my camel. Evidently his simple system was to shoot the beasts of mounted men and then hack the head off the rider as he came to earth.
However, rifles are quicker than jezails, blunderbusses, snap-haunces or arquebusses, and without reluctance I shot the gentleman through the head.
My followers, who, with a disciplined restraint that delighted me, had refrained from shooting without orders, now made up for lost time, and the remainder of the tribesmen fled, doubtless under the impression that they had stirred up a hornets' nest of loot-laden Touareg. . . .
I again pushed forward quickly, smiling to myself as I remembered the small voice that had issued from the bassourab after I had fired, remarking, "A bell-ringer for Major Ivan!"
Evidently those bassourab curtains had been opened in spite of what I had said. . . .
A red glare lit the sky. The mob-howl--that most terrible and soul-shaking of all dreadful sounds--rose higher and louder, and the crashing volleys of disciplined fire-control answered the myriad hangings of the guns and rifles of the mob.
At a bend of the road, I found myself right into another hurrying crowd, and I visualized the northern roads as covered with them. There was no time to swerve, and into them we rode.
"Hurry, brothers, or you'll be too late," I shouted, and behind me my four followers yelled "Kill! Kill!" and we were through the lot, either before they realized that we were so few, or because they took us for what we were--a well-armed band from whom loot would only be snatched with the maximum of bloodshed.
And to these wild hill-tribesmen, the glare of the burning city was a magnet that would have drawn them almost from their graves.
On once again, and, but for a straggler here and there, we were clear of the danger-zone.
In a couple of hours we were as much in the lonely uninhabited desert as if we had been a hundred miles from the town.
I held the pace however, and as we drove on into the moonlit silence, I tried to put from me the thoughts of what was happening in Zaguig, and of the fate of my beloved friend and of my comrades whom harsh Duty had made me desert in their last agony. . . . I yearned to flee from my very self. . . . I could have wept. . . .
§ 3
It was after midnight when I drew rein and gave the word to barrak the camels and to camp.
Before I could interfere, Djikki had brought the girls' camel to its knees, with a guttural "Adar-ya-yan," and with such suddenness that poor Maudie was shot head foremost out of the bassourab on to the sand, as a tired voice within said,
"What is it now? Earthquakes? . . ."
Maudie laughed, and Miss Vanbrugh crawled out of the bassourab. "Major," she observed, "I'm through with the cabin of the Ship of the Desert. . . . The deck for me. I don't ride any more in that wobbling wigwam after to-night. . . . And there isn't real room for two. Not to be sea-sick in solid comfort."
"You'll ride exactly where and how I direct, Miss Vanbrugh," I replied, "until I can dispose of you somehow."
"Dear Major Ivan," she smiled. "I love to hear him say his little piece," and weary as she was, she hummed a bar of that eternal irritating air.
In a surprisingly short time we had the little tentes d'arbri, which should have been mine and Dufour's, up and occupied by the girls; fires lighted; water on to boil for tea; a pot issuing savoury odours, as its contents of lamb, rice, butter, vegetables and spice simmered beneath the eye of Achmet, who turned a roasting chicken on a stick.
Maudie wanted to "wait" on Miss Vanbrugh and myself, but was told by her kind employer and friend to want something different. So the two girls, Dufour, and I made a partie-carrée at one fire, while Achmet ministered to us; and Djikki and Suleiman fed the camels, and afterwards did what Miss Vanbrugh described as their "chores," about another.
After we had eaten, I made certain things clear to Miss Vanbrugh and Maudie, including the matter of the strictest economy of water for their ablutions, when we were away from oases; and the absolute necessity of the promptest and exactest obedience to my orders.
After supper the girls retired to the stick-and-canvas camp-beds belonging to Dufour and myself; and I allotted two-hour watches to Djikki, Achmet, and Suleiman, with "rounds" for Dufour and myself at alternate hours.
Visiting the camels and stacked loads, I saw that all was well--as I expected from such experienced desert-men as my followers. . . .
None of the water-girbas appeared to be leaking. . . . I rolled myself in a rug and lay down to count the stars. . . .
§ 4
"Good-morning, Major Ivan," said a cool voice, at daybreak next morning, as I issued stores and water for breakfast. "Anything in the papers this morning?"
"I hope you and Maudie slept well, Miss Vanbrugh," I replied. "Have you everything you want?"
"No, Kind Sir, she said," was the reply. "I want a hot bath and some tea, and a chafing-dish--and then I'll show you some real cookery."
She looked as fresh as the glorious morning, and as sweet in Arab dress as in one of her own frocks.
"You may perhaps get a bath in a week or two," I replied.
"A hot bath?" she asked.
"Yes. In a saucepan," I promised.
"And to-day we're going to make a forced march," I added, "with you and Maudie safe in the bassourab. After that it will have to be the natural pace of the baggage-camels and we'll travel mostly by night--and you can ride as you please,--until we bid you farewell."
"Why at night?" asked the girl. "Not just for my whims?"
"No. . . . Cooler travelling," I replied, "and the camels go better. They can't see to graze--and our enemies can't see us."
"Of course. I was afraid you were thinking of what I said about the bassourab, Major, and planning to save the women and children. . . ."
"How's Maudie?" I asked.
"All in, but cheerful," she replied. "She's not used to riding, and her poor back's breaking."
"And yours?" I asked.
"Oh, I grew up on a horse," she laughed, "and can grow old on a camel. . . . Let me dye my face and dress like a man, and carry a rifle, Major. Maudie could have the bassourab to herself then, with the curtains open."
"I'll think about it," I replied.
All that day we marched, Suleiman riding far ahead, as scout and guide. . . .
After going my rounds that night, I had a talk with this fellow, and a very interesting and illuminating talk it was.
I learned, in the first place, that the Emir el Hamel el Kebir was a desert "foundling," of whom no one knew anything whatsoever.
This looked bad, and suggested
