We emerged among the foothills on the third day, and before noon passed a landmark in the way of an old Roman well, now dry and abandoned. It had once been a large cavity, walled up with huge layers of stone, and I imagined it must originally have been very deep, too, for even yet the rubbish in its bottom was a good fifteen feet from the curb. I glanced at the place carelessly enough as we passed, never dreaming of the tragedy soon to be enacted there.
Pushing on at excellent speed we mounted more rocky hills, here composed of yellow and red Nubian sandstone and granite. Just at sundown we reached the Pass of Mutrok without incident.
The Professor was excellently satisfied with our progress.
“Four hours across the desert from here,” he told us at supper, “lies the small village of Laketa, which is but four hours more from Luxor. The treasure lies some two hours’ journey from Laketa, toward Karnak, and my plan is to halt at the village, when we reach it, and leave our native escort there. I can guide you myself from Laketa, so only the Americans shall go to the place where the treasure lies hid. We shall take with us the two extra camels, and when we rejoin the Bega we must keep these camels constantly with our party, and refuse to tell the chief or any of his followers what load they bear. This is a necessary precaution, I assure you. So far our journey has been uneventful, but once we have secured the treasure we must exercise exceptional caution and vigilance until we get it safely aboard the ship.”
This was good and timely advice, we well knew, and Van Dorn’s plan seemed practical enough. Before leaving the ship our sailmaker had prepared several large canvas bags for holding the treasure, and the Professor had brought along a supply of sealing-wax with which to seal up the treasure in the bags until it was delivered on board the ship and could be appraised and divided between us. According to his recollection of the cavity and its size Van Dorn judged that two camels would be ample to transport all its contents.
During this third day the Bega had seemed to regard us with less friendly glances than before, and just as we dismounted at the camp an unpleasant incident occurred that for a time promised open rupture between us.
One of the camels having gone lame during the afternoon, Iva had been transferred from her own beast to that of the chief, riding behind whom she finished the journey in no very comfortable manner. The girl, proud and reserved, speaking seldom and then only in monosyllables, seemed wholly out of place in this caravan of men, and we realized that the chief’s absurd superstition about her was responsible for much of her sullen behavior.
Iva had ridden in a cramped position until her limbs were numbed, and as she slid off the kneeling camel she stumbled and fell awkwardly against the chief. In sudden rage Gege-Merak turned and struck her a blow on the side of her head, and the next instant he found himself tumbling headlong to the earth. For Archie had happened to stand near, and seeing the outrageous act had bowled over the great Gege-Merak as coolly as if he had been a schoolboy. Even before the chief could rise the Bega had sprung at us with drawn knives and leveled pistols; but Gege-Merak, hearing their shout of rage, rolled over and held up an arm in warning. They slunk back, then, while Ketti assisted the ancient chief to his feet. He was unhurt, for his mummified little form was tough as leather. Neither had Iva been much injured by the blow she had received, for she stood by quiet and submissive to all appearances. But I had caught a fierce gleam in her dark eyes that proved she secretly resented her brutal treatment. The sharp edge of one of her clumsy ear ornaments had cut her cheek, and two or three tiny drops of blood trickled down her face; but this was unimportant. She well knew Gege-Merak would take good care not to seriously endanger her health or life, even in a fit of temper, as long as his superstition regarding her held sway. But a kick, a blow, or a bitter epithet was often her portion.
This was not the end of the incident. After supper and during the brief Egyptian twilight Ketti came to us with a message from the chief. He asked us to kill Archie before morning and expose his body to be torn and devoured by the jackals, that the insult to Gege-Merak’s dignity be avenged.
We greeted the request with a roar of laughter, and Archie declared he would run across and punch the old fellow’s nose for his impudence. Ketti, who was less a barbarian than any of his tribe, in our opinion, was still too dense to understand our answer until we said frankly that we fully approved what Archie had done and had no intention of punishing him.
“Then,” said the messenger, “you must deliver him to our chief, who will satisfy his vengeance according to our customs.”
“See here, Ketti,” I replied; “you’re a good fellow, and I’ll explain to you our position. The poorest American is of higher rank than the most important Bega that lives, and your Gege-Merak is merely our servant, having accepted our pay. Aside from that, we Americans won’t allow any woman of any race to be abused in our presence, and you might tell your wicked old chief that if he dares to touch the girl again while in our company, we’ll tie him up and horsewhip him.”
Ketti listened to this speech with keen interest. Perhaps he secretly approved our stand, for his expression was thoughtful rather than angry.
“Do not send this message by me, Effendi,” said he, in a low voice. “It will mean to fight, and that must not be — for we are friends.”
“Are we, Ketti?” I inquired, doubtfully.
“I am your friend,” answered the warrior, evasively. “But our chief is proud, for he is the father of all the Bega of Egypt, our tribe being the head tribe of our people, and the Arabs and Turks have taught us that the whites are but dogs, and have no rank. It will make danger for you to defy Gege-Merak tonight. Tell him you will punish the Archie-boy when you reach your ship, in your own way, which is to cut him in pieces and feed him to the fishes; once we knew a ship-sailor who did that, and the promise will make Gege-Merak content.”
“Very well, Ketti,” broke in the Professor, nervously; “deliver that or any other message you like, and we’ll remember your friendship when we get back to Koser. Say anything to your chief that will restore peace between us, for we must remain friends.”
Ketti nodded understandingly and returned to his people. Doubtless he promised the old ruffian that we would take ample vengeance upon our companion, for we could hear his voice declaiming loudly our reply before all the tribesmen. Gege-Merak’s dignity was thus restored at little expense to us, and we heard no more of the matter. The incident, however, showed us that we stood in a delicate position and that our protective escort might at any moment become our most vindictive enemy.
Next morning we slept late and resumed our journey at leisure. The Professor told the chief that we should not require his escort beyond the village of Laketa. He might remain there with his band and rest until we were ready to begin the return journey, probably upon the following day. Gege-Merak listened quietly and made no comment beyond saying that his people were our servants and that to hear was to obey — an Oriental figure of speech that meant nothing at all.
After leaving the mountains a series of low bleak hills had been encountered, and about the middle of this forenoon we reached the ruins of the old Roman hydrauma, or caravan station, long since abandoned. Three miles farther brought us within sight of Laketa, a small group of mud huts occupying an oasis which boasted two small wells and five palm trees.
We were at the village before noon, and found ourselves greeted by a dozen Bisharin, men, women, and children. They were small, skinny people, naked except for a loin cloth, and having bushy hair saturated with foul smelling grease. The Bisharin claim kinship to the Bega nation, but are much inferior in physique or intelligence to the Ababdeh who formed our escort. They are great thieves, as are all these gypsy Bedouins, but, too cowardly to fight in the open, they prefer to creep upon their victims unobserved and stick a knife or short spear into their backs.
These natives of Laketa, however, lived so near to Luxor and civilization that they had lost much of their native fierceness and were a cowed and humble
group. They welcomed Gege-Merak joyously, knowing him as a great chief; but they stood more in awe of us than they did of their visiting allies. The Professor assured us that we had nothing to fear from them. He had often been to this village with Lovelace, during the time they were engaged upon their tedious search for the treasure, and the Bisharin knew him and treated the little “red-beard” with profound respect.
We made our camp beside one of the wells, while our escort encamped beside the other, situated on the opposite side of the group of huts. During the afternoon we rested from the fatigue of our journey and perfected our plans, canvassing all matters of detail in the presence of our entire party, so that every man might understand exactly what our intentions were and what work would probably be required of them.
We informed Gege-Merak that we should ride that evening to a place near Luxor, where the Professor would gather his belongings and pack them on the two extra camels. Most of us would return during the night or at daybreak; all would again be assembled at the oasis by noon, when the return journey would be begun. We should camp the next night at our old station in the mountain pass, which could easily be reached before dark.
It was all simple and easily understood, and the chief appeared to be satisfied with the arrangement. We had an early supper and at sundown our band of Americans departed, taking the direction of Luxor and using as a landmark the low hill called Tel-Ambra, lying southward of the village. The Bega gathered in a silent group to watch us move slowly over the desert, but night soon fell and they must have shortly lost sight of us in the gloom.
The Professor knew this territory by heart. There was no moon, and even the stars lacked their usual brilliance because of fleecy clouds that moved swiftly across the sky — an unusual sight in Egypt. Such clouds, when they appear, contain no moisture, but are what are called “smoke clouds.” There was plenty of light to guide us, however, so the Professor was sure of his route.
In an hour and a half we passed around the base of Tel-Ambra, which is a barren rock cropping out of the desert, some twenty feet in its highest part and about half a mile in circumference. Skirting this rock we turned abruptly to the north, altering our course decidedly, for our first direction was only undertaken to deceive the Bega.
Thirty minutes of this northerly course brought us in sight of a group of three straggling palms which showed like black streaks against the sky; but now the Professor called a sudden halt, and I could hear him storming and cursing in low but tense tones as he sat his camel and glanced around him observantly.
“What’s wrong, sir?” I asked, coming to his side.
“That scoundrelly Arab, Abdul Hashim, has rebuilt his village,” he answered, with evident chagrin. “The police tore down every wall and scattered the stones far and wide; but here they are piled up again to form houses, and even the roofs of some are newly thatched.”
He pointed away to the left, and the stars being bright at the time I had no trouble in perceiving that we had halted a few hundred yards from a native village. But it was black and seemed deserted.
“What does it matter?” I asked, impatiently. “We can surely keep away from Abdul Hashim and his people until morning, and by that time we ought to have gained possession of the treasure.”
The Professor shook his head, doubtfully; but he gave the command to march and we hurried away from this dangerous vicinity and approached the group of palms. The feet of the camels made no noise on the desert sands and our people were all too anxious and intent upon the adventure to speak unnecessarily; so like shadows we passed through the shifting and ghostly light that reached us from the stars, and soon gained our destination.
I had often wondered, in thinking upon the subject, how the Professor would be again enabled to locate with any degree of accuracy the buried treasure, situated as it was in a barren spot where the sand drove over it with every breeze. So now I watched him curiously as he dismounted at the palms and, drawing a line from one of the trees to another, seemed to pick out a star straight ahead to guide him and began pacing his way regularly over the desert. He gained an absolute regularity of pace in an amusing and ingenious, yet simple manner, attaching a cord from one of his ankles to the other, after carefully measuring its length. Consequently all his paces were mathematically equal, or could vary but slightly.
The rest of us followed him silently. I tried at first to count the number of paces, but from my high seat presently lost track of the count. But I had no idea it would matter to us; we should never be likely to visit this weird spot a second time.
At last the Professor came to a sudden halt and held up his hand. We leaped from our camels without waiting for them to kneel and two of our sailors promptly produced shovels from their panniers and began to dig in the spot the Professor indicated. They worked with steady industry, you may be sure, and we took turns relieving them at the task, for shoveling sand is by no means an easy job.
After going a certain depth without finding the granite slab we began making our pit wider, and within an hour a shovel wielded by Bryonia bounded back with a metallic sound that told us the search had finally been successful.
While the men quickly cleared away the remaining sand, disclosing three bronze rings imbedded in an oblong slab of granite, I could not help marveling at the Professor’s cleverness in locating the spot so accurately after several weeks of absence.
“It is a matter of simple mathematics,” he explained, while he watched the sand fly with eager eyes. “The only thing that could interfere with my calculations would be the removal of the palm trees. But I did not fear that, as they are centuries old.”
The big stone was now cleared of sand. The three sailors and Ned Britton stooped and put their shoulders to the slab, raising the ponderous weight slowly but surely until it stood upright on its edge. Then the Professor knelt down and with nervous haste threw out the padding of dried rushes and the thick layers of rotted mummy cloth that covered the contents of the vault.
Now, more gently, he began removing a number of bandaged cylinders, something like eighteen inches long and six inches in diameter. These, I supposed, were the rolls of papyrus bark that told the history of that dark period of Egypt between the Sixth and Twelfth Dynasties. From the tenderness with which Van Dorn handled these rolls — which he rewrapped in new canvas, sealed securely and then handed to Ned to be placed in one of the panniers — I had no doubt he considered them the most valuable and important part of the treasure. There were sixteen rolls; all of them, according to our bargain, Van Dorn’s personal property. After these had been cared for the Professor threw aside another layer of bandages and then, at last, the more tangible wealth of the powerful priests of Karnak was revealed to our wondering eyes.
Under the dim stars we could see the sparkle of many rich jewels and the gleam of a vast store of golden vases, exquisitely worked; of many chains, bracelets and other ornaments; of pearls and precious stones. Indeed, the pit seemed full of the queer and valuable things.
Van Dorn did not pause an instant to admire this gorgeous sight. He took one of the canvas sacks which Ned handed him and began filling it with the jewels. It was difficult to see just what they were, but the Professor took all that came to his hand and soon had filled the sack. He tied its mouth securely and brought out his sealing wax. When he lighted a match to melt the wax its rays illumined the pit, and I drew a deep breath of wonder at the splendor that met my eyes.
“Ah; treasure!” said a soft voice beside me.
Startled, we all sprang up at the words and found squatting beside the pit the form of the withered Bega chief, Gege-Merak.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TAKING CHANCES
THE PROFESSOR gave a cry of positive terror, and before it was well out of his throat Ned Britton had made a leap and pinioned the chief to the ground with the weight of his huge form.
We were all greatly startled; and dismayed, as well, for it seemed that in spite of all our precautions Gege-Merak had spied upon us an
d the secret of the treasure now extended to him — the most uncomfortable confederate, from our standpoint, we could possibly have gained. Already an enemy, and more powerful in this country, his own, than we were, and reckless of any consequences that follow lawless acts, Gege-Merak was the last person we would have chosen to share our important secret. The worst feature of the whole matter was that we ourselves were defying the laws of Egypt in stealthily removing this vast hoard, hidden by Egyptian priests long before the present rulers had ever set foot in the land. If the government suspected our act we should all be summarily imprisoned.
No doubt the Bega chief knew very well our predicament, and that we could not appeal to the authorities whatever injury he might inflict upon us; so he would be inclined to fight us for the possession of the treasure, if any dependence could be placed upon the native character. If we tried to compromise, then a large share of our find must go to Gege-Merak; but he was not likely to be satisfied with a little.
These thoughts doubtless flashed across every mind in the pause that followed Ned’s capture of the spy. I know, anyway, that they passed rapidly through my own mind, and appalled me.
Two of the sailors had sprung forward to assist the mate, and now they produced several lengths of cord from their pockets — every sailor carries such things — and the chief was soon fast bound and laid upon the sand a few paces away. One of the sailors was left sitting beside him as a guard.
While the Professor nervously continued to fill the canvas bags from the pit and to seal each one securely, we counselled together in whispers as to the best method of dealing with Gege-Merak. The sailors and Bryonia loaded the sacks into the panniers of the camels, which were strongly woven of rushes, as fast as they were filled and sealed, and still the pit seemed to contain as many jewels and precious stones as had been removed. We began to tremble with a realization of the hugeness of the treasure, and to understand that in spite of our ample provision to carry it, some must be left behind. But that meant turning it over to the chief, who now knew its location, unless----------
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 675
