looked at Maudie. Methought she beamed joyously.
Half an hour later, Djikki of the wonderful eyesight came riding up at top-speed.
"Veiled Touareg," he said. "The Forgotten of God. About five hands of fingers. Like the crescent moon--" from which I knew that we were being followed by about five and twenty Touareg, and that they were riding in a curved line--the horns of which would encircle us at the right time.
There was nothing for it but to ride on. We were five rifles--six counting Mary Vanbrugh--and shooting from behind our camels we should give a good account of ourselves against mounted men advancing over open country.
Nor would so small a gang resolutely push home an attack upon so straight-shooting and determined a band as ourselves.
But what if they managed to kill our camels?
"Ride after Suleiman as fast as you can, Miss Vanbrugh, with Maudie. Achmet will ride behind you," said I. "You and I and Djikki will do rear-guard, Dufour. . . ."
"Don't be alarmed if you hear firing," I added to the girls.
"Oh, Major, I shall jibber with fright, and look foolish in the face," drawled Mary Vanbrugh, and I was under the impression that Maudie's lips parted to breathe the word "Sheikhs!"
We rode in this order for an hour, and I then left Djikki on a sand-dune, with orders to watch while the light lasted. I thought he would get our pursuers silhouetted against the sunset and see if their numbers had increased, their formation or direction changed, and judge whether their pace had quickened or slackened.
"As soon as it is dark, we'll turn sharp-right, for a couple of hours, and then left again," I said to Dufour.
"Yes, sir," said he. "They won't be able to follow tracks in the dark. Not above a walking pace."
He had hardly spoken when a rifle cracked. . . . Again twice. . . . Aimed from us, by the sound. . . . Djikki! . . . We wheeled round together and rode back along our tracks. We passed Djikki's barraked camel and saw the Soudanese lying behind the crest of a sand-hill. He stood up and came down to us.
"Three," he said. "Swift scouts in advance of the rest. I hit one man and one camel. The others fled. Four hundred metres."
For a Soudanese it was very fine marksmanship.
"It'll show them we're awake, anyhow," said Dufour; and we rode off quickly, to overtake the others.
As soon as it was as dark as it ever is in the star-lit desert, I took the lead, and turned sharply from our line as we were riding over a rocky stony patch that would show no prints of the soft feet of camels.
For an hour or two I followed the line, and then turned sharply to the left, parallel with our original track.
Thereafter I dropped to the rear, leaving Dufour to lead. I preferred to rely upon his acquired scientific skill rather than upon Suleiman's desert sense of direction, when I left the head of the caravan at night. Dropping back, I halted until I could only just see the outline of the last rider, Achmet, sometimes as a blur of white in the star-shine, sometimes as a silhouette against the blue-black starry sky. . . .
Vast, vast emptiness. . . . Universes beyond universes. . . . Rhythmic fall of soft feet on sand. . . . Rhythmic swaying of the great camel's warm body. . . . World swaying. . . . Stars swaying. . . .
I will not falsely accuse myself of having fallen asleep, for I do not believe I slept--though I have done such a thing on the back of a camel. But I was certainly slightly hypnotized by star-staring and the perfect rhythm of my camel's tireless changeless trot. . . . And I had been very short of sleep for weeks. . . . Perhaps I did sleep for a few seconds? . . .
Anyhow, I came quite gradually from a general inattentiveness toward the phenomena of reality, to an interest therein, and then to an awareness that gripped my heart like the clutch of a cold hand.
First I noted dully that I had drawn level with Achmet and was some yards to his right. . . . Then that Djikki, or Suleiman perhaps, was riding a few yards to my right. . . . And then that some one else was close behind me.
I must have got right into the middle of the caravan. Curious. . . . Why, what was this? . . . I rubbed my eyes. . . . None of us carried a lance or spear of any kind!
It was then that my blood ran cold, for I knew I was riding with the Touareg!
I pulled myself together and did some quick thinking. Did each of them take me for some other member of their band who had ridden to the front and been overtaken again? Or were they chuckling to themselves at the poor fool whom they had outwitted, and who was now in their power? . . .
Was it their object to ride on with me, silently, until the Touareg band and the caravan were one body--and then each robber select his victim and slay him?
What should I do? My rifle was across my thighs. No; I could not have been asleep or I should have dropped it.
I slowly turned my head and looked behind me. I could see no others--but it was very dark and others might be near, besides the three whom I could distinguish clearly.
Achmet was not in sight. What should I do? . . .
Work, poor brain, work! Her life depends on it. . . .
Could I draw ahead of them sufficiently fast to overtake the caravan, give a swift order, and have my men wheeled about and ready to meet our pursuers with a sudden volley and then rapid fire?
I could try, anyhow. I raised the long camel-stick that dangled from my wrist, and my camel quickened its pace instantly. There is never any need to strike a well-trained mehari. . . . The ghostly riders to right and left of me kept their positions. . . . I had gained nothing. . . .
I must not appear to be trying to escape. . . . With faint pressure on the left nose-rein of my camel, I endeavoured to edge imperceptibly toward the shadow on my left. I would speak to him as though I were a brother Targui, as soon as I was close enough to shoot with certainty if he attacked me.
The result showed me that the raiders had not taken me for one of themselves--I could get no nearer to the man, nor draw further from the rider on my right. . . .
Wits against wits--and Mary Vanbrugh's life in the balance. . . .
Gently I drew rein, and slowed down very gradually. My silent nightmare companions did the same.
This would let the caravan draw ahead of us, and give my men more time for action, when the time for action came.
Slower and slower grew my pace, and I drooped forward, nodding like a man asleep, my eyes straining beneath my haik to watch these devils who shepherded me along.
My camel dropped into a walk, and very gradually the two shadows converged upon me to do a silent job with sword or spear. . . .
And what of the man behind me? The muscles of my shoulder-blades writhed as I thought of the cold steel that even then might be within a yard of my back. . . .
Suddenly I pulled up, raised my rifle, and fired carefully, and with the speed that has no haste, at the rider on my right.
