The Arabs looked at us stupidly a moment, and then Abdul Hashim spurred his donkey — a strong, thin limbed beast — toward me and touched his turban. His gesture indicated respect, but his steady eyes were as unfathomable as a pool at midnight.
“The blessing of Allah be thine, Effendi,” said he. “What is your errand at Laketa?”
“To rejoin the rest of our party,” I answered confidently.
“Ah, yes; your party from the ship, with the red-bearded jackal Van Dorn at their head,” he said, with a flash of resentment as he mentioned the Professor.
“You are wrong in one thing,” said I, calmly. “Naboth Perkins, my uncle, heads the party.”
“Why try to deceive us, Effendi?” asked Abdul Hashim, in a sterner tone. “You take me for a fool, it seems; and a fool I am not. You would not be here — you could not be here — unless led by the red-beard, who is a dog and a traitor to his masters.”
“I don’t answer for Van Dorn,” I replied, with a shrug. “It seems you know the Professor, and don’t like him; but I’m sure that is none of our business. All we ask of you is the favor of a courteous direction to Laketa. If you will not give this, we must proceed without it, and find the place the best way we can.”
I had observed that as we conversed the band of Arabs had crept around our group, slowly encircling us in all directions, so that now they fairly hemmed us in. Also their long rifles were in their hands and their belts were stuck full of pistols and knives. The party had been formed for warfare, without a doubt.
Although noting all this I endeavored to appear unconcerned as I awaited the sheik’s reply.
The latter smiled rather grimly and said:
“We will indeed be your guides, young sirs; but not to Laketa. Forgive me if I ask for your companionship until you have told us all I wish to know.”
“And what is that, Abdul Hashim?” I asked boldly.
“You know my name?”
“Of course. We knocked you down that evening we rescued Van Dorn from your clutches in Alexandria, and he told us your history. The Professor wanted us to kill you; but we refused. Perhaps you remember that?”
“I remember that I owe my life to my own skill, and not to your mercy.” He expressed himself in excellent English, for an Arab. But the English have occupied Egypt for so long that nearly all the natives have learned to speak or at least understand our language.
“You have not told me what it is that you wish to know,” I said, impatiently.
He looked me over with a thoughtful expression and proceeded to examine each of my comrades, in turn. Then he said, abruptly:
“You will come to my village.”
At once the Arabs began to move forward, and we, being surrounded, were forced to accompany them. They were an evil appearing lot, dirty and hungry looking, and I did not doubt that any one of them would murder us with much satisfaction, merely for the pleasure of killing.
As for Abdul Hashim himself, I began to perceive he was a character, and one worth studying in other circumstances. Never have I seen more handsome features on any man, but they were as immobile as if carved from marble. Any expression you might read showed in his eyes, which he could not control so well as he did his face. Usually they were calm as those of the sphinx, but at times they flashed evilly — nay, even with a gleam of madness in them — and always they were cruel and terrible in their aspect. In civilized countries a man like this would be greatly dreaded; here he was an insignificant sheik, with a handful of followers too degraded to be of any importance.
We passed around Tel-Ambra to the left and headed for the small group of rude stone huts which the Professor had sighted the night before and had aroused in him such violent emotions. The place was not far distant from the three ancient palms, and as we rode along I glanced over the desert to try to discover the spot where the treasure was hid; but the endless, undulating sands refused to reveal their secret. Indeed, the brisk morning breeze appeared to have smoothed away every trace of our night’s work.
Abdul Hashim said little until we reached his village, which had hastily been rebuilt after the police had demolished it. Even before then it must have been a miserable affair; now it was scarce worthy the name of village, or suitable for mortal habitation. Doubtless the only object of a settlement at this place was to waylay travelers who crossed the desert from the Red Sea, and I could conjecture without much chance of going wrong that robbery had been the only means of livelihood for its inhabitants.
Entering a narrow street we were told to dismount in front of the most important hovel the place contained. We obeyed because we could not well do otherwise. Abdul Hashim personally ushered us into the dwelling, and as we entered the Arabs slyly cut the straps of our rifles and took the weapons from us. We dared not resent this insult, but though we made no protest in words we were angry enough when we turned to face the sheik, who alone had entered with us.
The room consisted of four bare stone walls of uneven height, only a portion of the inclosed space being roofed or thatched with palm branches. Slabs and blocks of stone lay around in all directions, as if the work of restoring the walls was still incomplete. In one corner a black goat with a white spot over one eye lay asleep in the shade, and a rude bed of palm leaves stood underneath the thatch.
“Now,” began our captor, in a brusk tone, “let us come to an understanding, if you will. You gidân must tell me all that I wish to know, or I will put you to sleep forever. But first I will tell you what I already know. It is this: The red-bearded jackal you call Van Dorn was formerly the slave of a wise explorer named Lovelace Pasha, who was my friend. Lovelace Pasha sought for buried treasure in the desert, and I gave him my assistance in return for his promise to give me and my people a share of the treasure, if he found where it lay. This Lovelace was a real effendi — a gentleman — and always to Abdul Hashim a true friend.
“One night he found the treasure, and with him at the time were two of my tribe — one being my own brother — and the slave Van Dorn. Lovelace Pasha took a few jewels and started to return to my village, but the discovery had driven Van Dorn mad. He shot my men and killed them, and would have shot Lovelace Pasha had he not caught and held the red-beard and wrenched the pistol from his grasp. So my friend bound Van Dorn with ropes and brought him to my village, with the sad news of the crime he had committed. Also Lovelace Pasha showed me the jewels which he had taken, and said there was much treasure to divide and that I should have my share according to the compact, as I had been faithful to him.
“My people, gidân, do not take vengeance upon those whom Allah has smitten with madness; so we did no harm to Van Dorn. Lovelace Pasha declared the fellow was without mind or reason, but offered to care for him until the morning, as he did not fear him. So he took him into his house and my village went to sleep.
“In the morning we found that another great crime had been committed. Van Dorn had broken his bonds, stabbed Lovelace Pasha to the heart, robbed him of the jewels, and escaped to Luxor. With him he carried the secret of where the treasure lay hid, and too late we gained the knowledge that the red-beard was not mad, as one without reason, but merely mad to gain all the treasure for himself and willing to kill and defy all who stood in the way of his gaining the vast store his master had discovered. For, mark the cunning of the miserable thief, Effendi: this Van Dorn told the police that I and my people had murdered the great Lovelace Pasha, and the governor, believing him, sent a strong force to my village and destroyed it, declaring me and all my tribe outlaws.
“Thus did the jackal add to his crimes and prove he was not afflicted of Allah, but by the devil of the Christians. And, tell me, would a Christian, even, love him after this?
“I followed him secretly to Alexandria and with some friends to assist me was about to capture Van Dorn and make him lead us where the treasure is hid, when he cried out in fear and your party came to his rescue. Again he escaped me, for you took him aboard your ship and sailed away. I watched you, and feared that my r
evenge and the secret of the treasure were both lost to me. Then I remembered the jackal’s slyness, and knew that some time he would return to secure the wealth that was hid in the sands near to my village. So I came home to watch for him, yet I did not expect him to act so soon. In Luxor I saw you and recognized the fact that you belonged to the ship in which Van Dorn had sailed away. They told me you had ridden your camels in from the desert, therefore I knew you had followed the trail from the Red Sea. It was all plain enough, with a little thought. I got my men together and followed you, as you know.”
The sheik paused. He had spoken earnestly and well, and his story bewildered us because we had until now believed in the plausible tale the Professor had told us. If Abdul Hashim’s relation was true the little Professor was indeed a diabolical scoundrel; and I had a secret conviction that a part of it, at least, was to be believed rather than Van Dorn’s version. But was not Abdul Hashim also a scoundrel and thief? You had but to look at the fellow to doubt that there was an honest hair in his head. Privately I decided that neither was entitled to any share of Lovelace’s find; but however the original discoverer had been done to death a bitter feud had undoubtedly sprung up between Van Dorn and the Arab — both eager to profit by Lovelace Pasha’s murder.
“Tell me,” resumed the sheik, abruptly, “where is your ship — at Koser?”
I nodded.
“And you came over the caravan route through the mountains?”
I nodded again.
“Perhaps, then, you know when the jackal will try to secure the treasure?” the sheik continued, eyeing me intently.
I decided there was little harm in being frank with the man. He knew there was a treasure and that Van Dorn was after it and would not rest till he got it. So it would avail us nothing to lie, and I hoped our final safety might result from being frank and truthful.
“Van Dorn has already secured the treasure,” I answered.
For the first time the passionate heart of the man conquered his impassive frame. He gave a start of dismay and his face was for an instant contorted with fear and anger. But presently he controlled himself with a great effort and asked:
“When was this, Effendi?”
“Last night.”
“Were you with him?”
“Yes!”
“Where, then, is the robber now?”
“I do not know. We went to Luxor on business and our party was to wait for us at Tel-Ambra. When we arrived they were gone.”
I had reminded him of something. He looked at Archie and said:
“You received some money at Luxor. This is a dangerous place, so I will myself take care of your money until you are in safety, or rejoin your friends. Give it to me.”
Archie grinned.
“Why, you’re as big a thief as Van Dorn,” he answered, easily. “But I’ve fooled you, my good Arab. The money is now in Cook’s bank at Luxor, and I don’t believe they’ll give it up if you go and ask them.”
The Arab frowned; but perhaps he remembered there was more important game to be bagged, for he said no more about Archie’s money, to the boy’s great relief.
“Did the jackal secure much treasure?” he inquired, turning to me with a trace of eagerness in his voice.
“Quite a lot. Enough to load two camels,” I replied.
“And did any remain after that?”
“Plenty, as far as I could judge.”
“Where is the place?”
“I could not find it again if I tried; nor could my companions. Van Dorn did not tell us how to get to it. He led us there at night, and it is still his secret as far as we are concerned.”
After this Abdul Hashim began to pace nervously up and down the room, the floor of which was hard earth. Suddenly he paused.
“How many people came with you from Koser?” he demanded.
I was glad he asked the question that way, for it gave me an opportunity to answer truthfully and still mislead him.
“Gege-Merak, who guided us, had an escort of six Bega warriors; in our party were nine — fifteen in all,” said I.
“Gege-Merak!” he exclaimed, in an annoyed tone, and resumed his pacing. Evidently the news did not please him.
I acknowledge that I hardly knew how to conduct myself in so strange an emergency. The question was whether to try to make an ally of the sheik or to defy him. It naturally worried me to be separated from my uncle and his party of Americans, of whose fate I now stood in doubt. The treasure I believed to be seriously threatened by Gege-Merak, who had so inopportunely discovered our secret, and the chief would have no hesitation in murdering us all if he found an opportunity. With Abdul Hashim on our side we might successfully defy Gege-Merak, yet to set the Arab on the trail meant sure death to the Professor and a loss of much of the treasure, since the sheik would be sure to put forward his claim for a division, under the alleged compact existing between himself and Lovelace.
Truly we Americans were in double peril, from the Bega chief on one side and the Arab sheik on the other; and how we might extricate ourselves from the difficulties that beset us was a difficult problem. If we three boys were again with Ned and Uncle Naboth we could assist them to fight it out, but our loss must have weakened them greatly, and alone we three were well nigh powerless.
“Fifteen,” repeated Abdul Hashim, musingly; “fifteen. Are you Americans true men?” he then inquired, with an appearance of earnestness.
“True as steel,” I said.
“Will they deliver Van Dorn to my vengeance?”
The question amused me.
“No, sheik; they will be true to Van Dorn, who has been true to them. They do not know the story you have just told me, and have no grievance against the man.”
“But when they learn the truth will they deliver him up?” he persisted.
“I think not. My uncle would take an American’s word in preference to that of an Arab.”
“I must fight,” said Abdul Hashim, as if to himself. “But not openly. I must meet treachery with treachery. Very good.”
He stopped and looked at us with composure, as if he had settled all difficulties in his own mind and outlined a plan of action.
“I shall yet secure my treasure and my revenge,” he continued, and then bowed low to us and left the room. The bow was a mockery, and we felt less assurance in the sheik’s absence than when we faced him.
But here we were, prisoners of an unscrupulous and lawless Arab, and realizing that any present attempt to escape would be useless, we sat down upon the palm branches to await the next act in the drama.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PRISONERS
THE SITUATION WAS not long in developing. A tall, dirty Arab came in with some coarse food, which we ate because it was now the middle of the afternoon and our long ride had made us hungry.
Scarcely had we finished the meal when more Arabs came to lead us from our quarters. We found six camels saddled and kneeling in the village street. Three were our own, and with them were three others that seemed equally good — doubtless the pick of Abdul Hashim’s animals. The sheik and two stalwart Arabs stood beside the beasts and, as we approached, Abdul Hashim tersely commanded us to mount. We obeyed, selecting our own camels; I ventured to ask if we could not have our rifles, which I saw the sheik and his two men holding. The result was that he not only refused my request, but ordered us carefully searched, and so our knives and revolvers were taken away. These the three coolly appropriated and we were compelled to mount.
Slowly we rode away from the village toward the spot where the three aged palms reared their fronded heads above the sands. Somewhere near their roots there must have been moisture, which welled up from below, but never reached the surface of the desert. It is the only way to account for the life of these trees amid the sandy waste, whereon nothing else was able to grow. Often you meet with such phenomena in tropical climes — vegetation existing seemingly without moisture — but there must be a rational explanation of these remarkable occurre
nces.
Abdul Hashim seemed moody, and a frown darkened his handsome bronzed features. When we arrived at the palms he turned to us and said:
“I have decided to give you a full hour in which to discover the location of the treasure. To deny that you know where it lies is useless, for if you fail to find it you will all three die here. I will not be burdened with prisoners, and I dare not set you free; so you may preserve your lives but in one way, by finding the treasure.”
This foolish speech made me very indignant with the fellow and discovered the sheik in an altogether new character.
“You must think we are a bunch of idiots!” I exclaimed, angrily. “If you dare not set us at liberty now, you surely would not dare do so after we had found the treasure for you.”
“You may as well kill us now, without farther trouble,” added Archie, gloomily.
“But that would be awkward for Abdul Hashim,” observed Joe, with a quiet smile. “Have we not warned the Cadi at Luxor that we saw the sheik at the window of the bazar, and that we feared mischief at his hands? And did not the Cadi promise us that if harm came to us he would take vengeance on Abdul Hashim?”
I looked at Joe admiringly. It was all pure invention, but I could see that the remark impressed the sheik and caused him to waver in his purpose.
“The death of Abdul Hashim won’t help us after we are murdered,” remarked Archie, with a grin of appreciation.
“But it will be a satisfaction, nevertheless, to our friends,” I added, attempting indifference.
Joe’s argument was the most forcible one we could have advanced to safeguard our lives, and we were glad to see that it made our captor thoughtful. It might not serve, after all, if the sheik saw any particular object in killing us off, but until he did, the thought of punishment evidently deterred him from harming us.
He tried another argument.
“Come,” said he, assuming a soft, caressing tone, “there is much treasure left, you say, and we will divide it equally. Or we will make it in quarters — I am not greedy, and a quarter is enough for one poor Arab like me, who only wants money to rebuild his village. And afterward I will escort you and your prize safely to Koser, or to Cairo, as you may prefer. All will be well with us, and we shall part friends. Is it agreed, then?”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 677
