Reb laughed. “Well, it might not catch fish, Jake, but it sure caught you. Here, let me get that little hummer off of your finger.”
Jake stopped long enough to allow Reb to disengage the apparatus and then stuck his finger in his mouth. He glared down at the invention, reached over with his free hand, and picked it up. He heaved it as far as he could, then shook his head. “That would have worked if I just had the right kind of stuff to work with.” Removing his finger from his mouth, he looked at it. “Wouldn't be surprised but what it was broken.” He grunted and looked over to where Abdul was sitting on a rock about thirty feet in front of the house. “How do we know he's who he says he is?”
“How do we know he's not?” Reb asked, pulling his rope in. He began to spin it, making a fancy S-shape and then threw it up in the air. It seemed like a live thing in his hand. “Why would he lie about a thing like that?”
“He might be a spy of the Sanhedrin,” Jake grumbled. “You know how terrible that Elmas is. He'd do anything to lead us into a trap. He's almost done it two or three times.”
“I don't think Abdul is a spy.”
“You never think anybody's a spy. You're too trusting. That's what's the matter with you, Reb. Remember that sorceress that nearly got you chewed up by a dragon? Didn't you learn anything from that?”
Reb flushed, for he had been deceived by what appeared to be a fair young woman back when they were visiting a land called Camelot. “Well shucks! You don't think Abdul's a sorcerer, do you? Haven't you listened to anything he's said?”
“Yes, I have,” Jake said, “and I don't say he's wrong, and I don't say he's a spy. All I say is we can't go running off every time somebody walks in and asks us to come and save them.”
The argument had been going on for three days. Most of the other Sleepers had gained confidence in the visitor. They found Abdul to be an honest man, strong and obviously very courageous. He had come on a long and dangerous mission for a very noble purpose. Jake, however, had stubbornly refused to agree. And now he shook his head and added, “We'd be crazy to leave here on some wild goose chase. And that's what I'm going to say when we take a vote.”
Reb looked up in surprise. “You reckon we're going to take a vote on this?” he inquired. “I thought Josh would just make the decision by himself.”
“He says he can't do it. It's too much responsibility.”
“Well, I reckon it is. When are we going to vote?”
“I think we ought to vote right away, and I think we ought to vote no.”
The vote came quicker than either of the boys expected. When they ran back to the house, Josh stepped out and said, “Everybody gather around. I've got something to say.”
He waited until they came close, and he looked at their faces. “I guess you pretty well have your minds made up about Abdul here.” He looked over at the stranger, who had stood to his feet. “Abdul, if you don't mind, we have a little private business—”
“Of course,” Abdul said at once. “I will go for a walk. Call me when you make up your minds.”
Josh waited until Abdul was out of hearing distance, then said quickly, “We've got to do something. Abdul's going back to his people in the morning, and we've got to decide whether we're going with him and try to help.”
Immediately Jake said, “Wait! We can't go without the command of Goél. We all know that.”
Wash answered, “You don't know that Goél wouldn't want us to go. He's just not here to say. I think we ought to go with him.”
Josh looked around the circle and said, “Well, personally I do too, but I can't make the decision alone. We're going to take a vote. Everybody in favor of going with Abdul to the desert, raise your hand.”
Immediately every hand was raised—except Jake's. He glared around and shook his head stubbornly. “I vote no,” he said. He stood there scowling at the others almost angrily. “I thought you all had more sense! Say he's all right. Maybe he is, but that doesn't matter. Every other quest we've gone on, we went because Goél told us to go. And now you want to go out and do it on our own. I think that's a pretty good way to get us all killed.”
“Wait a minute!” Dave said quickly. “You're right, Jake, that Goél has always told us when to go, but we know where he stands. And these Winged Raiders sound like they're connected with the Dark Lord to me, and you know Goél's against him.”
“That's right,” Sarah added quickly. “At least we can make a start and go talk to the chief. Goél has a way of showing up when we need him.”
“That's what I say,” Reb Jackson said quickly. He was a young man who liked action and was getting bored. “I think we can handle these Winged Raiders.” He nodded confidently. “I mean, after all, back in Oldworld I used to go out hunting quail. I didn't have any trouble with them.”
Josh shook his head cautiously. “I think these are a little more dangerous than quail,” he said slowly. He looked around the circle, his eyes coming to rest on Jake. Biting his lip, he said, “Jake, it takes nerve to stand alone, and I recognize that. But the rest of us all seem to be agreed. Since helping these people seems like something Goél would want us to do, I think we've got to go and expect that he will meet us somehow either on the way or after we get there.” He gave Jake a curious glance. “You don't have to go, Jake. You could wait here if you want.”
Jake threw up his hands in disgust. “I'm the only one with any sense!” he declared. “I'll go, but I won't like it, and that's all there is to it.” He turned and walked away, his back straight with anger.
Josh stared after him. “We won't make up our minds now. This is a big decision. Maybe Goél still will come before Abdul leaves in the morning. I sure do hope so!”
Wash said, “I'll go get Abdul, but can I tell him we'll go with him?”
“No, I'm just not sure,” Josh said. “We won't decide till morning.”
”All right.”
Wash ran down the road and found Abdul standing beside the creek, looking down it. Abdul turned to face the young black boy. “What did you decide?” he asked at once.
Wash was embarrassed. He said, “Aw, well—most of us want to go, but—”
“But some do not,” Abdul said. “How will you decide?”
“Well, Josh—he's kind of the leader,” Wash said. “He wants to go, but he's just afraid to go without an order from Goél directly. He's our leader, you see.”
Abdul nodded. “It is good to follow your leader.” He seemed heavy and disappointed and began to walk slowly back to the house.
“Tell me more about your people,” Wash said, “and about these Winged Raiders. What do they do?”
Wash listened carefully as Abdul spoke of the grief and pain—and even death—the Winged Raiders of the desert had brought to his people. He spoke of families being robbed of their children, of some being killed. Those who had been captured never returned except once in a great while. Only twice, he said, there had been escapes. They had told horrible tales of brutality, torture, and slaves being worked until they died and then thrown carelessly aside.
Wash listened for a long time, and finally when Abdul stopped he said, “You know, my people were slaves a long time ago.”
“They were?”
“Yes, there was a great war fought, and finally my people were all set free to be like other men.” The small boy's face twisted, and he shook his head. “I don't like to think about anybody being a slave.” He looked at the tall man. “I know Goél would want us to go set your people free.” He saw that Abdul still looked discouraged and said quickly, “Don't worry—it will be all right. You'll see! In the morning we'll be going with you.”
They returned to the house, and no one said much to Abdul that night. They saw that he was despondent, and Josh whispered to Dave, “I see he thinks we're not going, but I think we have to. What do you think?”
Dave shrugged. “I'm like you, Josh. We know where Goél would stand on this matter of kidnapping and slavery. It's a chance to strike out at the
Dark Lord. I think we ought to go.”
The next morning at the breakfast table Josh said suddenly, “Abdul, we have decided we're going with you.”
At once Abdul straightened his back, and relief washed across his face. He looked over at the small dark face of Wash and smiled. “Now,” he said, “hopefully my people can be free—as yours were.”
* * *
They took a day to get ready to go. Josh insisted they take as much equipment as they could carry. Nuworld had not developed guns and bombs. The weapons here were swords and longbows and daggers. Reb insisted on taking his rope, of course, and early the next morning they mounted their sturdy horses, and Abdul led them out.
“It will be a hard trip,” he warned. “We have perhaps just enough provisions to get us there if we're careful.”
They traveled hard the first day, stopping at noon for a brief break, and that night they camped beside a river. They ate the meat that they had brought with them and slept hard, for the journey had been difficult. They rose the next morning stiff from the unusual exercise and rode for the next four days as fast as their animals would take them.
Finally, on the fifth day, Abdul drew up and said, “Look! There is the desert. In a few days we will reach my home.”
Reb looked out over the vast expanse of sand. “Jehoshaphat! I never saw so much country in all my life. Look at it!”
“Can we get across that, Abdul?” Josh asked doubtfully. “I've heard about people dying of thirst in the desert.”
“That is true. It is dangerous, but I know the oases and water holes. You must trust me,” he said firmly. “I will get you to my people—and then we must trust you.”
They traveled for several days over the desert. Abdul had told the truth. He led them unerringly to watering holes. He found water sometimes by digging in the dry beds of streams. Their provisions grew slim, and only when Abdul killed a wild deer were they able to fill their stomachs again.
And the wind! The deeper they penetrated the desert, the harder it blew. The Sleepers clung to their horses, and their clothing was nearly ripped from their bodies.
“Good place to fly gliders.” Dave grunted. “But it makes for hard travel.”
“The Winged Raiders use these winds,” Abdul called out over the wind. “It carries them from their home, the Citadel, all over the desert.”
Finally late one afternoon, when their lips were chapped and dry and the girls could hardly sit on their horses and the boys too for that matter, Abdul cried out, “Look! There is the home of my people.”
Josh followed his gesture and saw a group of black tents on the far horizon. “Is that where Chief Ali will be?” he asked through his parched lips.
“Yes.” Abdul nodded eagerly. “Tonight you will be honored guests under the protection of Chief Ali Shareef.”
“Wouldn't be a minute too soon for me.” Reb groaned. He eased himself into the saddle. “I've been riding all my life, but this is the longest ride I've ever made. I'm about ready for some cornbread and pork chops.”
Abdul smiled at him. “We won't have that, but I'm sure we'll have nice fresh goat.”
Reb said to Abigail, who had just made a face, “Just what you wanted, isn't it? Nice fresh goat. Come on, Abbey—I'll give you the best part of the goat!”
3
The Enemy Strikes
Chief Ali Shareef was an impressive man, tall and stern of face. He wore a white robe, as did most of the men that gathered in the council to greet the Seven Sleepers. The Sleepers themselves were curious about their host. They had been introduced by Abdul and were aware that some of the desert people were suspicious.
“I'm not sure we're all that welcome here,” Sarah whispered to Josh. She was sitting beside him in front of a group of elders and wondering what would come next.
“I guess all they have to do is look at Jake,” Josh answered almost grimly, “and see that some of us are a little suspicious too. The chief is getting up. I guess he's made up his mind about us.”
Chief Ali rose to his feet and focused his dark eyes on the young people. “We welcome you to our home,” he said in a deep voice. “My servant Abdul has told us that you have come to help.” A frown swept across his dusky face, and he shook his head in despair. “Indeed,” he said sadly, “we are in desperate need.”
One of the elders, a short muscular man with a bristling beard, spoke up. “Indeed, Chief Ali, we are in need of friends. But I fail to see how these—these children can be of any help.”
Another elder spoke. “I agree. What we need is a host of mighty armed men. Only by force will we be able to combat the Winged Raiders.”
A murmur of approval swept over the elders, and Josh felt a moment of despair. He waited until the men had spoken, then rose to his feet. “May I speak, Chief Ali?” he asked. When the chief nodded, he said, “We have a saying in our world, 'The race is not always to the swift.' I realize that we seem to be useless to you, but Goél sometimes uses the weakest to overcome the strongest. We have seen him do mighty things when all looked impossible. All we ask is that you let us remain with you for a time.”
“You're welcome and will be our guests,” Ali said. A smile tugged at the corners of his thin lips, and he added, “We had hoped that Goél himself would come to our aid.”
Jake piped up, 'That's what I say! And until he comes, I don't believe we can do business.”
“Will you shut up?” Reb Jackson whispered, digging his elbow into Jake's side. “We've got problems enough without you making it harder.”
Chief Ali, however, seemed amused by the stocky Jake's truculence. “My young friend, you are outspoken. That is not always good, but at least we know where you stand.” He swept the Sleepers with his eye saying, “Be our guests. We will learn from you, and perhaps you will learn from us.”
* * *
For the next few days the Sleepers had what amounted to a vacation. Reb, more than anyone else, had a blast! The desert people were horsemen, and their horses were strong and swift. They were amazed to find that the young man who wore the outlandish hat was as good a rider as many among their own people. And they were amused at the use of his lariat.
The first morning Reb had demonstrated his skill by dropping a noose over the head of a half-broken pony.
Abdul gasped with surprise. “We have never seen such!”
A murmur of approval went up, and Reb found himself giving lariat lessons each morning and became very popular.
The girls also found themselves the object of much attention. Abigail, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, worked her usual havoc among the young men. They could not take their eyes off her. Abbey, of course, loved the attention and spent most of her time doing her hair in different ways and experimenting with new kinds of makeup. The young girls of the tribe practically fawned over her as she instructed them in the art of beauty.
“I think it's disgusting!” Sarah exclaimed, slumping down beside Josh. “All she does is primp! Can't you say something to her, Josh?”
“What would I say?” Josh demanded. “She's a girl, isn't she? All girls act like that—primping and putting on makeup and worrying about this dress or that.”
“Well!” Sarah gasped. “I'm glad to learn what you really think about me, Josh Adams!” She flounced away, and Josh stared after her.
Dave, who had been sitting across from him, said, “Just an old charmer—that's all you are, Josh. You ought to write a book on how to be a Prince Charming.”
“Will you shut up, Dave?” Josh snapped. “I don't know what to do with them.”
One thing that fascinated the Sleepers was the camels. They were all given riding lessons by Adbul, but none of them did very well. Reb decided that you had to treat camels firmly, just as you treat a horse, and when he went up to his first camel he gave the bridle a jerk.
The camel turned calmly around, looked at him out of soulful eyes, and then spit what looked like tobacco juice right into Reb's face.
Abigail lau
ghed in sudden amusement, and the others could not help themselves. The sight of the vile liquid running down Reb's face amused them all. He'd always been so capable, and now this.
Reb gasped and wiped the mess from his face. He took his hat off and stared at it. He looked around at his friends, who were laughing, and for a moment they thought he would plow into them.
But he had a sense of humor. “Give me your handkerchief, Sarah,” he said. Drying his face, he looked at his white Stetson. “At least I didn't get none of that camel spit on my hat!”
They enjoyed the food after a fashion. Mostly it was some form of mutton. The desert people kept large flocks of sheep and herds of goats. One item at every meal was goat's milk, and Wash, for one, couldn't stand the stuff. “What I wouldn't give for a good ol' Dr. Pepper!” he moaned.
“You won't find none of those in this place,” Reb said. “I've got to admit, they know how to do a good thing with this here sheep. Although I'd sure like to have a good hamburger!”
On the third day, Josh had a council with the Seven. “I think we've got to do something,” he said. They were all sitting inside one of the large black tents on rich and luxurious rugs that covered the sand. They were really comfortable, and it was a great deal like camping out every night.
“What do you mean, Josh—‘do something?’” Sarah inquired.
“I've been waiting for Goél to appear and give us some kind of directions—”
“That's what I say!” Jake broke in. “And until he does, we better not try anything.”
“I don't agree with that,” Dave Cooper broke in. He was lounged back, tall, athletic, and handsome, but now he came to a sitting position. “We've got to do something! Why, we might stay here for a year!”
“That's right,” Wash said. “Now that we're here, I say let's do something.” He looked at Josh and asked, “What?”
Winged Raiders of the Desert Page 2
