed my cheek against it, and found to my
amazement that I was lying on some kind of silken divan, my head
supported by an embroidered cushion of the kind usual in our harems.
But the odour about me was not the intoxicating fragrance of burning
pastilles, but a damp mouldy smell, as of a chamber long closed.

How long my mental torture and sense of utter helplessness continued I
know not.  All I recollect is that, of a sudden, the air seemed fresher
and cooler, the thunder of the waters died away instantly, and the smell
of the charnel-house gave place to a delicate perfume of fresh flowers.
There was a genial warmth upon my cheeks, and I awakened to the fact
that the sun was shining upon me, when I felt a hand unloosen the
bandage tied behind my head, and heard the voice of Nara say--

"Lo, the danger is past.  Thou art in Akkar," and she drew away the
piece of black folded silk that had held me without vision.

In abject amazement I looked around stupefied.  We were together in a
kind of boat shaped like an inverted funnel, which opened only at the
top and could be closed at will by a complicated arrangement of levers
and wire ropes, a subaquatic vessel fitted with comfortable lounges,
having a lighted lamp hanging in the centre.  Everything--seats, tables,
and all the fittings--swung in rings, therefore, whichever way the boat
rolled, even though it might turn complete somersaults, those riding in
it could remain seated without inconvenience.  On looking back I saw
that the narrow stream we were navigating was fed by a mighty torrent
that rushed from the mountain-side, a roaring, boiling flood which sent
up a great column of spray, reflecting in the sunlight all the colours
of the spectrum; and I also observed that we had entered the Land of
Akkar by means of that strangely-shaped boat of bolted iron plates as
strong as the war-ships of the Infidels, and were now in a deep and
fertile valley, having descended from the lake by an unknown
subterranean watercourse through the very heart of the giant mountain.

I gazed about me in blank amazement, for even as my conductress spoke,
she deftly stretched forth a pole and arrested the progress of the boat
at a flight of well-worn steps, while above, my wondering eyes fell upon
the great white facade of a palace with an enormous gilded dome.

"Yonder is my dwelling-place," she explained with a wave of the hand,
and as we stepped upon the bank a crowd of fierce-looking armed warriors
appeared, raising their spears high in salutation.

"This is Ahamadou," she explained, "the dreaded Sheikh of the Azjar, who
hath come to make brotherhood with us.  He is guest of Nara, thy Ruler."

"Welcome, O Ahamadou!" they cried, with one voice.  "Of a verity thou
art the lion of the desert, for the leader of the Breath of the Wind
knoweth not fear."

"I am thy friend, O friends," I answered, as by Nara's side I strode
onward to the wondrous palace, so magnificent, yet of such delicate
architecture that one marvelled how human hands could have fashioned it.
The country I had entered was red with flowers and green with many
leaves; a fruitful, peaceful region, the spires and domes of the great
City of the Golden Tombs rising in the distance far down the valley,
white and clear-cut as cameos against the liquid gold of the sunset.

Together we ascended the long flight of marble steps which led to the
great colonnade, and gave entrance to a palace of similar design to
those of the ancient palaces of Egypt in those forgotten days long
before the Prophet.  As our feet touched the last step, the air was rent
by a fanfare of a hundred trumpets, causing the valley to re-echo.  Then
a file of armed men, headed by the blood-red banner of Akkar, lined our
route, bowing low as we passed on into a hall, high vaulted and of
enormous proportions, in the centre of which stood a wonderful throne of
gold, covered with hundreds upon hundreds of eyes of every variety and
size, wrought in gems to imitate those of human beings and of animals.
As I gazed upon it I suddenly recollected what I had heard from the
story-tellers about this wondrous seat of Akkar's Queen.  It was the
ancient throne whereon, for nearly two thousand years, the rulers of the
City of the Golden Tombs had sat, and was known in legendary lore as the
Throne of the Thousand Eyes, each eye recording a battle, and being
formed of the greatest gem taken in the loot on that occasion.  As I
approached I saw that some were of diamonds, others of rubies, of
emeralds, of jade, of jacinth, of jasper, of pearl, and of sapphires,
each perfectly formed, but some kindly-looking, while on others the
expression was that of terror, of hatred, or of agony, truly the
strangest and weirdest seat of royalty in all the world.

Around me the excitement rose to fever-heat as the people assembled, and
Nara seated herself upon the throne after casting aside the
travel-stained haick she had worn on the journey.  I saw everywhere
evidences of unbounded riches.  The silken robes of the courtiers were
sewn with jewels, and as their queen sank among her soft cushions, and
her women put upon her necklaces and anklets of enormous worth, the
great chamber became filled with the clank of arms and the murmur of
many voices, while I was closely scrutinised and my appearance commented
upon.  Suddenly, the great Queen rose, lifting her arms, and with an
expression of uncontrollable anger upon her white face, said--

"Lo, my people, hear this my word!  I have travelled afar into the
country of our enemies, and have brought hither the person of Ahamadou,
their chief."

"I am not thine enemy, O Queen!"  I hastened to assure her.  "Thine
ally, if thou wilt."

"I have brought hither this man," she cried, "I have brought him hither
in fulfilment of my oath in order that punishment shall be meted out to
him."

"Punishment!"  I gasped, wondering if I had taken leave of my senses.

"Remember, that this man is Ahamadou, chief of the pirates, who have
captured so many of our caravans, and who slew my son Kourra, heir to
this my throne, six moons ago!" she cried, in a paroxysm of rage,
lifting her thin bare arms, her face growing hideous in her fearful
ebullition of anger.  I saw that I had fallen helplessly into the hands
of my enemies, and bit my lip without uttering a single word.  To escape
from that unexplored rock-bound kingdom was hopeless.  I could only show
them that fear dwelleth not in the heart of an Azjar, even though
thousands lifted their hands against him.

"I have," she cried, "sought out this man, alone and unaided, according
to the oath I took before the sacred scarabaeus upon this the Throne of
the Thousand Eyes, and conducted him hither in order that ye may pass
judgment upon him.  Speak, say what torture shall he undergo?"

In an instant the air was rent by loud cries of--

"Let the scarabaeus devour him!  Let him witness the torture of the
spies, and afterwards let the same be applied to him!  Let him die the
most terrible of all deaths; let the sacred beetle crush him beneath its
fangs!"

A dozen men, aged, white-robed, with beards so long that some almost
swept the ground, whom I judged were priests, held brief consultation:
then, amid the uproar, they seized me, wrenched from me my arms, and led
me away ere I could raise my voice to charge their dreaded ruler with
treachery.  Followed by the jeering, excited multitude, they conducted
me along the wide level road to the mysterious city, upon the high gates
of which were mounted strong guards, with breast-plates whereon the
image of the sacred beetle was worked in crimson, and through great
streets and squares until we came to a huge mosquelike structure, the
three golden domes of which I had noticed glittering afar as the dying
rays of the sunset slanted upon them.

The dimly-lit interior was magnificent, but as they dragged me forward,
I saw placed beneath the central dome a colossal figure of the sacred
Scarabaeus a hundred feet in height, and two hundred feet square, plated
over with gold.  From the two hideous eyes shone lines of white light
like the rays of the searchlights of the Infidels, while, by some
mechanical contrivance, the wide mouth now and then opened and closed,
as though the monstrous emblem of the eternal were eager to devour those
who worshipped before it.

The bearded priests who held me threw themselves upon their knees before
it in adoration, uttering a low kind of chant, while almost at the same
instant a quivering terrified man, haggard, thin, and bearing signs of
long imprisonment, was dragged forth from a kind of cell in the colossal
walls, and made to bend upon his knees upon a grey circular stone
immediately before the monster Throat of Death.

"No! no!" he shrieked in horror.  "Kill me by the sword!  Let my body be
given to the alligators--anything--but spare me the torture of the
Beetle!  I am innocent!  It is but Nara's love of bloodshed and torture
of the flesh that hath caused her to condemn me.  May the curse of the
Beetle be ever upon her!"

Ere he could utter another word six black slaves, veritable giants in
stature, seized the unfortunate wretch, and as the mouth of the monster
again opened, they flung him headlong into it.

Next second the cruel terrible mouth closed, and the shrieks and
crushing of bones told how terrible was the torture of the human victim
within its insatiable maw.

The sight caused me to shudder.  To this frightful ignominious death had
this fair-faced, soft-spoken woman condemned me.

Again the enormous golden jaws opened, and again, as they closed, the
victim's piercing shrieks told that his agony was renewed, and that
death did not come quickly within that weird colossal figure of the
insect, once held sacred from the shores of the Red Sea unto the great
black ocean.  In this, the last place in all the world where its worship
still remained, the people were the most cruel and relentless of any in
our great dark continent, Africa.  A dozen times the mouth opened and
closed, and each occasion the cries of the agonised man were frightful
to hear, until at last they died away, and as they did so the light also
died from the monster's eyes.

Soon, however, another thin, cringing man, starved almost to a skeleton,
was brought forth, and with similar scant ceremony was cast into the
colossal jaws, whereupon the light in the giant eyes grew brilliant
again, and the shrieks for release, as the mouth reopened, were only
answered by the loud jeers of the assembled multitude, by this time
increased until every part of the magnificent building was crowded to
suffocation, while at that instant Nara, still upon the Throne of the
Thousand Eyes, was dragged in by a crowd of nearly a thousand persons.
Twelve black slaves slowly fanned her as she sat, her chin resting upon
her hand, watching in silence.

One after another were victims brought forth and hurled to the horrible
monster, to be slowly cut to pieces by the myriad gleaming knives and
fine-edged saws set within those terrible jaws, until at last some one
in the crowd cried out with a loud voice--

"Let the pirate Ahamadou die!  His men killed our Prince, the valiant
Kourra, therefore no mercy shall be shown the Veiled Man.  Let him be
given to the Sacred Beetle!"

In an instant the cry was taken up on every hand.  "Let him die!" they
shouted wildly.  "Let us witness his body being cut to ribbons!"

The priests hesitated, while in that perilous moment I repeated a
_sura_, and heeded not these Infidel worshippers of insects and
idolators of golden effigies.

But at a sign from Nara, the relentless figure in white seated upon her
wondrous Throne of the Thousand Eyes, they seized me, forced me to kneel
upon the circular stone, and then, as those hideous jaws opened with a
swift movement, they lifted me and cast me in.

For an instant my head reeled, and all breath left me, for I knew that a
fearful agonising death was nigh; but as Allah willed it, I alighted
upon my feet, and finding in the darkness that the floor sloped down, I
started running with all my might, gashing myself upon the knives, set
upright like teeth, but nevertheless speedily forward, heedless of the
pain.  Slowly and surely the walls of that strange torture-chamber
closed about me with a creaking and groaning horrible to hear, until I
found myself squeezed tightly with irresistible force on every side.  I
held my breath, for upon my chest was a great weight, and I knew that
next instant my frame must be crushed to pulp.

Slowly, however, almost imperceptibly, the frightful pressure upon my
body began to relax, and ere I realised the welcome truth, I found
myself able to breathe again.  By dashing forward I had advanced far
down the dreaded Throat of Death to a point where the passage began to
widen, and by the freshness of the air I now felt that some outlet lay
beyond.  Therefore, without hesitation, I sped again onward, stumbling
over some soft objects on the ground, which I instinctively knew to be
the remains of my fellow victims, until a faint grey glimmer of light
showed in the distance.  The floor still sloped steeply, and by feeling
about me, I discovered that the Throat was now simply a natural burrow
in the rock.

Without loss of a second I soon gained the outlet, and peered forth,
aghast to discover that the tunnel ended abruptly in the face of a bare
precipice; and that in the valley some two hundred feet below lay a
great heap of sun-bleached bones, the remains of those who had passed
through the Throat of Death.  Undoubtedly, when the channel became
choked with the rotting remains of the victims they were cast forth to
the vultures and the wolves.

Eager to escape from the noisome place, I climbed with difficulty down
the face of the mountain, and on gaining the valley, quickly recognised,
with satisfaction, that I was actually beyond the confines of the
accursed Land of Akkar.  Truly I had encountered death as a very near
neighbour.  The high range with their snowy crests were the same as my
treacherous guide had pointed out to me, and next day I skirted the lake
which, emptying itself by the subterranean river, gave entrance to the
mystic land of Nara.  Through many weary weeks I travelled hither and
thither, ill and half-starved, until at length I fell in with a camel
caravan, and travelling with them to Ideles, subsequently rejoined my
own tribesmen, who had, by that time, begun to despair of my safety.

Within six moons I made a report of the mysterious land, and all that I
had witnessed therein, to the Bureau Arabe, in Algiers, and ere six more
moons had waned, the Franks sent an armed expedition to enter and
explore the country.  Of this expedition I was appointed guide, all past
offences of my tribesmen being forgiven; but the soldiers of Nara
offering a determined resistance, their country was at once subdued and
occupied by the white conquerors.  The sacred Scarabaeus was destroyed
by dynamite, and the Throat of Death widened until it now forms one of
the entrances to the land so long unknown.  The dreaded Nara was sent as
prisoner down to Senegal, where she still lives in exile; but her
wondrous throne still remains in her great white palace--now a barrack
of the Spahis and Chasseurs--and the Arab story-tellers in every desert
town, from the Atlas to Lake Tsad, continue to relate weird and
wonderful tales of the City of the Golden Tombs and the Evil of the
Thousand Eyes.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE GATE OF HELL.

Lounging on a bench under the tall date-palms in the market-place of
Hamman-el-Enf, I smoked a rank _cherbli_ in dreamy laziness.  The day
was dying; the blazing African sun sank, flooding the broad Bay of Tunis
with its blood-red afterglow, and the giant palms cast their long,
straight shadows over the hot, sun-blanched stones.  There are no half
lights in Northern Africa; all is either glaring brilliance or sombre
shadow.  Little twilight is there in that land of mosques and marabouts;
night follows the death of day with astonishing rapidity.  Even while I
sat, darkness crept on; the squatting, chattering crowd of
white-burnoused Moors and Arabs and red-fezzed negroes had dispersed,
and the sunbaked little village seemed almost deserted.  Suddenly the
white figure of an Arab woman glided slowly and ghost-like from the deep
shadow of the ilexes.  Like all others of her sex, she was enshrouded in
a _haick_, and the lower portion of her face was hidden by her thick
white veil, only a magnificent pair of black sparkling eyes, and a
forehead upon which rows of gold sequins tinkled, being visible.

Halting for a few seconds, she stared at me as if in surprise, then, in
soft musical Arabic, gave me peace, exclaiming--

"Sadness dwelleth in the heart of the Touareg.  Of a verity thou art not
more sad than I," and, sighing, she drew her _adjar_ closer across her
face, and was about to pass on.

"Sad, art thou?"  I answered, surprised that she should address me, a
veiled man of the desert.  In the dim light I could distinguish that her
hose were of the finest white silk, that her tiny shoes were Paris made
and of patent leather, and that the hand which held the _haick_ around
her was loaded with valuable rings.  "Loosen thy tongue's strings, O one
of beauty," I said, gallantly.  "Tell me why speakest thou unto me; why
unhappiness hath fallen upon thee."

"Ah, no!" she replied, in a hoarse half-whisper, glancing round in
apparent fear.  "My people must not observe me having speech with thee.
Ah, Allah may bring one of us to Certainty before to-morrow, and--if
thou wouldst only help me!"

"What service can I render?"  I asked, quickly, well aware that the fact
of her speaking to a Touareg in a public place was of itself a very
grave offence in the eyes of the fanatical Aissawa.  The barrier between
the Berber and the Touareg in Tunis is still insurmountable.

"First, thou must trust me," she said frankly.  "I am called Fathma
Khadidja; and thy name--already I know it.  It is dangerous for me to
hold converse here with thee.  Let thy footsteps follow mine.  Come, and
may Allah, who knoweth the innermost parts of the breasts of men, shower
upon thee bounteous blessings," and she turned and started off with that
waddling gait peculiar to all Arab women.

I hesitated.  If really in distress, it was strange that she had not
called upon her own people to help her, instead of requesting a Touareg
and a stranger to render assistance.

No.  I decided not to go, and sat watching her receding figure cross the
market-place where slaves were sold even within recent years, and
disappear in the shadow of the mosque.

In an hour I had forgotten the mysterious Fathma and her troubles, and
returned to Tunis.

Next afternoon, as I entered my temporary abode in the Kasbah-Kasneh, my
slave handed me a note.  As I tore it open it emitted an odour of
geranium, the favourite perfume of the harem.  Having read the three
long lines of sprawly Arabic characters it contained, I placed the
missive in my pocket and turned away.  If I valued my life, I was to
meet Khadidja that evening.  Was that a threat, or a warning?  During
the remainder of that day I lounged outside the cafes and pondered
deeply.  For hours I ruminated over absinthe and mazagran, cassis and
bock; and, after much consideration, I at length resolved to keep the
appointment, and ascertain the extent of the mysterious danger of which
she wrote.

At the appointed hour I awaited her at a secluded spot outside the Bab
Alewa.  The clock of the Mosque of Sidi Mahrez, close by, struck
solemnly, and as the last sound died away I heard the _frou-frou_ of
feminine garments, as a shrouded figure advanced to meet me.

"Ah, so thou hast kept thine appointment, O Touareg!" she exclaimed,
stretching forth to me a soft white hand.  "Thou thinkest, because I
believe in the One, and in Mahomet his Prophet, that I am unworthy thy
regard; that I am not to be trusted, eh?"  Then she laughed lightly,
adding, "Come, let us hasten.  I want to have serious speech with thee
upon a matter that affecteth us both."

Without replying, I walked on beside her, wondering whether she were
ugly or beautiful.  Crossing a deserted garden, we passed out to where
two asses were tethered, and, mounting them, rode away into the
darkness.  I remember that we went through several villages, and at
length came to a larger place built upon the low cliffs, where a number
of spacious flat-roofed houses overlooked the sea.

Suddenly she dismounted before a low arched door in one of the great
square, inartistic, whitewashed residences, and placed her fingers upon
her lips indicative of silence.  Taking a key that was suspended around
her neck, she unlocked the door and led me into a dark passage so
thickly carpeted that my feet fell noiselessly as she guided me onward.
Once I caught a glimpse of a spacious patio, rendered cool by a plashing
fountain and green with many leaves; then through two small chambers we
passed, until we came to a closed door, which she opened, and I found
myself in a spacious, dimly illumined apartment, decorated in quaint
Arabesques of dark crimson and dull gold.  Everything was rich and
luxurious.  The air was heavy with sensuous odours rising in a thin blue
column from the gold perfuming-pan.  On the floor lay costly Arab rugs,
and a couple of lion skins were thrown down on each side of the centre
mat.  A _derbouka_, and a _ginkri_, fashioned from a tortoise-shell, lay
thrown aside, while from a magnificent hanging-lamp of gold a soft,
mellow light was diffused, though scarcely sufficient to show the heavy
draperies that concealed the walls.

"Best thee a moment, and I will return," my mysterious veiled guide
said; and then, drawing aside some of the silken hangings, she
disappeared through a door that had been hidden.

With hands behind me, I slowly wandered round, wondering what apartment
of the house this was, when some half-finished embroidery that had
apparently been tossed hurriedly aside upon a coffee stool of inlaid
pearl and silver caught my eye.  That told me the truth.  My heart gave
a sudden bound.  I was in the harem!

A French novel lay open on one of the little tables.  I took it up, and,
as I stood in wonderment, a movement behind me caused me to turn, and
then I beheld the most beautiful woman I had ever gazed upon.  She was
not more than twenty-two, with a complexion fresh as a Frenchwoman's,
features that were perfect, pretty lips parted in a glad smile, and a
dress that was the most gorgeous I had ever seen.  The ugly _haick_ had
been replaced by a _rlila_ of palest leaf-green brocaded silk, beneath
which showed a rose-pink velvet vest; and, in the place of the baggy
trousers, she wore the _serroual_, of silken gauze.  Her tiny bare feet
were thrust into slippers of rose velvet; on her head was set jauntily a
little crimson skull-cap embroidered with seed-pearls; and her _fouta_,
or sash, was of tricolour-striped silk, richly ornamented with gold.
Upon her bare arms and ankles diamonds flashed and sparkled with a
thousand fires, and her bangles jingled as she moved.  She dazzled and
fascinated me.

With an apology for having left me, she sank slowly among her cushions
with graceful abandon, at the same time losing one of her slippers, and
motioning me to a seat near her.

"Thou thinkest it strange," she said; "perhaps even thou art angry, that
I have brought thee hither alone unto this gilded cage.  But I must
speak with thee, O Man of the Desert--to warn thee;" and her dimpled
chin rested upon her dainty palm as she, with seriousness, looked
straight into my eyes.

"To warn me!  Of what?"

"Thou art threatened," she answered slowly.  "Thou wilt, perhaps,
remember that a month ago thou wert in Kabylia, and left Fort National
for Tizi Ouzou.  Thou hadst the careless indifference that thy free life
giveth, and, no doubt, thou wert prepared to meet Eblis himself if he
promised an adventure.  On that occasion with whom didst thou travel?"

"I journeyed in company of a wealthy man of thy people, who was
returning from the wine market."

"True, O friend," she replied.  "A week ago thou didst describe that
journey to a Frank of the _Moniteur de l'Algerie_, and ridiculed thy
companion.  See here!" and stretching forth her hand, she took up a
paper containing an interview in which I had treated the journey in a
comic vein, and had denounced in no measured terms the bigotry of my
fellow-traveller.

"Thou art a Veiled Man; and that man," she continued, "hath sworn upon
the book of Everlasting Will to kill thee!"

"How dost thou know this, O thou whose face is rivalled only by the
sun?"  I asked quickly.

"Because--because the man thou hast ridiculed is my husband!" she
replied, rising, and adding wildly, "Because I overheard the villainous
scheme that he hath planned with his brother to take thy life, and at
the risk of mine own honour I determined to save thee.  Allah alone
knoweth how terrible is my life alone in this place with my servants,
bound to a fierce, brutal man who loveth me not, and upon whose brow the
Cafer hath set seal."

"Is thy husband neglectful, then?"  I asked, noticing the poignant
sorrow that in that moment seemed to have crushed her.

"Alas! yes.  Whithersoever I go the curse of Sajin seemeth upon me," she
sighed, passing her slim, bejewelled hand slowly across her white
forehead.  Tears welled in her brilliant eyes, as she added in a broken
voice, "I am lost--lost to all; soulless, uncared for, unloved."

She hesitated a moment thoughtfully, glancing first at her own
bejewelled hands find then at mine.  With a quick movement she drew from
one of her fingers a curious ring of silver, around which were Arabic
characters in gold.

"See!" she cried, as if a sudden thought had occurred to her.  "Take
this, and wear it.  It is my talisman, and as long as it is upon thy
finger no harm can befall thee.  It beareth the stamp of `La Belle,' and
will preserve thee in health and guard thee in the hour of tribulation."

She took my hand in hers, and drawing my own ring from my finger,
replaced it by her strange-looking talisman, afterwards slipping my own
ring upon her hand.  A sob escaped her.  "We have exchanged rings!" she
exclaimed brokenly, looking up into my face with tear-stained,
world-weary eyes.  Then, clutching her bare breast as if to still the
throbbing of her heart, she cried, "When--when thou art far away, thou
wilt, peradventure, sometimes gaze upon mine, and remember that a
service was once rendered thee by a poor, unhappy woman--thou wilt
recollect that her name is Fathma Khadidja--that--that--ah! forgive me,
for I am mad! mad!"

Raising my hand to her warm lips, she kissed it passionately with all
the fire and ardour of the Child of the Sun.  Then, releasing me, she
tottered back, panting, and sank upon her silken divan, with her face
buried in her hands, sobbing as if her heart would break.

"_Cama tafakal kathalika tola ki_," I said, quoting at random from the
Koran.  "Come, come," I added sympathetically, sinking down beside her,
tenderly stroking her long, silky tresses.  "Despair not.  The One
Worthy of Praise knoweth how thou sufferest, and will give unto thee
strength in the hour of thy need, and bring thee into the shadow of the
great lote tree."

"Ah!  Thy mouth uttereth pearls of wisdom," she cried wildly.  "But I
have touched thee, a Touareg, and am accursed by Allah.  I care nought
for the future, for already am I forsaken, already have I tasted of the
bitter fruit of Al-Zakkum, and am doomed to the torture of Al-Hawiyat,
the place prepared for the evil-doers."  Then, raising her face to mine,
with an intense look of passionate love, she said in a soft, sibilant
whisper, "Once only!  Kiss me once!  Then thou mayest go, and never
shall we meet--never!"

Her beautiful head fell upon my shoulder, and her hair--soft as spun
silk--strayed across my face.  For a moment her lips met mine in a hot,
passionate kiss, a caress enough to make any man's head reel.

"I love thee," she whispered, in low, half-frightened tones, as she
clung to me, and would not allow me to release myself.  "Unseen by thee,
I have watched thee many moons, and to-night have I brought thee hither
to tell thee--to confess to thee my secret."

I tried to draw my lingering lips from hers, but with the fire of
passion gleaming in her brilliant eyes she gripped me with a force I
should not have supposed her capable of.

"Stay," she whispered.  "Without thee the canker-worm of love eateth
away my heart."

But I tore myself from her and left.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next day my business of selling sheep took me to the Haras Fortress,
away behind the hills of Ahmar, and the voices of the _muddenin_ were
already calling the faithful for the _maghrib_ when I re-entered the
Kasbah.  Kasneh, my slave, was playing _damma_ in the courtyard, but
rose quietly, saluted, and told me that he had taken to my room a small
package which had been left by the negro servant that had brought the
letter on the previous day.

Could it, I wondered, be a present from Khadidja?  Rushing in, I found
on my table a small box, packed in white paper and secured with black
seals.  Eagerly I tore away the wrappings and opened it.

As I did so a shriek of horror escaped me.  I fell back awe-stricken at
the sight presented.  Inside a satin-lined bracelet-case, bearing the
name of a Paris jeweller, on a piece of pale-blue velvet, there was
stretched a human finger that had been roughly hacked off at the joint!
It lay stiff, white, and cold, with the blood coagulated where the blunt
knife had jagged the flesh.  The finger was a woman's--slim,
well-formed, with the nail stained by henna.  It was loaded with costly
rings, which scintillated in the golden ray of sunset that strayed into
the room, and fell across them.  As I looked, breathless in amazement, I
saw among the ornaments my own ring!

A scrap of paper that fluttered to the ground bore the words, scrawled
in Arabic character, "From the husband of Fathma Khadidja!"

That same night I strode furiously along the seashore, watching the
glimmering lights in the distance.  In fear and trepidation, I took the
hideous souvenir of love, and, when far from the city, cast it away from
me into the dark rolling waters.

Perhaps there, deep in its lonely hiding-place, it met the white, dead
thing of which it had once formed part--the body of the matchless
daughter of the sun whose wondrous hair enmeshed me, whose full, red
lips held me like a magnet, shackling me to the inevitable.  Who can
tell?

Truly, in that brief hour when I lounged at her side, I was at the
dreaded Bab-el-Hawiyat.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE QUEEN OF THE SILENT KINGDOM.

I entered the Silent Kingdom six years ago.

Praise be to Allah, whom the weight of a pearl upon the earth does not
escape.  May prayer and salvation be with the master of the first and
last, our Lord Mahommed.  Of a verity have I been blessed with blessings
abundant, and enveloped by the cloak of his protection.

We had left the shore of Lake Tsad after pillaging a great caravan from
the north, and were moving westward across the stern, sterile desert in
the direction of Gao, or Kou-kou, as it is popularly known among us,
where we could dispose of our stolen merchandise.  For months we had
travelled across that immensity of sands where the very birds lose
themselves, our camels often stumbling upon some skull, tibia, or even
an entire skeleton, the remains of bygone generations of travellers who
had perished on those lonely wastes.  The sun blazed fiercely in the
flaming sky, the skin cracked, the lips were parched.  All the water we
had was warm and impure, and even that was insufficient to quench our
thirst.  A scaly viper occasionally crossed our route, and at long
intervals the swift flight of an antelope was seen.  For days, months,
nothing had rejoiced our eyes save the deceitful vision of the mirage,
and one evening I decided upon a three days' halt for rest.

On the previous day our eyes had been gladdened by the sight of a small
well, where we filled our water-skins, therefore we were enabled to take
our case; although being in an entirely unfamiliar country, the
watchfulness of our sentries was never for a single instant
relinquished.  We were travelling with the sun only as our guide,
therefore knew not into what territory we had entered, save that it was
as barren and inhospitable a region as it had ever been our lot to
encounter,--a shadowless land of solitude, abandonment, and misery.

In our raid upon the caravan near Lake Tsad a bundle of papers had come
into our possession, and these had been handed to me; but travelling
constantly, I had not had time or inclination to examine them.  That
night, however, alone in my tent, I untied them and spread them out.
Most of them, including a kind of diary, were written in the language of
the Roumis, and as some bore the image of the Liberty of the Franks, I
concluded that they must have belonged to some French officer in the
northern region of the Desert, who had probably perished in an attempt
to penetrate south.

One paper, however, the last I took up, was written in my own tongue,
and I read it eagerly.  It was an official letter, dated from Paris,
urging its recipient to secure, if possible, during his explorations,
the _Fatassi_ of Koti, as the French Government were extremely anxious
to obtain possession of it, and by that letter offered to pay any sheikh
or tribesman almost any sum in exchange for it.

I put the letter down, smiled, and resumed my pipe.  The hapless
explorer, whoever he was, had probably died, and certainly his hopes
would never be realised, for the _Fatassi_ of the learned Koti was the
phantom book of the Soudan.  There was not a clansman in the whole of
the Great Desert who did not know all about that priceless volume, yet
no one had ever seen it.  It had been lost to the world for ages.

Mohaman Koti, or Koutou, the great marabout, lived in Timbuktu in the
year 850 of the Hegira, and was the most esteemed and even tyrannical
councillor of our ancestor, its powerful king.  His authority is said to
have originated in the following manner.  The king one day distributed
some dried dates to his court, and Koti, who had recently arrived, was
overlooked.  Shortly afterwards the learned councillor assembled a
number of people and dispensed fresh dates among them.  This miracle--
for we have no dates in that region of the far south--having reached the
king's ears, he discerned that upon Koti was set the divine seal, and
from that moment gave him all his confidence.  A few years later,
according to Tarik e Sudan, Koti edited a history of the Kingdoms of
Ganata, Songhoi, and Timbuktu, the only history written of those once
all-powerful centres of civilisation, and in addition he dealt with the
concerns of many peoples and many men.  Families, since grown rich and
powerful, and the chiefs of various countries, were shown to be with
very humble origins, sometimes being the offspring of slaves.  But while
the book was being written, news was conveyed to the King of Timbuktu
that the Songhois had revolted, and had combined with the great nation
of Mossi to attack and capture his capital; therefore, in order to save
his great store of treasure, he at once had it made up into single
camel-loads, taken out of the city, and secreted in various distant
spots on the confines of his empire.  It was necessary, of course, to
keep a strict and minute description of each spot where the wealth of
the capital was concealed, in order that it might be recovered after the
war; therefore Koti was ordered to inscribe in his book instructions how
to unearth the great store of gold and gems, the spoils of war during
four centuries.  This, according to a legend completely borne out by our
Tarik, he did, and the precious manuscript was given into the king's own
keeping.  Ere one moon, however, the learned historian died suddenly at
Tindirma, where a little white mosquelike house marks his grave till
this day.  The war was fought, proving, alas! disastrous to the king,
who was compelled to fly, but, strangely enough the Tarik maintains
silence regarding his subsequent adventures, or of what became of the
precious _Fatassi_.  Legend has it that the king was treacherously
poisoned by a slave, as rulers were apt to be in those turbulent days;
but by whatever means the once-powerful monarch met with his death, the
fact remains that the priceless volume and guide to the enormous
treasure of ancient Timbuktu was lost to all.  For more than four
centuries the recovery of the _Fatassi_ has been the dream of poor and
rich alike.  The scholar coveted it because it would shed so much light
upon the obscure past of these vast regions; the camel-driver, the
merchant, and the prince alike desired to possess it for the information
it was known to contain regarding the long-lost wealth.

It was because of the latter that the government of the Franks desired
to obtain it.  But theirs, like my own, was but a vain desire.

A whole moon passed, and still we pressed forward towards Gao, ever in
the crimson track of the setting sun.  One night, however, when the camp
was asleep, the guards raised the alarm, but so suddenly were we
attacked that we scarce had time to defend ourselves from a column of
French Spahis who had swept down upon us.  It was a mad, terrible rush.
Although our tribesmen fought valiantly and well, it was impossible to
withstand the frightful hail of bullets poured forth upon us by a gun
they carried which spat forth lead in deadly hail.  Our men, seeing the
havoc wrought by this new weapon, turned and fled.  Fortunately the
poison-wind had sprung up, and its clouds of sand cannot be faced by the
men of the north; therefore we were enabled to escape, although
unfortunately compelled to leave the greater part of the stolen camels
and merchandise in their possession.

As, in the confusion, I sprang upon a horse and rode through the
blinding sandstorm for my life, I heard the thud of the horses' hoofs of
my pursuers.  From the noise there must have been a score of men,
anxious, no doubt, to secure the marauding chief feared by all the
caravans.  But swift as the wind itself, I rode on alone the greater
part of that hot, stifling night, until, pulling up, dismounting, and
placing my ear to the ground, I could, detect no sound of pursuit.  In
the glimmering twilight, as night gave place to day, I saw before me a
huge, dark rock, shaped like a camel's hump, rising from the sand, and,
riding onward, I there tethered my horse beneath it, and flung myself
down to snatch an hour's sleep ere the sun rose, intending then to go
forth again and rejoin my scattered people.

How long mine eyes were closed Allah alone knoweth; but when I opened
them I found myself lying on a panther's skin in a darkened chamber,
filled with the music of running water.  The place was cooled by the
stream, and in the dim recesses of the room I could distinguish rich
divans.  Suspended from the roof was a fine Moorish lamp of chased gold,
which shed a soft, yellow light, and from a perfuming-pan was diffused
the sweet odour of attar of rose.  The light was soft and restful, and
in wonder I rubbed my eyes and gazed about me.

"Allah give thee peace, O stranger!" a thin squeaking voice exclaimed.
And glancing quickly behind me, I beheld a wizen-faced man, small of
stature, dressed in a robe of bright blue silk, and so bent by age that
his white beard almost swept the ground.  Notwithstanding his venerable
appearance, however, his face was dark and forbidding, and his small,
black piercing eyes, that time had not dimmed, had a glint of evil in
them.  Instinctively, ere we had spoken a dozen words, I mistrusted him.

"To whose hospitality do I owe the rest and repose I have enjoyed?"  I
inquired, slowly rising to my feet and stretching my cramped limbs.

"My name," the old man croaked, "is Ibn Batouba.  I discovered thee
sleeping in the sun outside this my dwelling-place, and brought thee in,
for the rays had smitten thee with a grievous sickness, and thou wert on
the point of death.  Thou hast remained here twelve days."

"Twelve days!"  I cried, with incredulity, at the same moment feeling my
head reeling.  "Then to thee I owe my life?"

The hideous old man in blue grinned with satisfaction, regarding me with
a strange, covert glance.

By this time my eyes had grown accustomed to the semi-darkness, and I
saw that the chamber was a natural one--a kind of arched cavern, the
floor of which had been levelled, and a channel formed for the cool
spring that bubbled forth and rippled away into gloomy depths.

"This thy dwelling is beneath the surface of the earth," I observed,
glancing around me.  "Why dwellest thou here in secret?"

"The true Arab answereth not the question of Ahamadou, Sheikh of the
Azjar Touaregs," he replied, with a sneering accentuation on the final
word.  "Allah hath sent thee as my guest; partake of all that I have,
but seek no explanation of who or of what I am."

He evidently recognised me, and his strange words puzzled me.  First, I
had no idea that such a luxurious abode could exist in the centre of
that inhospitable region; secondly, the very fact pointed to the
conclusion that in my flight I had approached near to a town; but
thirdly, I had already proof positive that my strange host, the man who
declared he had saved my life, lied to me.  At the well where we had
halted on the day before the fight, I had plucked a sprig of jasmine,
and placed a tiny piece behind my ear, beneath the black nicab around my
head.  This I recollected, and, taking it in my hand, found it still
limp and undried.  By that alone I knew I had not been there many hours,
and that his story was untrue.

I suggested that I should be reluctantly compelled to leave; but he at
once became profuse in his hospitality.

"No, not yet," he urged.  "I am alone, save for my slaves, and thy
companionship is pleasant.  Remain, and I will show thee over this my
hidden dwelling-place.  It may interest thee."  And taking down a torch,
he lit it and led the way across a tiny bridge that spanned the running
water, and opening a door in the rock, conducted me through several
intricate passages, narrow and dark, until we came to a series of
caverns of various sizes, each hung with rich silken hangings, and the
floors covered by the most beautiful carpets from the East.  Over each a
great golden lamp of filigree shed a soft light, showing how rich and
costly were the antique tables of inlaid pearl and silver, and how wide
and soft were the divans.  In each the thin blue smoke, curling upward
from the golden perfuming-pan, gave forth an intoxicating fragrance, and
in one I noticed lying discarded a pair of tiny green slippers,
embroidered with seed-pearls, and a ginkra, one of those little
two-stringed guitars fashioned from a tortoise-shell, both betraying the
presence of a woman.

When we had passed through half a dozen similar chambers in the solid
rock, the old man, croaking as he went, stopped suddenly at the further
end of the last and most gorgeous of all his subterranean domain, and
with a grim expression on his evil countenance, said--

"And this is the Bab-el-Hawiyat--the dreaded Gate of Evil, whence none
return."  I started, and drew back.  Throughout the Desert there has
been for all ages a legend that somewhere there exists the entrance to
the dreaded kingdom of darkness where Eblis reigneth.  He opened wide
the small door; but there was only darkness impenetrable, and an odour
of damp earth.  Holding his torch aloft, he crossed the threshold, and
bade me peer in.  Then I distinguished, a few spans from where he stood,
a great yawning chasm opening to the very bowels of the earth.

"Hearken!" he cried in his squeaking, uncanny voice, at the same time
returning into the room and snatching up from one of the coffee-stools a
large metal dish, which an instant later he hurled into the dark abyss.

I listened to ascertain its depth.  But no sound came back.  I
shuddered, for I knew it was unfathomable.

As he faced me in closing the door I detected in his keen eyes a strange
exultant look, and was seized by a sudden desire to ascend once again to
the light of day.  True, I could have crushed the life out of him as
easily as I could crush a spider in my fingers, while in my belt was my
jambiyah that had a score of times tasted the life-blood of mine
enemies, yet he had not harmed me, and to kill one's host is forbidden
by Al-Koran.  Therefore I stayed my hand.

As we retraced our steps he poured upon me nauseating adulations,
declaring me to be the most valiant sheikh in the Great Desert, and
using the most extravagant simile of which the Arabic tongue is capable,
a fact which in itself filled me with increasing suspicion.  Suddenly,
however, as we reached the chamber where flowed the cooling spring, the
truth was made plain.  As he opened the door two officers of the French,
in linen garments and white helmets, who had apparently been lying in
wait, pounced upon me, uttering loud cries of triumph.

The old white-bearded recluse--may Allah burn his vitals--had betrayed
me.  He had held me, and sent word to the Franks to come and capture
their prize--Ahamadou, the chieftain of the Azjar.  But in an instant I,
upon whose head a price was set, drew my blade and defended myself,
slashing vigorously right and left, succeeding at last in escaping down
the dark winding passage through which we had just passed.  Forward I
dashed through room after room, upsetting some of the tables in my mad
rush, while behind me were the white-faced officers with drawn swords,
determined to take me alive or dead.  Well I knew how desperate they
were, and in that instant believed myself lost.  Yet, determined to sell
my life dearly, it flashed across my mind that rather than suffer the
ignominy of being taken in chains to Algiers, the infidel city, and
there tried by the tribunal as others had been, I would cast myself into
the fathomless pit.

I sprang towards the small, low door, but at first could not open it.
In a few moments the crafty Ibn Batouba, with the Franks, gained the
spot; but I had already unlocked the door and flung it open.  Then, just
as they put out their hands to seize me, I swung aside, lifted my knife,
and struck my evil-faced betrayer full to the heart.

With a piercing shriek he fell forward over the door lintel, and his
lifeless body rolled into the awful chasm, while at the same instant I
gave a bound, and with a cry of defiance, leaped down into the darkness
after him.

I felt myself rushing through air, the wind whistling in my ears as deep
down I went like a stone in the impenetrable gloom.  Those moments
seemed hours, until of a sudden a blow on the back knocked me
half-insensible, and I found myself a second later wallowing in a bed of
thick, soft dust.  Instantly it occurred to me that because this carpet
of dust deadened the sound of things pitched into the chasm, the belief
had naturally arisen that it was unfathomable.  I rose, but sank up to
the knees in the soft sand, which, stirred by my fall, half-choked me.
Far above, looking distant like a star, I saw the light of a torch.  My
infidel pursuers were peering into the fearsome place in chagrin that I
had evaded them.  The air, however, was hot and foul, and I knew that to
save my life I must be moving; therefore, with both hands outstretched,
I groped about, amazed to discover the great extent of this natural
cleft in the earth, formed undoubtedly by some earthquake in a remote
age.

Once I stumbled, and bending, felt at my feet the still warm body of my
betrayer--may Eblis rend him.  I drew my jambiyah from his breast, and
replaced it in its sheath.  Then, tearing from his body the silken gauze
which formed his girdle, I fashioned a torch, igniting it after some
difficulty with my steel.  Around me was only an appalling darkness, and
I feared to test the extent of the place by shouting, lest my pursuers
above should hear.  So forward I toiled in a straight line, floundering
at every step in the dust of ages, until the cleft narrowed and became
tunnel-like with a hard floor.  I stooped to feel it, and was astounded
to discover that the rock had been worn smooth and hollow by the tramp
of many feet.

Besides, the air had become distinctly fresher, and this fact renewed
courage within me.  At first I felt myself doomed to die like a fox in a
trap; but with hope reawakened there might, after all, I thought, be
some outlet.

Of a sudden, however, there arose before me a colossal female figure
seated on a kind of stool, with features so hideous and repulsive that I
drew back with an involuntary cry.  It was a score times as high as
myself, and as I hold my torch above my head to examine it, I saw it was
of some white, semi-transparent stone of a kind I had never before
beheld.  The robes were coloured scarlet and bright blue, and the face
and hands were tinted to resemble life.  One hand was outstretched.  On
the brow was a chaplet of wonderful pearls, and on the colossal fingers,
each as thick as my own wrist, were massive golden rings which sparkled
with gems.  But the sinister grinning countenance was indeed that of a
high-priestess of Eblis.

In amazement I held my breath and gazed about me.  Around the sides of
the cavern were ranged many other smaller female figures, seated like
the central one, and the face of each bore a hideous, repulsive grin, as
if in mockery of my misfortunes.  Before the great central colossus was
a small triangular stone altar, upon which was some object.  I crossed,
and glancing at it found to my dismay that it was a beautiful and very
ancient illuminated manuscript of our holy Koran.  But through it had
been thrust a poignard, now red with rust, and it had been torn,
slashed, and otherwise defiled.

The truth then dawned upon me that this noisome place into which I had
plunged was actually the abode of the ancient and accursed sect who
worshipped Eblis as their god.

As I gazed wonderingly about me, I saw everywhere evidence that for ages
no foot of man had entered that dark silent chamber.  The dust of
centuries lay smooth and untrodden.

Again I passed beneath the ponderous feet of the gigantic statue, when
suddenly my eyes were attracted by an inscription in Kufic, the ancient
language of the marabouts, traced in geometrical design upon the hem of
the idol's garment.  My torch had burned dim, so I lit another, and by
its flickering rays succeeded in deciphering the following words:--

"Lo!  I am Azour, wife of Eblis, and Queen of all Things Beneath the
Earth.  To me, all bow, for I hold its riches in the hollow of my hand."

I glanced up quickly, and there, far above, I distinguished that in the
idol's open palm there lay some object which the fickle flame of my
torch could not reveal.  But consumed by curiosity, I at once resolved
to clamber up and ascertain what riches lay there.  With extreme
difficulty, and holding my flambeau in my left hand, I managed at length
to reach the platform formed by the knees of the figure, and then
scrambled up the breast and along the outstretched arm.  But on mounting
the latter, I was dismayed to discover that the object for which I had
toiled was neither gold, silver, nor gems, but merely a brown and mouldy
parchment scroll.  Standing at last upon the open hand, I bent and
picked it up; but in an instant I recognised that my find was of
priceless value.  Ere I had read three lines of the beautifully formed
but sadly faded Arabic characters, I knew that it was none other than
the long-sought manuscript of the _Fatassi_, the mysterious phantom book
of the Soudan.

I placed my treasure beneath my dissa, and at once proceeded to descend,
eager to discover some means of escape from that gloomy cavern, peopled
by its hideous ghosts of a pagan past.  In frantic haste I sought means
of exit; but not until several hours had elapsed did I succeed in
entering a burrow which, leading out into a barren ravine in the desert,
had once, no doubt, been used as entrance to the secret temple of those
who believed not in the One Merciful, but in Eblis and Azour.

After travelling many days, I succeeded in rejoining my people at a spot
four marches from Gao, bearing concealed in my dissa the priceless
history of my ancestors, with the minute plans for the recovery of their
hidden treasure.  At this moment the _Fatassi_, traced by the hand of
Koti, so long coveted by the Franks, is in my possession; though only to
two of my headmen have I imparted the secret that I have recovered it.

To seek to unearth the ancient treasure at present would be worse than
useless, for our conquerors would at once despoil us.  But when the
great Jehad is at last fought, and more peaceful days dawn in the
Soudan, then will the secret treasure-houses be opened and the Azjar
become a power in the land, because of the inexhaustible riches left to
them by their valiant ancestors for the re-establishment of their lost
kingdom.  Until then, they possess themselves in patience, and trust in
the One.

To thee, O Reader of this my Tarik of toil and tumult, peace.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE FATHER OF THE HUNDRED SLAVES.

Ahamadou, squatting upon his haunches before our camp fire, calmly
smoking his long pipe, related to me the following story, declaring it
to be a true incident.  All wanderers in the Great Desert, be they Arabs
or Touaregs, are born story-tellers, therefore I reproduce the narrative
as he told it.  It must be remembered that the Azjars were, at one
period--not so very long ago--slavers who made many raids in the
primeval forests south of Lake Tsad, and that Ahamadou himself profited
very considerably by that illegitimate trade.  It was rumoured down at
"the coast" that the leaders of these Touareg raiders were not Africans,
and this story appears to substantiate a statement which was, at the
time, ridiculed at the Colonial Office in London.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Get up, you lazy devil.  Stir yourself.  We're in a complete hole!"

"Hole? hole?  Ah, your English tongue is indeed extraordinaire!  A hole
is a place in the ground, _n'est ce pas_?"

"Yes, and you'll have a hole in the ground all to yourself, my dear
Pierre, if you don't bustle up a bit."

Pierre Dubois, the man addressed, a bronzed, grey-bearded, stout,
small-eyed Belgian of fifty, was lying tranquilly on his back on a pile
of soft rugs, like an Oriental potentate, smoking his _shisha_, or
travelling pipe, and being fanned by an extremely ugly negress.  Dubois
was the name he had adopted after leaving the Congo hurriedly, carrying
with him a goodly sum belonging to the Belgian Government, in whose
employ he had been for ten years.  A native of Liege, he was one of the
pioneers of that so-called Central African civilisation of trade, gin,
and the whip; but after lining his pockets well, and making good his
escape through the boundless virgin forests of "darkest Africa," he had
started as a trader in that most marketable of all commodities--black
ivory.

Pierre Dubois and Henry Snape, his partner, were slave-raiders.  They
dressed as Arabs, and lived as Arabs.

Outside in the blazing noon, beneath the scanty shade of a few palms and
mimosa scrub which surrounded that desert watering-place known as Akdul,
a number of their heavily-armed followers were lying stretched upon the
sand, sleeping soundly after their two-bow prayer to Allah, while here
and there alone sat one of their number on his haunches, wrapped in his
white burnouse, hugging his knees, his rifle at his side, keeping watch.
They were a forbidding, evil-looking lot these Songhoi Touaregs,
pirates of the forests and the desert, each with his black _litham_
wrapped around his face concealing his features, a complete arsenal of
weapons in his girdle, a string of charms sewn in little bags of yellow
leather around his neck, and, strapped beneath his left arm, a short
cross-kilted sword, keen-edged as a razor.

Beyond, lying in the full sun glare, were sixty or seventy wretched,
woolly-haired negroes, men and women, chained together and guarded by a
dozen of the veiled men.  Throughout Northern and Central Africa the
very name of the Songhoi was synonymous with all that was fierce, cruel,
and relentless, for they lived by robbing the desert caravans or
capturing slaves in the boundless virgin forests between the Niger and
the Congo, being essentially a nomadic race, and having no other home
than their tents in the Sahara, that limitless wilderness of rock and
sand.  Of all the slavers of Central Africa these "veiled men" were the
worst, for they attacked and burned villages, placed the unfortunate
blacks to torture to compel them to reveal the hiding-places of their
store of ivory, and afterwards took them prisoners, and sold them in the
great central slave-market at El Obeid, away in Kordofan.

Among the natives of the Upper Congo and the Aruwimi, even the hordes of
that notorious king of slavers, Tippu-Tib,--so called by the negroes
because the guns of his men created a noise, from which they have named
him phonetically,--were more tolerated than the fierce Songhoi bands,
with their black veils, which none ever removed, sleeping or waking; for
the track of the latter through the forest or grass-land was always
marked by murder, devastation, and wanton cruelty.

Dubois, when in the service of King Leopold, had been active in
endeavouring to put down the trade, but seeing how lucrative it was, and
finding Snape, an English adventurer, ready to join him, he had
collected a following of the fiercest Touaregs he could gather, and as
he paid all well for their services, while on their part they were proud
to be led by a white man in whom they had once lived in fear, their
trade had, for a long time, been a most lucrative one.  They were the
terror of the whole region from Stanley Falls to Tanganyika.  A dozen
times they had been north to El Obeid with ivory of both varieties,
white and black, and on each occasion the profits had been far beyond
their expectations.  The trade is still easy enough in the Congo State,
and slaves are captured without very much difficulty.  The great risk,
however, is to transport them by the route they had been following for
the past two months, as, in order to reach the central market, they had
to pass through that portion of British territory where a very watchful
eye is kept, and where the notorious Arab raider Kilonga-Longa met his
fate only a few months before.

But Dubois and Snape had run the gauntlet many times, and were
absolutely fearless.  On the present raid through the country of Emin
and Junker, they had made their captures in the Moubouttou, within the
Belgian sphere of influence, with the complicity of the Belgian agent at
Sanga, whom they, of course, bribed with a goodly present of ivory;
then, marching through the great Forest of Eternal Night, due northward
to Zayadin, they had passed through the Dinka country to Fatik, which,
being only two days' march from the Bahr-el-Guebel upon which the
British have posts, is a dangerous point.  Nevertheless, they had pushed
forward night and day, and were now in the centre of that great,
sunburnt desert, the Wilderness of Nouer, which stretches northward for
three hundred miles to El Obeid.

Dubois grumbled loudly at the Englishman for interrupting his
meditations, saying--

"Go and sleep, _mon cher_.  You'll be getting fever if you worry too
much."

"Worry!" echoed Snape.  "There's danger, I tell you.  Surely you're not
a confounded fool, man?"

"Ah," answered his partner, quite calmly, "is there not always danger
here, in Africa?  You have a wonderful imagination, my dear Henri, I
quite admit; but do allow me to finish my sleep.  Then let us talk of
this extraordinary hole, whatever it may be."

"Idiot!" ejaculated the Englishman, hitching up his flowing white
burnouse.  He was a tall, good-looking fellow of forty, whose career,
however, had been a singularly eventful one.  Since he left Balliol he
had met with a good many adventures in various lands, most of them being
to his discredit.  He had been a born gambler, and had drifted from the
London clubs to the tables at Monte Carlo, and thence, by a very crooked
channel, to that sink of the world, Africa, where chance had brought him
in contact with the scoundrel and arch-slaver Dubois.  They were a
well-matched pair.  At college Snape had taken honours for Arabic,
therefore his knowledge of that language now served him in good stead.
He was one of those men who could never run straight, even though he had
often tried.  He was a born outsider.

"Why idiot?" inquired his partner lazily.  The old negress waved the fan
backwards and forwards, understanding not a word of the conversation
between the headman and the great white Sheikh, who, on account of his
raiding, the Touaregs had named The Father of the Hundred Slaves.

"Well, I'm not the sort of fellow to let the grass grow under my feet
when there's any danger," snapped Snape.  "You remember what Zafar said
yesterday."

"He's like yourself, _mon cher_,--always apprehensive of some horrible
calamity," muttered the Belgian, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips.

"This time, I tell you, it's no mere imagination," the Englishman went
on.  "Last night, after the _dua_, I left secretly, so as not to arouse
any misgivings, and rode due east until the dawn, when I discovered,
encamped among the _aghrad_, a whole troop of Soudanese soldiers.  I got
near enough to ascertain that the officers were Englishmen."

"Well?"

"They've got word somehow that we are passing through," he said.  "And
now, if you don't stir yourself, you'll never see Brussels again--you
understand?"

"I have no wish to see Bruxelles, _mon cher_," the elder man replied,
quite undisturbed.  "If I did, it would only be to see the inside of a
prison.  No; I prefer Africa to the pleasures of the miniature Paris.
Here, if one has a little ivory, one is a king.  Life is very pleasant."

"I admit that," his companion said.  "But do, for Heaven's sake, get up
and let us decide what to do.  There's danger, and we can't afford to be
trapped, especially with all those niggers tied in a string.  The
evidence is a bit too strong against us, and the officers are English.
There's no bribing _them_, you know."

The Belgian stirred himself lazily at last, and asked--

"Are they at a well?"

"No.  They are without water."

"Then as this is the only well for about a hundred miles, they'll arrive
here to-day--eh?"

"Of course.  That's why I came straight to warn you.  There's no time to
be lost.  Let's strike camp and get away.  It's skip or fight."

"If we skeep--I suppose you mean march--ah! your English language!--then
they will skeep in pretty quick time after us.  They've got wind of our
presence in the vicinity, therefore why not remain and fight?"

"Fight my own people?" cried Snape.  "No, I'm damned if I do!"

"Why not?" asked the Belgian, with gesticulation.  "Our Touaregs will
slice them into mincemeat.  Besides, at long range they're as good
shots, and better, than those Soudanese, all fez and swagger."

"No," the Englishman argued.  "Let's fly now, while there's time.  In
two days we shall be in the Nioukour, and they'll never find us in the
mountains.  We hid there quite snugly once before, you recollect."

"Muhala," said the Belgian, turning to the old negress, "go.  Call
Yakub, and remain outside."

The hideous old woman went forth into the sun glare, and in a few
moments an old thin-faced Touareg entered, making a low salaam.

"Now, Yakub," exclaimed the Belgian in Arabic, "answer me.  Of what did
our caravan consist when we left the Aruwimi?"

"Three hundred and thirty-three slaves, and twenty-nine tusks," answered
the villainous-looking old fellow.

"And now?"

"Seventy-three blacks and twenty-nine tusks."

"Then two hundred and sixty have died?"

"Yea, O master," he responded.  "The new lash of elephant hide has
killed many, and the black death has been responsible for the remainder.
Five are suffering from it now, and never a day passes ere one or more
is not attacked.  I have feared that none will live to sight the mosques
of El Obeid."

"In short, Yakub, they are a diseased lot--eh?  You think they're
worthless?"

"Only two women are left, O master, and both were seized by the black
death yesterday."

"In that case," observed the Belgian, turning to his partner, "the whole
batch are not worth transporting.  The game is not, as you English say,
worth the lamp."

"Then what's your suggestion?" asked Snape.

"Well, as you are so much in fear of these confounded English, we must,
I suppose, act."

"How?"

"It is quite simple.  We just abandon the whole lot, and save ourselves
and the ivory."

"Very well," his companion agreed.  "I'm open to any move except
fighting against the English."

"Bah!  You are full of scruples, _mon cher_ Henri," he laughed.  "I have
none--none.  And I am happy--perfectly happy."  He was silent a moment,
as though reflecting deeply.

"But," he added, "I do wish we could teach these interfering English a
lesson.  It would do them good.  They try to rule Africa nowadays.  Ah!
if we could--if we could!"  And there was a strange glint of evil in his
eyes.

An hour later Dubois and Snape, at the head of their formidable troop of
brigandish horsemen, were riding at full speed across the desert due
west, towards the far distant forest of Dyonkor, it having been decided
to skirt this, and then travel south for a fresh raid in Congo
territory.

As for the poor wretches bound together, and dying of thirst and
disease, they were still secured to the palm trunks and abandoned to
their fate, tortured by being within sight of the well, yet unable to
slake the frightful thirst consuming them.  Dwellers in the damp, gloomy
forest, where the sunlight never penetrates, the intense heat of the
desert struck them down one after another, sending them insane or
killing them outright.

Time after time Snape turned in his high Arab saddle, glancing back
apprehensively to see if they were followed.  But his partner only
laughed sarcastically, saying--"You still fear your friends the English?
Ah! you have the heart of the chicken.  All is quite unnecessary.  We
have made them a present of the whole lot, and I hope they will
appreciate our kindness.  Now we shall take it easy, and hope for better
fortune with the next batch.  I fancy that the new lash must be too
hard.  The women can't stand it, so it seems."

"A little less whipping and a little more water would keep 'em in better
condition," Snape observed.  "Yakub is eternally lashing them for some
imaginary laziness or offence."

"Yes, it's all due to that new lash," the Belgian admitted.  "It must be
used with less frequency on the next lot."

"It's a revolting punishment.  Twenty blows kill a strong nigger," his
companion declared.  "The thing ought to be thrown away."

"Ah, yes," sneered his companion.  "You would, if you had your own way,
keep women to brash the flies off them, and carry feather-beds for them
to sleep on.  You always forget that you are not dealing with civilised
beings.  They're mere niggers."

"Well, we're not of the most civilised type, you and I, if the unwelcome
truth be told," the Englishman responded.  "If we are trapped there'll
be a howl in Europe."

"But I, for one, don't mean to be caught," laughed the Belgian gaily,
with perfect confidence of his security.  And they both rode side by
side, the troop of white-burnoused Pirates of the Desert thundering on
behind, raising a cloud of dust which, in that clear atmosphere, could
be seen many miles away.

On, on they sped over the burning sand, riding easily at a hand gallop,
without a halt, the black-veiled raiders laughing and chaffing,
chattering, pushing forward, even in the blood-red track of the dying
day.

Night fell quickly, as it does in that region.  The slavers encamped in
a sandy hollow beneath the rocks, and Dubois, ordering the tent to be
pitched, sat smoking with his partner after the dish of _dakkwa_
(pounded Guinea-corn with dates) which old Muhala had prepared.  They
were alone.

"To camp like this before we reach the forest is, to my mind, simply
inviting capture," Snape grumbled.  "The military detachment is
evidently out in search of us, and the little lot we've abandoned will
point out to them the direction we've taken.  Then they'll follow and
overtake us."

"Oh no, they won't," answered the Belgian, with a serene smile.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Remember that, coming up from the river, they must have been at least
six days without water; therefore they'll halt at Akdul to drink and
fill their water-skins before pushing forward."

"Well?" inquired Snape.

The crafty Belgian looked curiously into the face of his companion, and
smiled grimly.

"Well, if they halt there," he said, "they won't trouble us any more."

"I don't understand."

"I doctored the water before we left.  That's why I didn't leave the
blacks loose to drink it."

"What!" gasped the Englishman wildly, starting to his feet.  "You've
actually poisoned the well?"

The Belgian nodded and laughed, without removing his _shisha_ from his
lips.

"You scoundrel!  You fiend!" the Englishman shouted, his face white with
passion.  "I've done some shabby tricks in my time, but, by Heaven!  I'd
rather have given myself up than have assented to the wholesale murder
of my own people like that!"

A sarcastic smile crossed the Belgian's sinister features.

"Excitement is entirely unnecessary, _mon cher_ Henri," he said, calmly.
"It may, you know, bring on a touch of fever.  Besides, by this time
there isn't many of them, white or black, left to tell the tale.  Yakub,
whom I left behind to watch, has just come in to report that they
arrived an hour after we had left, released the slaves, and watered
freely, enjoying themselves immensely.  Before he started to return,
fully fifty were dead or dying, including all the white officers.  But
why trouble further?  We've saved ourselves."

"Trouble!" roared Snape, his eyes flashing with a fierce fire of
indignation, "Get up, you infernal scoundrel, or I'll shoot you as you
lie!  You're an outlaw; so am I.  Trouble!  Why, one of those white
officers was Jack Myddleton, my brother, and," he added in a harsh
tone--"and I'm going to avenge his death!"  Instantly Dubois saw his
partner's intention, and sprang to his feet, revolver in hand.

Two reports sounded almost simultaneously, but only one man fell.  It
was the Belgian, who, with an imprecation on his lips, dropped back with
a bullet through his temple, and in a few seconds expired.

At dawn Muhala discovered her master dead, and his companion missing.
Search was at once made for the Englishman, who was found lying dead
upon the sand half a mile from the camp.

He had committed suicide.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Around the well of Akdul the caravans that water there in crossing the
arid wilderness still see quantities of hones of horses and of men.
Long ago the vultures have stripped them, and they now lie bleaching in
the sun, a mute record of a coward's treachery, of the revolting
vengeance of The Father of the Hundred Slaves.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE MYSTERY OF AFO.

In the mystic haze of the slowly dying day, mounted on a _meheri_, or
swift camel, I carried my long rifle high above my head, and rode
speedily over the great silent wilderness of treacherous, ever-shifting
sand.  Once I drew rein to listen, turning my eyes to the left, where
the distant serrated crests of the mountains of Nanagamma loomed forth
like giant shadows; but as nothing broke the appalling stillness, I, a
mere tribesman then, sped forward again, reaching a small oasis, where I
made my camel kneel, and then dismounted.

As I strode towards the lonely shrine of Sidi Okbar--a small doomed
building constructed of sun-dried mud, under which reposed the remains
of one of our most venerated marabouts--I fear my burnouse was brown,
ragged, and travel-stained; the haick that surrounded my face was torn
and soiled, and upon my feet were rough, heavy slippers, sadly the worse
for wear.  The latter, however, I kicked off on approaching the shrine;
then, kneeling close to the sun-blanched wall, cast sand upon myself,
kissed the earth, and, drawing my palms down my face, repeated the
Testification.  In fervent supplication I bowed repeatedly, and, raising
my voice until it sounded distinct on the still air, invoked the
blessing of Allah.

"O Merciful!  O beneficent Grantor of Requests!"  I cried; "O King of
the day of Faith, guide us, ere to-morrow's sun hath run its course,
into the path that is straight, and leadeth unto the _kasbah_ of our
enemies of Abea.  Strengthen our arms, lead us in times of darkness and
in the hours of day, destroy our enemies, and let them writhe in
Al-Hawiyat, the place prepared for infidels, where their meat shall be
venomous serpents, and they shall slake their thirst with boiling
pitch."

Startled suddenly by a strange sound, I listened with bated breath.  The
thought occurred to me that my words might have been overheard by some
spy, and instinctively my hand drew from my belt my _jambiyah_, the
long, crooked dagger that I always carried.  Again a noise like a
deep-drawn sigh broke the silence, and I sprang to my feet and rushed
round to the opposite side of the building, just in time to see a
fluttering white robe disappearing in the gloom.  Quick as lightning I
sprang towards it, and in twenty paces had overtaken the eavesdropper,
who, with a slight scream, fell to earth beneath my heavy hand.

"Rise!"  I cried, roughly dragging the figure to its feet.  "Thou son of
Eblis!"  Next second, however, I discovered that the fugitive was a
woman, veiled, enshrouded in her haick, and wearing those baggy white
trousers that render the Arab females hideous when out of doors.

"Thou hast overheard my orison," I cried, raising my knife.  "Speak!
speak! or of a verity will I strike!"

But the mysterious woman uttered no word, and in a frenzy of desperation
I tore the veil from her face.

Aghast I stood; the knife fell from my lingers.  The countenance
revealed was amazingly beautiful, so charming, indeed, that instantly I
became entranced by its loveliness, and stood speechless and abashed.

She was not more than eighteen, and her features were regular, with a
fair complexion, a pair of brilliant dark eyes set well apart under
browns blackened by kohl, and a forehead half-hidden by strings of
golden sequins that tinkled musically each time she moved.  Upon her
head was set jauntily a little scarlet _chachia_, trimmed heavily with
seed-pearls, while her neck was encircled by strings of roughly-cut
jacinths and turquoises, and in the folds of her silken haick there
clung the subtle perfumes of the harem.

Slowly she lifted her fine eyes, still wet with tears, to mine, and,
with her breast rising and falling quickly, trembled before me, fearing
my wrath.

"Loosen thy tongue's strings!"  I cried at last, grasping her slim white
wrist with my rough, hard hand.  "Thou art from Afo, the City in the
Sky, and thou hast gained knowledge of our intended attack?"

"Thy lips, O stranger, speak the truth," she faltered.

"Why art thou here, and alone, so far from thine home on the crest of
yonder peak?"  I inquired, gazing at her in wonderment.

"I came hither for the same purpose as thyself," she answered seriously,
looking straight into my face,--"to crave Allah's blessing."

"Art thou a dweller in the house of grief?"  I asked.  "Tell me why thou
didst venture here alone."

She hesitated, toying nervously with the jewelled perfume-bottle
suspended at her breast; then she answered, "I--I am betrothed to a man
I hate.  The Merciful Giver of Blessings alone can rescue me from a fate
that is worse than death--a marriage without love."

"And who is forcing thee into this hateful union?  If it is thy father,
tell me his name?"

"Yes, it is my father.  His name is Abd el Jelil ben Sef e' Nasr, Sultan
of Abea."

"The Sultan!"  I cried in amazement.  "Then thou art Kheira!"  I added,
for the extraordinary beauty of the only daughter of the Sultan of Abea
was proverbial throughout the Great Desert, from Lake Tsad, even to the
Atlas.

"Yes," she replied.  "And from thy speech and dress I know thou art of
the Azjar, our deadliest enemies."

"True," I answered.  "To-morrow my tribe, to the number of ten thousand,
now lying concealed in the valley called Deforou, will swarm upon thine
impregnable city and--"

"Ten thousand?" she gasped, pale and agitated.  "And thou wilt kill my
father, and reduce our people to slavery.  Ah, no!" she added
imploringly.  "Save us, O stranger!  Our fighting men went south one
moon ago to collect the taxes at Dehagada, therefore we are unprotected.
What can I do--how can I act to save my father?"

"Dost thou desire to save him, even though he would force upon thee this
odious marriage?"

"I do," she cried.  "I--I will save the City in the Sky at the cost of
mine own life."

"To whom art thou betrothed," I asked, tenderly taking her hand.

"To the Agha Hassan e Rawi, who dwelleth at Zongra, beyond the
Nanagamma.  He is threescore years and ten, and 'tis said he treateth
his wives with inhuman cruelty.  One of his slaves told me so."

I stood silent and thoughtful.  Though I was a member of a tribe who
existed wholly upon loot obtained from the caravans and towns we
attacked, yet so earnestly did the Sultan's daughter appeal, that all
thought of preserving the secret of our intended attack by murdering her
disappeared, and I found myself deeply in love.  Mine was a poor chance,
however, I told myself.  The proud Sultan of Abea would never consent to
a brigand as a son-in-law, even if she looked upon me with favour.

"To-night, O Daughter of the Sun, we meet as friends; to-morrow as
enemies," I said.  "Our spies have reported that thy city remaineth
undefended, and, alas! there is a blood-feud between my people and
thine; therefore, when the hosts of the Azjar enter with fire and sword,
few, I fear, will be spared.  Wilt thou not remain here with my
tribesmen, and escape?"

"No," she answered proudly.  "I am a woman of Afo, and I will return
unto my people, even though I fall before to-morrow's sundown under thy
merciless swords."

As she spoke, one hand rested upon her supple hip, and with the other
she pointed to the high, shadowy peak whereon stood the great white
stronghold known to the Kanouri people as The City in the Sky.

"But thou, who art like a sun among the stars, knowest our plans, and it
is my duty to kill thee," I said, hitching my burnouse about my
shoulders.

"I am in thine hands.  If thou stainest them with my blood, thou wilt
ever have upon thy conscience the remembrance that thou hast taken the
life of one who was innocent of intrigue.  If thou givest me freedom, I
shall have at least one brief hour of felicity with my people before--
before--"

And she sighed, without concluding the sentence.

"Thou, a fresh rose from the fountain-head of life, art in fear of a
double fate,--the downfall of to-morrow, and the marriage feast next
moon.  Let not thy mind be troubled, for I stretch not forth the tongue
to blame," I said at last, endeavouring to smile.  "In Ahamadou, of the
tribe Azjar, thou hast a devoted friend, and one who may peradventure
assist thee in a manner thou hast not dreamed.  Therefore mount thine
horse and return with all speed to Afo--not, however, before thou hast
given me some little souvenir of this strange meeting."

"Thou slakest my thirst with the beverage of kindness!" she cried in
joy.  "I knew when first I saw thee that thou wert my friend."

"Friend?--nay, lover," I answered gallantly, as, taking her tiny hand
again, I pressed her henna-stained nails softly to my lips.  She blushed
and tried to draw away, but I held her firmly until she withdrew one of
her gold bangles from her wrist, and, with a smile, placed it upon mine.

"Behold!" she exclaimed with a merry, rippling laugh, "it is thy badge
of servitude to me!"

"I am a slave of the most handsome mistress in the world," I said
happily.  Then, urging her to warn the Sultan of the intentions of the
Azjar, I kissed her once tenderly upon the lips, lifted her into the
saddle of her gaily caparisoned horse, and then she twisted her torn
veil about her face, and, giving me "Peace," sped away swift as an arrow
into the darkness, bearing intelligence that would cause the utmost
sensation in the mountain fastness.

"I love her," I murmured, when the sound of her horse's hoofs had died
away.  "But how can I save her?  To-morrow, when we enter Afo and loot
the Palace, she will be secured as slave.  No!"  I cried, "she shall
never fall into Nikale's brutal hands--never while I have breath!"

The sound of whispering caused me to fix my gaze upon a dark shadow
thrown by some ethel-bushes, and next second, half a dozen of my fellow
tribesmen advanced.

"So, dog of a spy! thou hast betrayed us!" cried a voice, which in a
moment I was startled to recognise as that of my enemy Mohammed El
Sfaski.

"Yes," the others shouted with one accord; "we watched the son of offal
speaking with the woman, and we overheard him telling her to warn the
Sultan!"

"Follow her on the wings of haste!" cried El Sfaski.  "Kill her, for
death alone will place the seal of muteness upon the lips of such a
jade."  And in a few seconds two black-veiled figures vaulted into their
saddles and tore past in the direction Kheira had disappeared.

"Speak!" thundered El Sfaski, who, with the others, had now surrounded
me.  "Knowest thou the punishment of traitors?"

"Yes," I answered, hoarsely.

"Who is the woman whose blackness and deceit hath captivated thee?"

Three rapid shots sounded in the distance.  The men had evidently
overtaken and murdered the daughter of the Sultan!

I held my breath.

"I--I refuse to give thee answer," I said, resolutely.

"By Allah! thou art a traitor to our lord and to our tribe, and of a
verity thou hast also the eye of perfection.  Therefore shalt thou die!"
Then, turning to the others, he added--

"We have no time to bandy words with this accursed son of the Evil One.
Tie him to yon tree, and let the vultures feast upon their carrion."

With loud imprecations the men seized me, tore off my haick and
burnouse, and bound me securely to a palm trunk in such a position that
I could only see the great expanse of barren sand.  Then, with that
refinement of cruelty of which the nomadic Azjar are past-masters, they
smeared my face, hands, and feet with date-juice, to attract the ants
and other insects; and, after jeering at me and condemning me to
everlasting perdition and sempiternal culpability, they remounted their
horses, and, laughing heartily, left me alone to wait the end.

Through the long, silent night, with arms and legs bound so tightly that
I could not move them, I remained, wondering what terrible fate had
befallen the beautiful girl who had overheard my orison.  My two
clansmen had not returned.  I knew the men were splendid riders,
therefore it was more than probable that they had very quickly overtaken
her.  Utterly hopeless, well knowing that to the blazing sun and the
agonies of being half-devoured by insects I must very soon succumb, I
waited, my ears on the alert to catch every sound.

In the sky a saffron streak showed on the edge of the sandy plain,
heralding the sun's coming.  I watched it gradually spread, knowing that
each moment brought me nearer to an end of agony.  I lifted my voice in
supplication to Allah, and showered voluble curses upon the expedition
about to be attempted by my tribe.  The pale, handsome face of Kheira
was ever before me, haunting me like a half-remembered dream, its beauty
fascinating me, and even causing me to forget the horror of those hours
of dawn.

Saffron changed to rose, and rose to gold, until the sun shone out,
lighting up the trackless waste.  The flies, awakened, began to torment
me, and I knew that the merciless rays beating down upon my uncovered
head would quickly produce the dreaded delirium of madness.  The furnace
heat of sunshine grew intense as noon approached, and I was compelled to
keep my eyes closed to avoid the blinding glare.

Suddenly a noise fell upon my ear.  At first it sounded like a low,
distant rumbling; but soon my practised ears detected that it was the
rattle of musketry and the din of tom-toms.

The City in the Sky was being attacked!  My tribesmen had arranged to
deliver the assault at noon, but what puzzled me was a sullen booming at
frequent intervals.  It was the sound of cannon, and showed plainly that
Afo was being defended!

From where I was I could see nothing of it.  Indeed, the base of the
mountain was eight miles distant, and the city, perched upon its summit,
could only be approached from the opposite side by a path that was
almost inaccessible.  Yet hour after hour the rapid firing continued,
and it was evident a most desperate battle was being fought.  This
puzzled me, for had not Kheira said that the city was totally
undefended?  Still, the tumult of battle served to prevent me from
lapsing into unconsciousness; and not until the sun sank in a brilliant,
blood-red blaze did the firing cease.  Then all grew silent again.  The
hot poison-wind from the desert caused the feathery heads of the palms
to wave like funeral plumes, and night crept on.  The horrible torture
of the insects, the action of the sun upon my brain, the hunger, the
thirst, and the constant strain of the nerves, proved too much; and I
slept, haunted by spectral horrors, and a constant dread of the
inevitable--that half-consciousness precursory of death.

So passed the second night, until the sun reappeared; but mine eyes
opened not.  The heat of the blazing noon caused me no concern, neither
did the two great grey vultures that were hovering over me; for it was
not until I heard voices in the vicinity that I gazed around.

One voice, louder than the others, was uttering thanks to Allah.  I
listened; then, summoning all my strength that remained, I cried aloud,
in the name of the One Merciful, for assistance.

There were sounds of hurrying footsteps, voices raised in surprise, a
woman's scream, and then objects, grotesquely distorted, whirled around
me, and I knew no more.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I again opened my weary, fevered eyes, I was amazed to find myself
lying upon a soft, silken divan in a magnificent apartment, with slaves
watching, ready to minister to my wants.  I took a cooling draught from
a crystal goblet handed to me, then raised myself, and inquired where I
was.  The slaves made no reply, but, bowing low, left.  Then in a few
moments the _frou-frou_ of silk startled me, and next second I leaped to
my feet, and, with a cry of joy, clasped Kheira in my arms.

In her gorgeous harem dress of pale rose silk, with golden bejewelled
girdle, she looked bewitching, though around her eyes were dark rings
that betrayed the anxiety of the past few days.  As our lips met in hot,
passionate kisses, she was followed by a tall, stately, dark-bearded man
of matchless bearing, whose robe was of amaranth silk, and who wore in
his head-dress a magnificent diamond aigrette.  Kheira saw him, and
withdrawing herself from my embrace, introduced me to her father, the
Sultan of Abea.

"To thee I owe my life and my kingdom," said the potentate, giving me
"Peace," and wringing my hand warmly.  "Kheira hath related unto me the
mercy thou didst show towards her; and it was thy word of warning that
enabled us to repel and defeat the Azjar."

"Then thou, didst escape, O signet of the sphere of elegance!"  I cried,
turning to the Sultan's daughter.

"Yes; though I was hard pressed by two of thine horsemen, I took the
secret path, and thus were they baffled."

"The Director of Fate apprised our fighting men of our danger," said the
Sultan; "and they returned on the same night.  The breeze of grace blew;
the sun of the favour of Allah shone.  The news brought by Kheira was
quickly acted upon, and the defences of the city so strengthened, that
when at noon the assault was delivered, our cannon swept thy tribesmen
from the pass like grains of sand before the sirocco.  For six hours
they fought; but their attempts to storm the city gate were futile, and
the handful of survivors were compelled to retire, leaving nearly five
hundred prisoners, including your Sheikh himself, in our hands."

"And how was I rescued?"  I inquired, after briefly explaining how my
conversation with Kheira had been overheard.

"On the day following the fight, we went unto the shrine of Sidi Okbar
to render thanks to Allah, and there found thee dying of heat and
thirst.  Thou didst sacrifice thy life to save our ruler and his city,
therefore we brought thee hither," she said.

Then, taking my hands, the Sultan added, "Thou hast the verdure of the
meadows of life.  May Allah preserve thee, and grant unto thee long
years of perfect peace, and an eternal rose-garden of happiness.  Wipe
off the rust of _ennui_ and fatigue from the speculum of thy mind, and
follow me; for a feast is already prepared for the celebration of this
victory."

And we passed onward through the private pavilions--bewildering in their
magnificence of marble and gold, and green with many leaves--to the
Great Hall of the Divan, where, standing under the royal baldachin of
yellow silk brocade, the Sultan of Abea rejoiced me with his favours,
proclaiming me, Ahamadou, tribes man of the Azjar, the Saviour of the
City in the Sky.

No Touareg has ever contracted marriage with an Arab; therefore, after
tarrying in Afo for many moons, I made peace with my people and returned
unto them, for the wild life of the limitless sands was more congenial
to me than the ease and perfumes of palaces and the favours of kings.

THE THRONE OF THE GREAT TORTURE.

Far south, beyond the Atlas Mountains, beyond that great, limitless
plain of the Talidat where nothing meets the aching eye but a dreary
waste of red-brown, drifting sand, one experiences some curious phases
of a life comparatively unknown, and little understood in European
civilisation.  There, life to-day is the same as it was ten centuries
ago--the same as it will ever be: free and charming in its simplicity,
yet with many terrors ever present, and sun-bleached bones ever
reminding the lonely traveller that a pricked water-skin means the end
of all things.

The Veiled Man--by William Le Queux

On a journey alone from Biskra to Mourzouk, in Fezzan, I foolishly
disregarded the injunctions of my fellow tribesmen, and was rendered
extremely uncomfortable by the astounding discovery that the camel
caravan I had joined in Zaouia Timassanin, and with which I had been
travelling for twenty days, belonged to the Kel-Izhaban, a tribe of
marauders and outlaws with whom we had had for years a fierce
blood-feud, and whose depredations and relentless butchery of their
weaker neighbours caused them to be held in awe from Morocco across to
Tripoli, and from Biskra to Lake Tsad.  In addition, I ascertained that
the Sheikh, known to me as Sidi El-Adil, or "The Just," was really none
other than Abdul-Melik, like myself, a pirate of the desert, against
whom the French Government had sent three expeditions, and upon whose
head a price had been set.

With bronzed, aquiline features, long grey beard, and keen, deep-set
eyes; tall, erect, agile, and of commanding presence, he was a splendid
specimen of the true-bred Arab of the plains.  Though he expressed
intense hatred for the Infidel, and invoked curses most terrible upon
the horsemen of the Roumis in general, and those of the Azjar in
particular, he, nevertheless, treated me with haughty courtesy, and
extended to me the hand of friendship.  As, at the head of our cavalcade
of two hundred armed horsemen and a long string of camels, he rode day
by day across the parched wilderness, interspersed by small sand-hills
and naked ledges of rock, speckled with ethel-bushes half overwhelmed by
sand, he was truly an imposing figure.  His burnouse was of finest white
wool, embroidered heavily with silk; the haick surrounding his face was
of spotless china-silk, and around his head was wound many yards of
brown camel's hair.  The saddle upon which he sat was of crimson velvet,
embroidered with gold and set with precious stones, and stirrups and
spurs of massive silver completed the trappings of his splendid
coal-black horse, which he managed with rare perfection and skill.  On
my white Ku-hai-lan stallion, I usually rode at his side, chatting to
him in his own tongue, while two hundred of his people, erect in their
saddles, and with their long-barrelled rifles slung behind, were ready
to instantly execute his slightest wish.

The days were breathless and blazing.  Scorched by the sun, and
half-suffocated by the sand-laden wind, our way lay through a wilderness
that Nature had forsaken.  At night, however, when the outlaws of the
desert had cast sand upon their feet and prayed their _maghrib_, and we
had encamped under the palms of the oasis, eaten our dates and
kouss-kouss, and slaked our thirst from our water-skins, then commenced
the real luxury of the day--the luxury of idleness--as, reclining on a
mat in front of the Sheikh's tent, with coffee and a cigarette, the
great Abdul-Melik would relate with slow distinctness stories of past
encounters between his people and the hated Christians.

While sentries with loaded rifles kept a vigilant look-out lest we
should be surprised by the ever-watchful Spahis or Chasseurs, half--a--
dozen Arabs would squat in a semicircle before the great Sheikh, and,
twanging upon their queer little banjos fashioned from tortoise-shells
over which skin is stretched, would chant weirdly, in a strange
staccato, Arab songs of love and war.  At that hour a coolness falls
over everything, intense silence reigns, the sky above grows a deeper
and deeper blue, and the palms and talha trees look mysterious in the
half-light.  Soon the stars shine out like diamond points, and it grows
darker and darker, until the chill night-breeze of the desert stirs the
feathery heads of the date-palms.  Then the lawless nomads, my
companions, would wrap their burnouses closely about them, scoop out a
hole in the warm sand, and there repose until the first flush of dawn.

About five weeks after I had inadvertently thrown in my lot with the
Kel-Izhaban, and after penetrating a region that, as far as I am aware,
has never been explored by Europeans--for it remains a blank upon the
most recent map issued by the French Depot de la Guerre--we were one
evening, at a spot evidently pre-arranged, joined by a body of three
hundred horsemen, who armed themselves with the rifles they obtained
from our camel's packs, and then, leaving the camels in charge of
half-a-dozen men in a rocky valley called the Anzoua, we all continued
our way in high spirits, jesting, laughing, and singing snatches of
songs.  Throughout that night, and during the following day, we rode at
the same steady pace, with only brief halts that were absolutely
necessary.  On the second night darkness fell swiftly, but the moon
rose, and under its bright mystic light we sped forward, until suddenly
the gaunt man, in a dirty, ragged burnouse, who acted as our guide,
shouted, and we pulled up quickly.  Then, in the moonlight, I could just
distinguish among the trees of the little oasis a few low, white houses,
of what I subsequently learned was the little desert village of Tilouat,
inhabited by the Kel-Emoghri, and distant ten leagues from the town of
Ideles.

Abdul-Melik shouted an order, clear and distinct, whereupon the horsemen
spread themselves out in two long lines, and with their guns carried
across their saddles, the first line crept slowly and silently forward.
By this movement I knew that we were about to attack the village, and
held my own rifle ready for purposes of self-defence.  Sitting in the
second line, I advanced with the others, and the breathless moments that
followed were full of excitement.

Suddenly a shot startled us, and at the same moment a muttered curse
fell from the Sheikh's lips as he saw that our presence had been
detected, for the shot had been fired in the village as a sound of
warning.  Almost instantly it was apparent that we had been betrayed,
for a great body of horsemen galloped out to meet us, and in a few
moments I found myself lying behind my horse pouring forth volley after
volley from my rifle.

The fusillade was deafening, and for fully half an hour it was kept up.
About twenty of our men had been killed or wounded, when suddenly the
first line rose with loud shouts as if they were one man, and, mounting,
rode straight at their opponents, while we followed at headlong speed
upon our enemies almost ere they had time to realise our intention.  The
melee was awful.  Swords, rifles, and keen, crooked _jambiyahs_ were
used with terrible effect, but very soon all resistance was at an end,
and the work of looting the village commenced.

Half demented by excitement and success, my companions entered the
houses, shot down the women with relentless cruelty, tore from them what
little jewellery they possessed, and plundered, wrecked, and burned
their homes out of sheer delight in destruction.  I stood watching the
terrible scene, but unable to avert the great calamity that had fallen
so swiftly upon the peaceful little place.  The fiendishness of our
enemies had, alas! not been exaggerated.  Abdul-Melik laughed gleefully,
uttering some words as he rode past me swift as the wind.  But I heeded
him not; I loathed, despised, and hated him.

While dawn spread in rosy streaks, the work of plunder still proceeded,
but when the sun shone forth, only the smoke-blackened walls of Tilouat
remained standing.  The plunder was quickly packed upon our horses, and
soon afterwards we rode off, carrying with us twenty men and women who
had been captured, all of whom would eventually find their way into the
great slave-market, far away at Mourzouk.

At sundown, five days afterwards, we descended into a rocky valley, and
suddenly came upon a wonderful mass of scattered ruins, of amazing
magnitude and extent, which Abdul-Melik told me were the remains of a
forgotten city called Tihodayen, and as we approached, I saw by the
massive walls of hewn stone, the fallen columns half embedded in the
sand, and by an inscription over an arched door, that they were relics
of the Roman occupation.  When we dismounted, I found that the ruined
city gave shelter to the outlaws, and was their habitual hiding-place.

An hour later, reclining on mats under the wall of what had once been a
great palace, the outlaw Sheikh and myself ate our evening meal of
_saubusaj, beryseh_, and _luzinyeh_, and drank copiously of _dushab_,
that luscious date-syrup which is so acceptable after the heat and
burden of the Saharan day, while my companions feasted and made merry,
for it appeared that they kept stores of food concealed there.

On commencing to smoke, Abdul-Melik ordered that the captives should be
brought before him, and when, a few minutes later, they were ushered
into his presence, they, with one exception, fell upon their knees,
grovelled, and cried aloud for mercy.  The single captive who begged no
favour was a young, dark-haired girl of exquisite beauty, with black,
piercing eyes, pretty, dimpled cheeks, and a complexion of almost
European fairness.  She wore a zouave of crimson velvet heavily
embroidered with gold, a heavy golden girdle confined her waist, and her
wide trousers were of palest rose-pink silk, while her tiny feet were
thrust into velvet slippers of green embroidered with gold thread.  But
her dress had been torn in the fierce struggle with her pitiless
captors, and as she stood, erect and defiant, with her hands secured
behind her with a leathern thong, she cast at us a glance full of
withering scorn.

The Sheikh raised his hand to command silence, but as her
fellow-captives continued wailing, he ordered the removal of all but
this girl, who apparently set him at defiance.  Turning his keen eyes
upon her, he noted how extremely handsome she was, and while she
returned his gaze unflinchingly, her beauty held me in fascination.  In
all my journeys in the Land of the Sun I had never before seen such an
absolutely perfect face.

"Who art thou?" demanded the dreaded chief, roughly.  "What is thy
name?"

"I am called Khadidja Fathma, daughter of Ali Ben Ushshami, cadi of
Ideles," she answered, in a firm, defiant tone.

"Ali Ben Ushshami!" echoed Abdul-Melik, knitting his brows fiercely.
"Thou art his daughter; the daughter of the accursed son of offal who
endeavoured to betray me into the hands of the Roumis," he cried,
exultantly.  "I have kindled the lights of knowledge at the flambeau of
prophecy, and I vowed that I would ere many moons seek vengeance."

"I have anticipated this thy wrath ever since thine horde of cowardly
ruffians laid hands upon me," she answered, with a contemptuous toss of
her pretty head.  "But the daughter of the cadi of Ideles craveth not
mercy from a servant of Eblis."

"Darest thou insult me, wench?" he cried, pale with passion, and
starting up as if to strike her.  "Thou art the child of the man who
would have given me into the hands of the Spahis for the sake of the two
bags of gold offered for my head.  I will return his good offices by
sending him to-morrow a present he will perhaps appreciate, the present
of thine own hands.  He will then be convinced that Abdul-Melik knoweth
how to repay those who seek to injure him."

"Dost thou intend to strike off my hands?" she gasped, pale as death,
nevertheless making a strenuous effort to remain calm.

"At sunrise the vultures will feast upon thee, and thine hands will be
on their way to Ideles," he answered, with a sinister smile playing
about his hard mouth.

"Malec hath already set his curse upon thee," she said, "and by each
murder thou committest so thou createst for thyself a fresh torture in
Al-Hawiyat, where thy food will be offal and thou wilt slake thy thirst
with boiling pitch.  True, I have fallen captive into thine hands,
having journeyed to Tilouat to see my father's mother who was dying; but
thinkest thou that I fear thee?  No!" she added with flashing eyes.
"Though the people dread thee as the great and powerful Chief, I despise
thee and all thy miserable parasites.  If thou smitest off mine hands,
it is but the same punishment as thou hast meted out to others of my
sex.  Thou art, after all, a mere coward who maketh war upon women."

"Silence, jade!" he cried, in a tumult of passion, and, turning to the
men beside him, commanded: "Take her away, secure her alone till dawn,
and then let her hands be struck off and brought to me."

Roughly the men dragged her away, but ere she went she cast at us a look
of haughty scornfulness, and, shrugging her shoulders, treated this
terrible mandate with ineffable disdain.

"The jade's hands shall be sent to her father, the Cadi, as a souvenir
of the interest he taketh in my welfare," the Sheikh muttered aloud.
"Her tongue will never again utter rebuke or insult.  Verily, Allah hath
delivered her into my hands a weapon to use against mine enemies."

I uttered eager words of intercession, pointing out the cruelty of
taking her young life, but he only laughed derisively, and I was
compelled to sit beside him while the other captives were questioned and
inspected.

That night I sought repose in a shed that had been erected in a portion
of the ruins, but found sleep impossible.  The defiantly beautiful face
of the young girl who was to die at dawn kept recurring to me with
tantalising vividness, and at length I rose, determined if possible to
save her.  Noiselessly I crept out, my footsteps muffled by the sand,
saddled one of Abdul-Melik's own horses, and without attracting the
notice of either sentry on duty at each end of the encampment, I entered
the ruin where, confined to an iron ring in the masonry by a leathern
band, she crouched silent and thoughtful.

"_Fi amani-illah_!"  I whispered, as I approached.  "I come to have
speech with thee, and assist thee to escape."

"Art thou a friend?" she inquired, struggling to her feet and peering at
me in the gloom.

"Yes, one who is determined that the outlaw's command shall never be
executed," and taking the _jambiyah_ from my girdle, I severed the
thongs that confined her hands and ankles, and next second she was free.

Briefly I explained how I had saddled a fleet horse and placed a
saddle-bag with food upon it.

"If I get safely away I shall owe my life to you," she said, with
intense gratitude, pressing my hand for an instant to her quivering
lips.  "I know this place, and ere two moons can have risen I can travel
through the rocky defile and be at my father's house in Ideles.  Tell me
thy name, so that my father may know who was his daughter's liberator."

I told her, and in the same hasty breath asked for some souvenir.

"Alas!  I have nothing," she answered; "nothing but a strange ornament
which my father's mother gave to me immediately before she died, an hour
previous to the attack being made upon the village," and placing her
hand deep into the breast of her dress she drew forth a rough disc of
copper, about the size of a crown piece, with a hole in it, as if it had
been strung upon a thread.

"When she gave it to me she told me it had been in her possession for
years, that it was a talisman against terror, and that some curious
legend was attached to it, the nature of which I do not now recollect.
There is strange writing upon it in some foreign tongue of the Roumis
that no one has been able to decipher."

I looked, but unable to detect anything in the darkness, I assured her
that its possession would always remind me of her, and slipped it into
the pocket of my gandoura.

Then together we crept along under the shadow of the wall, and, gaining
the spot where the horse stood in readiness, I held her for a second
while she kissed my hand, uttering a fervent word of thanks, and
afterwards assisted her into the saddle.  Then a moment later, with a
whispered "_Allah iselemeck_!" she sped away, with her unbound hair
flying behind her, and was instantly lost in the darkness.

On realising that she had gone I was seized with regret, but feeling
that at least I had saved her from a horrible doom, I returned to my
little shed and, wrapping myself in my burnouse, slept soundly until the
sun had risen high in the heavens.

Opening my eyes, I at once remembered Khadidja's quaint souvenir, and on
examining it, was astonished to find both obverse and reverse of the
roughly fashioned disc covered with an inscription in English crudely
engraved, or rather scratched, apparently with the point of a knife.
Investigating it closely I was enabled, after some difficulty, for I
have only an elementary knowledge of the tongue of the Roumis, to read
the following surprising words:--

"_This record I leave for the person into whose hands it may fall, for I
am starving.  Whosoever reads this let him hasten to Zemnou, in the
Zelaf Desert, two days from the well of El Ameima, and from the
Bab-el-Oued pace twenty steps westward outside the city wall, and under
the second bastion let him dig.  There will he be rewarded.  John Edward
Chatteris, held captive in the Kasbah of Borku by order of the Sultan
'Othman, Sunday, June 13, 1843_."

Chatteris!  Instantly it occurred to me that a celebrated English
explorer, archaeologist, and member of the Royal Geographical Society of
that name, had years ago been lost, and his fate had remained a complete
mystery.  Inquiries for news of him had been circulated throughout the
great Desert among the wandering tribes, with an offer of a reward.
This, then, was a message inscribed, with apparent difficulty within the
impregnable citadel of the warrior Sultan of Borku, whose little
mountain kingdom was situate five hundred miles south of Mourzouk,
between the Tibesti Mountains and Lake Tsad; a secret that for half a
century had been in the keeping of those who could not decipher it.

What might not be buried at the spot indicated by this curious relic of
the great traveller?  My curiosity was excited to the utmost.  Impatient
to investigate the truth, but compelled, nevertheless, to remain patient
until such time as I could escape from my undesirable companions, I
concealed the disc and rose to join Abdul-Melik at his morning meal.

Khadidja's escape caused the old outlaw intense chagrin, and his anger
knew no bounds, but luckily no suspicion fell upon me, and having
remained with them during two whole moons I succeeded one day, when we
were near the town of Rhat, in evading them and getting away.  As
quickly as possible I returned to In Salah, where I exhibited the metal
disc with its strange inscription to our three headmen, who became at
once interested in it, announcing their intention to accompany me next
day to investigate the truth of the engraved record.

With an escort of twenty of our men, all well mounted and armed, we rode
out of In Salah at dawn, and for nine days continued our journey across
the desert due eastward, first taking the caravan route to Tarz Oulli,
beyond the French boundary, and continuing through the rocky region of
the Ihehaonen and across the Djedid Oasis, until one evening, at the
_maghrib_ hour, the high white walls and three tall minarets of the
desert city of Zemnou came within view.  It was unsafe to take our men
nearer, therefore we returned and bivouacked until darkness set in.
Then, dressed in the haick and burnouse of the Arab of the plain, the
three headmen with myself, carrying spades concealed beneath our flowing
drapery, approached the town and crept under the shadow of the walls,
until we reached the Bab-el-Oued, or principal gate.  Guarded by strong
watch-towers on either side, the gate was closed, and silently we crept,
anxious and breathless, on over the sand westward until we had counted
twenty paces and reached the second bastion.

Then, after glancing eagerly around to reassure ourselves that we were
not observed, we all five commenced to dig beneath the wall.  Discovery,
we knew, would mean death.  The sand was loose, but full of stones, and
for some time we worked without result.  Indeed, I began to fear that
someone had already been able to decipher the record and obeyed its
injunctions, when suddenly the spade of one of my companions struck
something hard, and he uttered an ejaculation.  With one accord we
worked with a will, and within ten minutes were unearthing an object of
extraordinary shape.

At first it puzzled us considerably, but at length, when we had cleared
the earth sufficiently to remove it, we made a cursory examination by
the aid of wax tapers, and discovered that it was a kind of stool with a
semi-circular seat, supported by six short columns of twisted gold in
imitation of serpents, the seat itself being of gold inlaid with many
precious stones, while the feet consisted of six great yellow topazes,
beautifully cut and highly polished, held in the serpents' mouths.  The
gold had become dimmed by long contact with the earth, but the gems, as
we rubbed off the dirt that clung to them, gleamed and sparkled in the
tapers' fitful rays.

The stool, or throne, was so heavy that it was with difficulty two men
dragged it out of the trench, and breathless with anxiety we all lent a
willing hand to carry it over the five miles of open desert to where the
men were awaiting us.  Our arrival was greeted with cheers, but quickly
the strange relic was wrapped in saddlebags and secured upon the back of
a spare horse.  At once we set out on the first stage of our return
journey, reaching In Salah in safety ten days later, and learning with
satisfaction on our arrival that Abdul-Melik had, during our absence,
been killed in a skirmish with the French Spahis in the Ahaggar.

Not until I had sent the jewelled seat to England, through an Arab
merchant whom I knew in Algiers, and it was exhibited before a meeting
of the Royal Geographical Society, was I aware of its real antiquarian
value.  From the letters sent home by the intrepid Dr Chatteris, and
still preserved in the archives of the Society, it appeared that during
1839 Salman, the great Sheikh of Aujila, assembled a formidable
following, and proclaiming himself Sultan of Tunis, led an expedition
through the country, extorting money from the people by reason of
horrible tortures and fearful barbarities.  While sentencing his
unfortunate victims, he always used a curiously-shaped judgment-seat,
which, for ages, had been the property of the Sultans of Sokoto, and it
thus became known and dreaded as the Throne of the Great Torture, it
only being used on occasions when he sentenced the unfortunate wretches
to torture for the purpose of extracting from them knowledge of where
their wealth was concealed.

Against this fierce rebel the Bey of Tunis was compelled to send a great
expedition, and after several sanguinary encounters at Sinaun, and in
the Um-el-Cheil, he was utterly routed and killed in his own stronghold
at Aujila.  Dr Chatteris, in the last letter received from him,
mentioned that he had secured the jewelled throne, but that on account
of the superstitions of the Arabs it was an extremely difficult matter
to convey it to the coast.

Fearing lest he should lose it, he had apparently buried it, and soon
afterwards unfortunately fell into the hands of the Sultan of Borku, who
held him captive until his death.

Khadidja is still living in Ideles, where she is happily married to the
younger son of the Governor, but in the seclusion of her harem she is
still in ignorance that, by the curious little souvenir with which she
rewarded me, she added to England's national collection of antiquities a
valuable and highly interesting relic.

Visitors to the British Museum will experience but little difficulty in
finding it, for in the Oriental section at the present moment one of the
most frequently inspected and greatly admired treasures is the quaint,
historic, and bejewelled Throne of the Great Torture.

The End.








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