The camels were on their feet, moving uneasily and testing the strength of the stakes and ropes to which they were secured.
Alec saw the two Bedouins quickly taking down their tent. “We’d better do the same,” he yelled. He looked around for their guide, but could not see him. His tent was still up. “Raj,” Alec called to his friend. “Get our guide. Maybe he’s sleeping …” Strange, he thought, as he helped pull up the tent pegs, that the Bedouin shouldn’t be up. It wasn’t like him. Then again, he usually had the watch just before dawn.
The wind grew stronger as they folded the tent and quickly tied it to the back of one of the camels. Raj was not back, and their guide’s tent was still up! Yelling to the others to follow, Alec ran toward the pitched tent. He met Raj on his way back. “The guide’s not there!” Raj yelled.
“He’s got to be!” Alec raised his voice above the gale. “Where else …”
The others, including the two Bedouins, joined them.
“Raj! Ask them who had the last watch,” Alec shouted.
The Bedouins answered, their frantic eyes sweeping from the sky to the pitched tent. “They say the guide had the last watch,” Raj said. “He should be here … or maybe on top of the wadi,” he suggested.
The group started across the depression, but had gone only a short distance when Henry stumbled and fell. Alec, helping him to his feet, saw a still figure half-covered by sand.
“Look!” Alec shouted to the others.
Hands reached down, dragging the white-robed body from the clutching sand. It was the Bedouin guide, his face rigid and still in death. Deep in his chest was the silver hilt of a dagger.
The wind whistled down through the hollow of the wadi, sand covering their intent faces. Alec looked at the others, all of whom realized the gravity of their situation. They were without a guide and the sand storm was getting worse. The two Bedouins exchanged hasty, frightened glances. It was obvious to Alec that they, too, were apprehensive … perhaps more so, for they were Bedouins who had associated willingly with an outcast. And where death had struck once it could strike again. The Bedouin had paid for his crime, but death might also be waiting for others, especially those of his own race. The Bedouins had good cause to fear, and so, thought Alec, had he and his friends.
Sand swirled about them. “We must leave him and seek cover,” Mr. Volence cried.
They could see only a few feet in front of them as they made their way back toward the camels. Alec, Raj, Henry and Mr. Volence clung together. The two Bedouins had disappeared in the flying sand and dust. After a time they came upon one of their camels, which was lying down. “Get behind him for protection,” Raj shouted. “Cover heads with shawls!”
They lay there for a long time, while the wind whistled above their heads and sand covered their bodies. The weight of sand became heavier and heavier, gradually shutting out the sound of the wind above.
The first indication that the storm was over came when the camel moved his great body. Slowly he rose to his knees. Alec also climbed to his feet and the sand poured off him. He threw the shawl from his head and looked around. Skies were blue overhead and the sun shone brightly. Only the dark mass of clouds to the north and the shaking camel in front of him were evidence of the passing storm. The three piles of sand beside him stirred and Henry, Raj and Mr. Volence emerged, shaking themselves vigorously.
The Bedouins and the other camels were nowhere to be seen.
“Where could they be?” Mr. Volence asked anxiously.
“Probably buried,” Henry offered.
“La … no,” Raj said, “the camels would not let the sand bury them. They have gone.” He paused, then added slowly, “They have deserted us …”
“No!” Mr. Volence exclaimed. “They wouldn’t … they couldn’t do that to us at a time like this. They must be in the sand. Hurry, let’s try to find them before it’s too late!”
They ran toward the place where they had last seen the camels. Raj, jogging beside Alec, shook his head. “No, Alec … Mr. Volence is wrong … they have deserted us. They feared the same fate as that which befell the guide even more than they feared the storm. Not wanting to go with us any farther, they have gone and have taken the camels and our supplies with them.”
They searched in vain. Nothing was found. Raj was right.… They had been left alone, without food, without water … to die.
DESERT RAIDERS
9
They stood in the wadi, silent and alone. The camel beside them rested on his knees, waiting patiently until he was made to move.
“Well, what now?” Henry asked.
“Let’s think for a few minutes,” Mr. Volence said, his voice grave.
“There’s a canteen half full of water,” Alec said. He had found it in the sand. “It’ll last a while if we use it sparingly.”
“Nothing else?”
“No,” Raj answered. “Our provisions were all packed on the camels.” He paused, then continued. “I suggest that we continue to the south and east for we were but three days’ distance from the mountains yesterday.”
“Yes, Raj, I suppose you’re right,” Mr. Volence agreed. “But there’s no telling how long it will take us on foot, and with no food and so little water …”
Henry jerked his head toward the camel. “Two of us can ride him at one time,” he said, “and we can take turns. That’ll help.”
“We have our guns,” Alec offered. “We can hunt … there are gazelles.”
Nodding, Mr. Volence turned to the Bedouin youth. “Raj,” he said, “lead the way … we’re pretty much in your hands.”
All that day they walked, stumbling through the burning sand. They took turns riding the camel, Alec and Henry changing with Raj and Mr. Volence every hour. They had done nothing more than wet their lips with water. For when that was gone …
Alec searched the desert constantly for the sight of some living thing. Gazelles … ostriches … Bedouins; yes, even the ones who had killed their guide. Anything … anyone.
The sun set, but they kept on until the heavy desert night fell upon them. Then, exhausted, they lay down beside the camel and slept.
Raj awakened them before dawn. “Come,” he said, “let us go before the sun rises.”
Silently they rose, and in a few minutes were once again on their way, trusting Raj to lead them in the right direction.
Late that afternoon they stopped to rest. Hunger gnawed their vitals; faces were gaunt and thin; throats were parched and tight, making it an effort to speak above a hoarse whisper.
Alec raised his glassy, bloodshot eyes to the canteen in Raj’s hand. He shook it and held it to his ear; then, without drinking, he passed it on to Henry, who raised it to his lips. A swallow, and it was passed on to Mr. Volence; then to Alec. He shook it, and there was just the slight swish of water inside. He wet his lips and gave it to Raj. “Finish it,” he said, and only the words formed on his lips; there was no sound.
They moved on. No water, no food. What was the use? Alec walked behind the camel. They could kill it, he thought, and they would have to before long. They could go another day without food, perhaps, but water … Alec pressed his hand against his throat.
That night Raj crawled over to Alec as Henry and Mr. Volence slept. Shaking his friend, he called him. Alec’s eyes opened. “I need your help. Come,” Raj said.
Raj led Alec to the camel. “We must tie his feet,” the Bedouin youth explained, two pieces of rope in his hand. Alec wondered why, but nodded in agreement, his heavy, thick tongue making it impossible to ask questions.
Laboriously they tied the camel’s fore and hind legs, then Raj reached for his thick crop and a piece of canvas which had been part of the saddle. He handed Alec the canvas and then grasped the camel’s head halter. With skilled hands he quickly pried open the camel’s mouth and shoved the crop down his throat, calling to Alec at the same time to hold the canvas underneath.
The camel bellowed, heaved, then vomited water from the ch
ambers in his stomach. Alec caught the precious liquid in the canvas. Together he and Raj poured it into the canteen, untied the camel’s legs, and without further conversation lay down to sleep, the canteen between them.
The next day was worse than the others. Tired legs faltered and crumpled under the weight of thin, starved bodies. The liquid in the canteen was wet, tolerable. But stomachs cried for food, and crazed eyes lingered longingly on the camel. “We will kill it tonight,” Raj whispered hoarsely to Alec. “He is almost done … we have his water … he is stumbling … it is the only way.”
Alec nodded, and let his tired, heavy head fall upon his chest.
When the sun went down and darkness came, they put a bullet through the camel’s head, and feasted on its flesh. Satisfied, they fell into a heavy sleep.
The next morning they cleaned the camel of its meat, left the carcass for the hyenas and jackals, and strengthened by the food, set out once more.
Mile after mile of sand passed under their feet as the sun rose in the cloudless sky. Alec’s eyes swept continuously across the horizon to the southeast, seeking the mountains toward which they were presumably headed. It was the fifth day and soon, if Raj had led them straight on their course, they should come to them. Night fell and still only miles and miles of white sand lay before them.
The next day was the same, and so was the following one. Feet lagged heavily across the sand. Little camel meat was left. The last of the water was gone. Alec fell and Raj helped him to his feet. “Place your arm on my shoulder for a while, Alec,” he said. “Let us not stop, for it is best that we keep on.”
A little later Mr. Volence fell to his knees, followed by Henry. Alec and Raj stumbled back to them. Their eyes were glazed and swollen tongues protruded between cracked lips. This is the end, Alec thought, the end of everything. Then his mind went blank … he was too tired to care much. The sun was setting and a cool breeze swept across the desert from the east. Alec turned his body toward it for it relieved somewhat the dull ache in his head. He struggled to open his eyes, hoping the breeze would cool the fires inside. His vision, dulled by the heat and glare, cleared slowly until he could see. Rising above the horizon was a dark, jagged shape. He blinked his eyes and tried again. It was still there. His gaze swept to the right. It was there, too. Then to the left. And there! Hope surged through his mind and body. They could be the mountains … they could be!
Alec turned and touched Raj’s shoulder. Feebly he pointed to the east. Raj looked, then rose to his feet. Slowly a smile cracked his blackened lips. He fell to his knees and lifted Henry’s and Mr. Volence’s faces to the east. “Mountains,” he whispered in their ears. “Mountains … tomorrow … tomorrow.”
The cold night descended upon them with Raj’s words still ringing in their ears … “tomorrow.”
It was already light when Alec awoke. He turned his head and saw that the others were still sleeping. Another day and they must get going … he stopped as he suddenly remembered. The mountains! This was tomorrow! Or had it been a dream? Were there mountains to the east or had it been just a mirage? Alec struggled to a sitting position.
The sun was not yet fully over the horizon. But the horizon! It was not that of sand meeting sky, as it had been for days and days past. Instead jagged peaks pierced the heavens, pierced the sun. They had been right. It had not been a mirage, not a dream brought on by tired, bewildered minds. Ahead were the mountains. Their destination! Water! Food!
A cry escaped Alec’s lips, rousing the others. He pointed a trembling arm to the east.
Late in the afternoon they reached the mountains. An unknown force had provided them with the last bit of energy and strength needed to drag their tired bodies across the last few miles of blistering sand.
A short distance from where the desert ended and the short sun-scorched grass began, they saw a small spring gurgling forth from the rocks. Stumbling, they reeled toward it and lowered their heads into the cool water.
They rested that day and the following one. Dates and other fruit were abundant at the foot of the mountains. Slowly their strength returned; gradually their stomachs stopped crying for food. On the morning of the second day after their arrival Raj and Alec went hunting and brought back a young gazelle which Raj had shot. As they ate their spirits rose. “Gettin’ so I feel as though I was always meant for this kinda life,” said Henry with a grin, rubbing a sun-blackened hand to wipe his mouth free of food after he had finished eating.
Alec, too, felt well enough to start looking ahead again in their search for the Black. Even though they had been successful in crossing the desert, they still had no guide. Where to now? How could they possibly find Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak? In which direction was the Kharj district? Yes, they had reached the mountains, but they were still lost. He turned to Mr. Volence. “What do you think we should do next?” he asked.
Mr. Volence shrugged his shoulders. “Your guess is as good as mine, Alec,” he answered. “The Kharj district, from what I’ve learned, is still far to the northeast, somewhere high in the mountains. It seems to me that it’s practically impossible to find it without a guide. What do you think?” he asked, turning to the others.
“Might I suggest,” Raj said quietly, “that we proceed north up the mountain range, keeping close to the desert. It is quite possible that we will find a village, where we might be fortunate enough to find someone who can lead us to the Kharj district.”
Henry slapped his hand against his knee. “That sounds like a good idea,” he said enthusiastically.
The others nodded in agreement.
Early the following morning they departed. Walking in single file, they kept close to the mountains, avoiding the hot sun as much as they possibly could. Their muscles, hardened by the days spent in the desert, made walking on the solid ground easy. Springs and date palms were numerous, and every few hours they would stop to rest.
Two days passed without change. On the morning of the third day Raj, who was leading, raised his hand, signaling them to stop. “Yashûf.… look!” he exclaimed, pointing across the desert to the west.
A cloud of sand was moving rapidly toward them. Forms were now taking shape. Not gazelles … not ostriches. Alec strained his eyes. There could be no mistake. A large group of horsemen was riding out of the desert!
“Raiders?” asked Mr. Volence of Raj.
The Bedouin youth shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps,” he said, his eyes never leaving the desert. “They travel fast.”
“What are we gonna do?” Henry asked. “Attract their attention or hide till they’ve gone? They might be the same bunch that knifed our guide!”
Alec reminded them of Mr. Coggins’ words, “The Bedouin is loyal and generous within the laws of friendship … hospitality is one of his supreme virtues, and he considers it his sacred duty.” He suggested that they go out to meet the rapidly approaching group.
“Perhaps you’re right, Alec,” Mr. Volence said. “We just can’t go on hiding out from Bedouins. I’m also in favor of stopping them.” He turned to the others and they, too, nodded approval.
The horsemen were only a short distance away and the sound of pounding hoofs in sand could be heard easily. Mr. Volence’s party had walked down to the edge of the desert and soon could make out the hard-riding figures. There were about twenty of them, sitting still and straight in their saddles as their steeds moved effortlessly across the sand. Alec grasped Henry by the arm. “Those horses. Look at them, Henry!”
Never in Alec’s life had he seen so magnificent a group of horseflesh. Blacks, bays, chestnuts galloped swiftly with heads held high and hot coats shining in the sun. They were very near now and Alec’s gaze swept to the chestnut in the lead. He was a stallion, much larger than the others, with flowing golden mane and tail and four white stockings.
“What an animal,” Henry muttered.
“He’s big, Henry,” Alec said softly, “as big as the Black!”
The Bedouins had seen them, and their leader as
tride the chestnut signaled his band to stop. Then he and one of his men proceeded toward them. His stallion, rebelling against the bit that now held him to a walk, pranced with nervous ankles, eyes wide and staring, nostrils dilated and red. The white-robed figure on his back sat erect and still.
He was tall and big-boned. His smooth face, except for the great black beard, was dark and unlined, his brown eyes gentle. Like Raj he, too, had high cheekbones. It was difficult to guess his age. He was a free young man, a man in the making. Long limbs, wrapped around the chestnut’s girth, made the stallion dance as he stood there. A slight smile played upon the chieftain’s hard-set mouth as he viewed the group. Then he spoke in Arabic, and his voice was soft.
When he had finished, Raj answered. Then they conversed, their words precise but soft-spoken. How alike they were, Alec thought. The same high forehead and cheekbones, the same brown, liquid-soft eyes and set mouth. They talked for some time. Alec heard Raj mention the name of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak, and saw a heavy scowl fall over the face of the young chieftain. In an instant it was gone.
Finishing, Raj turned to his friends. “I have told him our story,” he said, “and he will take us into the mountains.”
“To Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak’s?” Alec asked excitedly. “I heard you mention his name.”
“La … no,” replied Raj. “He refuses to take us all the way, but has consented to leave us near enough to the kingdom of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak for us to reach it alone.”
Henry grinned. “Say, that’s good of him,” he bellowed. “I knew they were regular guys when I saw ’em!”
“Think we can trust them?” Mr. Volence asked skeptically.
Raj shrugged his large shoulders. “This is the land of the nomad, sir, where one cannot be certain of anything.”
The hoofs of the stallion clattered on the stones as he danced nervously in the sun, his coat shining like bright gold. The Bedouin on his back was eager to be off. He spoke to Raj again and there was a terseness in his speech that had not been there before.
Raj turned to his friends. “He will not wait any longer,” he said. “If we are going with him, we must go now.”
The Black Stallion Returns Page 8
