No sooner was Hassan free from the charge that he had undertaken, of escorting Emily and her relatives to the Pyramids, than he hastened to the Georgian’s tent to ascertain whether any intelligence had reached him respecting the course taken by the Sammalous.

“Much,” replied the Georgian; “an Arab has arrived, a friend of those whom we brought with us, who followed them stealthily at a distance and saw the spot where they encamped, about fifteen miles to the north-west of this place. They do not travel fast, as they are encumbered with the number of the horses which they have captured, there being among them some mares with foal.”

“Can I see and speak with this man?” said Hassan.

“Assuredly,” replied his friend, at the same time ordering his servant to summon the Arab. The latter entered, and displayed to Hassan’s scrutinising gaze a light sinewy frame and a shrewd intelligence. The answers which he gave to Hassan’s minute inquiries were clear and satisfactory, and from them he ascertained that the marauding party were about fifty strong, mostly armed with lances, some heavy guns, and pistols. “To overtake them will not be difficult,” added the Arab, “nor to retake the horses—that is, if your own be swift and strong; but you will never capture their leader, for he is mounted on Nebleh.”

“And what is Nebleh?” inquired Hassan.

“Have you never heard of Nebleh?” replied the Arab, eyeing our hero with an expression something between surprise and contempt; “I thought every one had heard of Nebleh.^[72] She is the fleetest mare in the desert: when or how the Sammalous stole her I know not, but none can catch her.”

“We will see that,” replied Hassan, smiling; then turning to the Georgian he said to him, “My friend, it is true that I am younger than you, and have less experience; nevertheless I am half a Bedouin, and have seen something of these desert forays: will you be guided by me in this expedition?”

“Willingly,” replied the Georgian, with corresponding frankness. “I and my men will follow your counsel in everything.”

After a few minutes more of earnest conversation with the Arab, during which Hassan learnt from him further particulars respecting the nature of the ground, the existence or non-existence of water, &c., he turned to the Georgian and said—

“My counsel, then, is that you select thirty-five of the best mounted of your men, leaving the remainder here to guard the English party under the charge of the Mameluke whom you consider most trustworthy: you and I will both go in pursuit of the Sammalous. Let men and horses take food now and rest till midnight, at which hour the moon will rise; let each man secure to his saddle a bag containing eight or ten pounds of bread and a few dates; our guide can lead us to water, not much nor good, but for two days it will suffice, and in that time, Inshallah! we will capture the rogues, and perhaps Nebleh too. Allah knows!”

The Georgian cheerfully acquiesced in Hassan’s proposal, being inspired with confidence by the prompt decision with which he formed and uttered it. The two friends then supped together, and separated to make the preparations agreed upon.

At midnight the party moved silently out of the encampment, and, guided by the Arab who had brought the intelligence, commenced their march over the desert. For several hours there was no need for any precaution, and Hassan and the Georgian, riding side by side at the head of their men, conversed together with the frankness congenial to their age and spirits. Both were eager for distinction, and both hoped for an adventure that would do them honour. They talked much of Nebleh, and Hassan said, as he patted the sleek neck of his now miscalled steed—

“If Shèitan once comes within ten spear-lengths of her and she escapes, she must be swifter than any horse I have seen.”

“Truly he is a noble horse,” said the Georgian; “mine is not slow, and I remember that on the day of the jereed I could neither escape your horse nor your spear.”

“Nay,” replied Hassan, laughing, “these are but the chances of the game: had your horse been swift as Shèitan my shoulder would have felt your jereed.”

Thus discoursing, they followed their silent guide, who had not struck into the heart of the desert, but had pursued a route parallel to that taken by the Sammalous, and nearer to the cultivated ground. He halted in a small hollow in which was a pool left by the receding waters of the Nile, and around its edge a few patches of the herbs and grasses which grow on the borders of the desert.

“We are now nearly opposite their last night’s encampment,” he said to Hassan; “the moon is low, and we must remain here till dawn.”

The party dismounted accordingly to rest and refresh the horses and await the first grey approach of dawn: no sooner did it appear than they were again in motion, and from the summit of a small mound the guide pointed to a curiously shaped hill to the westward, saying—

“Just below that hill they encamped last night.”

As soon as they reached its base the party was halted, and Hassan went up with the guide to reconnoitre. When near the top they crept on their hands and knees, and looked over into the plain below: it was of considerable extent, and although they strained their eyes in every direction, no trace could they see of man or horse.

“They have travelled faster than I expected,” said the Arab, in a tone of disappointment; “they must already have passed over that ridge opposite, for that is the way to the tents of their tribe.”

Hassan thought it now a good opportunity for trying the virtue of the present that he had received the day before. Unslinging his telescope, and adjusting its focus to the mark he had made on the brass, he directed it to the range of hills pointed out by the guide: for some time he looked in vain, but suddenly an exclamation of joy broke from him.

“Praise to Allah, I have them now! one, two, three horsemen just going over the ridge; the rest must have passed before.”

“Which way are they going?” inquired the guide.

Hassan pointed with his finger. “Good, good!” exclaimed the guide. “Wait till you are sure that the last is past.”

After some minutes of careful and minute survey with the glass, during which he satisfied himself that none remained on the near side of the ridge, he made a sign to the party to advance, and informed his Georgian friend of what he had seen. “El-hamdu-lillah!” was the joyous reply, and Hassan having vaulted into the saddle, the party soon crossed the plain at an easy canter. When they reached the ridge the same manœuvre was repeated, and Hassan and the guide, creeping cautiously to the top, saw the whole party of the Sammalous crossing the plain beyond, their leisurely movement plainly indicating that as yet they had no idea of pursuers being on their track.

Hassan now took a careful survey of the country, from which, as well as from the opinion of the guide, he ascertained that at no great distance on the right hand a valley or hollow ran in a direction nearly parallel with that taken by the Sammalous. His decision was formed in a moment, and he hastily descended to communicate it to his companions.

“There they are in that plain below,” he said. “I will take a dozen of the best mounted of your men and gallop down that valley, so as to get ahead of them and cut off their retreat. Give me two hours and then fall on their track; we shall have them between us, and, Inshallah! they will not escape us.”

No sooner said than put in execution. Hassan led the way down the valley at a hand-gallop, checking, however, the speed of Shèitan so as not to exhaust the horses of the troopers behind him. The ground favoured their manœuvre, and they had already passed half the space requisite to enable them to head the enemy when they suddenly came upon an Arab riding leisurely up from a hollow at right angles to that which our hero was following.

“It is one of the Sammalous,” he said, “who knows the country; he has been down to a well in that hollow. If he once gets to the crest of the hill he will give the alarm to his party, and our plan is spoiled: he shall not do so if Shèitan’s breath holds good. Do you move gently forward and spare your horses; leave me to deal with him.” So saying, he struck the stirrups into Shèitan’s flanks, who darted forth like a bolt from a crossbow.

The Sammalous no sooner saw a horseman approaching at full speed than he divined that his followers were in pursuit of his party; he therefore urged his horse to his utmost speed. But Hassan had been too quick for him, and had got so far ahead on the hillside that he had nothing for it but to fight or be taken prisoner, and being a bold, stout fellow, he did not feel disposed to yield to a single enemy.

Hassan having got between the Sammalous and his party, reined up Shèitan and called to him to lower his lance and surrender. The Sammalous, seeing that Hassan’s followers were already visible in the distance, and that no time was to be lost, made no other reply than by charging him at full speed. Our hero, observing that his adversary’s lance was three or four feet longer than his own, and that he could not await the charge, dexterously avoided it by wheeling Shèitan suddenly to the right, and as he passed in full career dealt him a blow on the head with his dabboos,^[73] which hurled him senseless from the saddle.

“Aferin! [bravo!] Ahmed Aga, my friend,” said Hassan to himself; “when you gave me this weapon I did not think to employ it so soon and so well!” So saying, he dismounted, and commenced operations by securing the fallen man’s horse: after that he turned to examine the rider, whom he found to be stunned and bruised, but not mortally hurt. Hassan kept guard over him until the arrival of his friends. No sooner did they appear than he said—

“We have no time to lose. The Sammalous knew that this fellow came hither for water over that ridge; if he does not return they will begin to suspect, and send a party to look for him, who would discover us before our plan is ripe. I must throw dust in their eyes!” So saying, he coolly proceeded to take off the striped blanket which the Sammalous wore, and taking also the kufiyah or kerchief which formed the head-dress of the latter, he wrapped it round his own head.

Having thus disguised himself, Hassan mounted the horse of his fallen adversary, who at that moment came to his senses, and sitting up, looked on at what was going forward, and rubbed his eyes as if he were waking out of a dream. Hassan desired one of the troopers to bind the man’s hands fast behind him and to tie his feet, after which the party proceeded according to his orders along the valley, whilst he himself, trusting to his disguise, took the way towards the top of the hill which divided his party from those of whom he was in pursuit.

As soon as he reached the summit he had the satisfaction of seeing them in the plain immediately below. They were going at a slow pace, some of the slaves and boys stopping and diverging to the right and left to drive up the lagging mares and foals, while the main body pursued their route, evidently unsuspicious of the vicinity of danger. Hassan had not been a moment on the crest of the hill ere they perceived him; but as they expected their comrade to reappear from that quarter, and they recognised his horse, blanket, and head-dress, it was impossible for them at that distance to distinguish the features or figure of the rider, and the motions of Hassan were such as to disarm all suspicion, as he rode leisurely and in a lazy attitude on a parallel line with themselves, apparently allowing the horse to pick his own way. Meanwhile he noted accurately their numbers and rate of march, so that he was able to calculate with considerable exactness the most favourable point for sweeping over the hill with his party to intercept their retreat. This latter manœuvre he was obliged to defer until the appearance of the Georgian and his followers in pursuit, his own being too few in number to make a successful attack alone.

Hassan had not long to wait, for the time arranged between himself and the Georgian had scarcely elapsed ere the latter appeared on the hill in the rear, and began to cross the plain with his men at an easy gallop. That he was noticed by the Sammalous was ere long evident from the sudden stir and movement observable among their ranks, as they held a hasty consultation whether they should abandon their booty or make a stand in its defence. The party in pursuit being apparently not more than half their own number, they resolved on the latter course; and from the shouts and signs which they made to Hassan to come down and join them, he conjectured that the man whom he had discomfited was of some rank or consequence among them. Regardless of their signals, he disappeared over the hill to join his own party, while the Sammalous leader exclaimed to his followers, “Curses on Abd-el-Atah, on his father, and on his mother; he sees we are about to be attacked, and he gallops off to save his own skin!”

Having rejoined his party, Hassan vaulted on Shèitan, threw off his disguise, and led them swiftly forward for about a mile, when perceiving a small gorge or cleft in the hill which opened upon the plain, he conducted his men through it, and had the satisfaction of seeing that the body of the Sammalous were between the Georgian and himself.

“El-hamdu-lillah, we have them!” he exclaimed, and as he spoke he loosened his sword in its sheath, looked to the priming of his pistols, and there was a joyous, exulting expression in his countenance which gave confidence to all the party.

The time for concealment was past, for the Georgian was now within an arrow’s shot of the Sammalous. The latter had gathered their captured animals in the rear, and were preparing to resist the onset of the enemy in front, when shouts from the boys and servants in the rear caused them to turn their heads. They saw Hassan and his little band approaching in that direction. Escape was now impossible, and it only remained for them to conquer or be captured with all their booty.

The number of combatants was nearly equal; the Sammalous had, perhaps, eight or ten more than their opponents, besides a score of servants and boys on foot, who had each a sword or lance. Twenty of the fighting men of the Sammalous were quickly wheeled to the rear to oppose Hassan and his twelve horsemen, who now came on in a gallop, and in better order than might have been expected from their habitually irregular discipline.

“Gently, gently, my men,” said Hassan, reining in Shèitan to a moderate hand-gallop. “Keep your horses in breath till you are at close quarters, then let them out. A gold sequin for the first empty saddle among the Sammalous.” His men answered with a loud and cheerful shout, and in a few minutes the conflict began.

As Hassan had expected, the Sammalous did not await his charge in a body, but dispersed to the right and left, so as to reduce the fight rather to a succession of single combats. They fought well and bravely, nevertheless they were unable to contend with the impetuous force with which Hassan directed the attack of his small party; in fact, his appearance and his deeds contributed to strike a panic into them. His large and powerful figure, the joyous and exulting shouts that he raised as man after man fell under the sweep of his sword, together with the wonderful dexterity with which he guided and wheeled his strong and fiery horse amidst and around them, contributed to throw them into amazement and consternation.

The Georgian on his side was not idle, and it was soon evident to the leader of the Sammalous that all hopes of saving their booty must be abandoned: many of his men were killed, many wounded, when he reluctantly shouted aloud to the remainder words that may best be rendered by the French “Sauve qui peut!” Mounted on Nebleh, the chief had shot about the field like a meteor—now here, now there, darting and wheeling in every direction. Nebleh seemed to be unapproachable in her matchless speed and activity. Never had that gallant mare and her no less gallant rider better deserved the high reputation they had acquired than on this day so fatal to his tribe. One of the Turkish horsemen he had transfixed with his lance, and had grievously wounded two more; but now destiny had decided against him, and with a sigh he turned to fly from the luckless field.

Hassan had been so much occupied in the mêlée that he had not had time to seek out the Sammalous leader, and accident had not brought them together; but when the latter shouted to his men to fly, and turned Nebleh’s head to the desert, Hassan struck his stirrups into Shèitan’s flanks and darted forth in pursuit, and now commenced a race for victory on one side, for life on the other.

The Sammalous had a start of nearly fifty yards, which Shèitan’s first furious bound had reduced to thirty. For nearly half a mile the speed of the horses seemed equal, but even in the heat of that exciting moment Hassan had the presence of mind to reflect that Shèitan’s strength and speed had been severely tried by a long gallop on the other side of the hill, and also that his own weight was one-third greater than that of the light and sinewy form of the Sammalous chief, hence he rightly judged that in a long race he must be the loser. Both had hitherto kept their horses somewhat within their speed preparatory to a trial of endurance.

Hassan now resolved to call upon Shèitan for one great effort, and if that failed, to give up the pursuit. Once more he slackened the rein and struck the sharp stirrup into the flanks of Shèitan. The high-bred horse, responsive to the touch, bounded forward with an impetuosity that brought him within a few yards of Nebleh’s flank. At this crisis the Sammalous chief drew a pistol from his girdle, and, turning round in his saddle, fired at his pursuer with so true an aim that the ball passed through Hassan’s clothes and grazed his ribs, inflicting a slight flesh wound in its passage.

With a motion almost simultaneous Hassan drew out one of his pistols and aimed it full at the back of his enemy. The ball took effect between the unfortunate man’s shoulders and passed through his lungs. After reeling for a few minutes in the saddle, he fell heavily to the ground, his hand still grasping Nebleh’s bridle. The intelligent and faithful animal stood by the side of her dying master, putting her nose down towards his face as if inquiring what ailed him and why he stopped. Hassan dismounted, and leaving his panting steed at a little distance, approached the spot. The Sammalous chief was no more.

Hassan remained for a few minutes silently contemplating the body. A smile of satisfaction passed over his countenance as he reflected how well he had avenged the wrongs of his foster-father, but it quickly passed away as he said gravely, “He was a brave horseman, but his time was come—destiny had written it—Allah have mercy on his soul!” He then commenced an examination of the dead man’s clothes, and found, as he had expected, in the shawl around his waist several small bags of money which the deceased had plundered from the villages whence he had taken the horses. Securing these in his own belt, he proceeded to lead away Nebleh, who was apparently bewildered by the death of her master, and accompanied him with the gentleness of a lamb.

Two or three of his men, who had followed the headlong chase as fast as their wearied horses could carry them, now drew near. Intrusting Nebleh to them, he slowly returned to the scene of the affray.

Hassan and the Georgian, after congratulating each other on the success of their expedition, began to examine into its results. Of their own party four were killed and ten wounded; of the Sammalous nine were killed and thirty made prisoners, of whom seventeen or eighteen were wounded. Several bags of money had been found besides those in the possession of Hassan, and forty mares and foals carried away from the villages, besides twenty-five horses belonging to the Sammalous themselves. These items, added to a goodly collection of swords, pistols, and other accoutrements, made up a very respectable prize to lay at the feet of the Kiahia.