A Soldier of the Legion
Page 24
CHAPTER XXIII
"WHERE THE STRANGE ROADS GO DOWN"
Shadows of evening flowed over the desert like blue water out of whosedepths rose the golden crowns of the dunes. The caravan had still somemiles of sand billows between them and Touggourt, when suddenly a faintthrill of sound, which might have been the waking dream of a tiredbrain, or a trick of wind, a sound scarcely louder than heart-throbs,grew definite and distinct: the distant beating of African drums, theshriek of raeitas, and the sighing of ghesbahs. The Arabs on their camelscame crowding round Max, who led the caravan, riding beside Sanda'smehari.
"Sidi," said their leader, "this music is not of earth, for Touggourt istoo distant for us to hear aught from there. It is the devil. It comesfrom under the dunes. Such music we have heard in the haunted desertwhere the great caravan was buried beneath the sands, but here it is thefirst time, and it is a warning of evil. Something terrible is about tohappen. What shall we do--stop here and pray, though the sunset prayeris past, or go on?"
"Go on, of course," ordered Max. "As for the music, it must be that thewind brings it from Touggourt."
"It is not possible, Sidi," the camel-man, husband of Khadra, persisted."Besides, there is no great feastday at this time, not even a weddingor a circumcision, or we should have heard before we started away thatit was to be. Such playing, if from the hands of man, would mean somegreat event."
Even as he spoke the music grew louder and wilder. Max hurried thecaravan on as fast as it could go among the sand billows, fearing thatthe Arabs' superstition might cause a stampede. With every stride of thecamels' long, four-jointed legs, the music swelled; and at the crest ofa higher dune than any they had climbed, Sanda, leaning out of herbassourah, gave a cry.
"A caravan--oh! but a huge caravan like an army," she exclaimed, "orlike a troop of ghosts. What if--what if it should be Sir Knight juststarting away?"
"I think it is he," Max answered heavily. "I think it must be Stantongetting off."
"We shall meet him. I can wish him good-bye and Godspeed! Soldier" (thiswas the name she had given Max), "it does seem as if heaven must havetimed our coming and his going for this moment."
"Or the devil," Max amended bitterly in his heart. But aloud he saidnothing. He knew that if he had spoken Sanda would not have heard himthen.
"Let's hurry on," she begged, "and meet him--and surprise him. He can'tbe angry. He must be glad for father's sake, if not for mine. Oh! come,Soldier, come, or I will go alone!"
The man whose duty it was to guide her camel had dropped behind, as hadoften happened before at her wish and Max's order, for the mehari was awell-trained and gentle beast, knowing by instinct the right thing todo. Now Sanda leaned far out and touched him on the neck. Squatting inthe way of camels brought up among dunes, he slid down the side of a biggolden billow, sending up a spray of sand as he descended. Below lay avalley, where the blue dusk poured in its tide; and marching through theazure flood a train of dark forms advanced rhythmically, as if moving tothe music which they had outstripped. It was a long procession of menand camels bearing heavy loads, so long that the end of it had not yetcome into sight behind the next sand billow; but at its head a man rodeon a horse, alone, with no one at his side. Already it was too dark tosee his face, but Max knew who it was. He _felt_ the man's identity withan instinct as unerring as Sanda's.
Also he longed to hasten after her and catch up with the running camel,as he could easily do, for his horse, though more delicate and not asenduring, could go faster. But, though Sanda had cried "Come!" he heldback. She had hardly known what she said. She did not want him to bewith her when she met Stanton; and if he--Max--wished to be there, itwas a morbid wish. Whether Stanton were kind or unkind to the girl, he,the outsider, would suffer more than he need let himself suffer, sincehe was not needed and would only be in the way. Riding slowly andkeeping back the men of his own little caravan, who wished to dashforward now their superstitious fears were put to flight, Max sawStanton rein up his horse as the mehari, bearing a woman's bassourah,loped toward him; saw him stop in surprise, and then, no doubtrecognizing the face framed by the curtains, jump off his horse andstride forward through the silky mesh of sand holding out his arms. Thenext instant he had the girl in them, was lifting her down withoutwaiting for the camel to kneel, for she had sprung to him as if from thecrest of a breaking wave; and Max bit back an oath as he had to seeAhmara's lover crush Sanda DeLisle against his breast.
It was only for an instant, perhaps, but for Max it was a red-hoteternity. He forgot his resolution to efface himself, and whipped hishorse forward. By the time he had reached the two figures in the sand,however, the big, square-shouldered man in khaki and the slim girl inwhite had a little space between them. Stanton had released Sanda fromhis arms and set her on her feet; but he held both the little whitehands in his brown ones; and now that Max was near he could see a lookon the square sunburnt face which might have won any woman, even if shehad not been his in heart already. Max himself was thrilled by it. Herealized as he had realized in Algiers, but a thousand times morekeenly, the vital, compelling magnetism of the man.
No need for Sanda to wonder whether "Sir Knight" would be glad to seeher! He was glad, brutally glad it seemed to Max, as the lion might beglad after long, lonely ways to chance upon his young and willing mate.
"Curse him! How dare he look at her like that, after Ahmara!" thoughtMax. His blood sang in his ears like the wicked voice of the raeitafollowing the caravan. All that was in him of primitive man yearned todash between the two and snatch Sanda from Stanton. But the soldier inhim, which discipline and modern conventions had made, held him back.Sanda was Mademoiselle DeLisle, the daughter of his colonel. He who hadbeen Max Doran was now nobody save Maxime St. George, a little corporalin the Foreign Legion, with hardly enough money left to buy cigarettes.Ahmara had been an episode. Now the episode was over, and in allprobability Sanda, like most women, would have forgiven it if she knew.She was happy in Stanton's overmastering look. She did not feel it aninsult, or dream that the devouring flame in the blue eyes was only aspurt of new fire in the ashes of a burnt-out passion.
She must be mistaking it for love, and her heart must be shaken toecstasy by the surprise and joy of the miracle. Max knew that if herudely rode up to them in this, Sanda's great moment, nothing he couldsay or do would really part them, even if he were cad enough to speak ofAhmara, the dancer. Sanda would not believe, or else she would not care;and always, for the rest of her life, she would hate him. He pulled uphis horse as he thought, and sat as though he were in chains. He was,according to his reckoning, out of earshot, but Stanton's deep baritonehad the carrying power of a 'cello. Max heard it say in a tone to reacha woman's heart: "Child! You come to me like a white dove. God blessyou! I needed you. I don't know whether I can let you go."
Slowly Max turned his horse's head, and still more slowly rode back tothe caravan which he had halted fifty feet away. For an instant he hopedagainst hope that Sanda would hear the sound of his going, that shewould look after him and call. But deep down in himself he knew that nogirl in her place, feeling as she felt, would have heard a cannon-shot.He explained to the astonished men that this was the great explorer, theSidi who found new countries where no other white men had ever been,and the young Roumia lady had known him ever since she was a child. TheSidi was starting out on a dangerous expedition, and it was well thatchance had brought them together, for now the daughter of the explorer'soldest friend could bid him good-bye. They must wait until the farewellhad been given, then they would go on again.
The camel-men assented politely, without comment. But Max heard Khadrasay to her husband, "It is the Sidi who loved Ahmara. One would think hehad forgotten her now. Or is it that he tries this way to forget?"
Max wished angrily that his ears were less quick, and that he had notsuch a useless facility for picking up words out of every _patois_.
Half an hour passed, and the blue shadows deepened to purple. It wasnight, and Touggourt mile
s away. Still the two were talking, and thedarkness had closed around them like the curtains of a tent. They hadhalted not only the little caravan returning from the south, but thegreat caravan starting for the far southeast. Nothing was of importanceto Stanton and Sanda except each other and themselves. Max hatedStanton, yet was fascinated by the thought of him: virile, magnetic,compelling; a man among men; greater than his fellows, as the greatstars above, flaming into life, were brighter than their dim brothers.
The music, which still throbbed and screamed its notes of passion in thedesert, seemed to be beating in Max's brain. A horrible irritationpossessed him like a devil. He could have yelled as a man might yell inthe extremity of physical torture. If only that music would stop!
When he had almost reached the limit of endurance there came a softpadding of feet in the sand and a murmur of voices. Then he saw Stantonwalking toward him with the girl. Sanda called to him timidly, yet witha quiver of excitement in her voice:
"Monsieur St. George, mon ami!"
Not "Soldier" now! That phase was over. Max got off his horse and walkedto meet the pair.
"You know each other," Sanda said. "I introduced you last March inAlgiers. And perhaps you met again here in Touggourt with my father, notmany days ago. I've told Mr. Stanton all about you now, mon ami; heknows how good you have been. He knows how I--confided things to you Inever told to anybody else. Do you remember, Monsieur St. George, mysaying how, when I was small, I used to long to run away dressed like aboy, and go on a desert journey with Richard Stanton? Well, my wish hascome true! Not about the boy's clothes, but--_I am going with him_! Hehas asked me to be his wife, and I have said 'yes.'"