The telephone instrument wired as an alternative to the key, thus permitting the sending either of telegraph or conversation, had been ripped away and ground into the hard-packed earth of the floor. At first it could not be found, but Frank stubbed a foot against it finally.
The three boys looked at each other, while Ali stood to one side.
“If you can make anything out of that, you fellows,” said Bob, “you’ll be going some. That’s all I can say.”
Jack shook his head dubiously.
“Oh, come,” expostulated Frank, who never liked to take a dare, and this looked like a dare to him, “give me time and I’ll have that fixed up. We’ve got all sorts of radio supplies in our luggage, you know, and as long as the motor hasn’t been wrecked we can fix this up. I’ll bet on it.”
The motor had not been subject to the general attack, as a matter of fact. Standing below the table, perhaps it had been overlooked. At Frank’s words, therefore, the others nodded.
“That’s right, old thing,” said Jack, slapping him on the back. “We’ll pitch in on this tomorrow, and we’ll have it fixed up in no time. That is,” he added, pausing, “if something else doesn’t come up for us to do, like——”
“Like what?” demanded Bob.
“Well, either defending ourselves or pursuing the raiders.”
“Pursuing them?” asked Frank.
Jack nodded.
“When that old woman is able to talk, we’ll find out what happened here tonight,” he said. “If Sheik Abraham and his few tribesmen and women were carried off captive, and there is a chance we can help them, I know father will want to do it.”
“And I’ll want to do it, too,” said big Bob, gruffly. “Darned shame these people getting into trouble, and perhaps on our account, too.”
“Our account?” It was Jack’s turn to look surprised.
“Sure thing,” said Bob, slangily. “Why not? How else can you figure it? Who was killed? Nobody but the Professor and Ben Hassim, the two men who had penetrated the Shaitun Mountains and found this old city and learned about a way to get to Athensi. Who killed ’em? Well, by the looks of that wounded fellow your father is doctoring, it was a raiding party of Athensians.”
Everybody looked thoughtful. As for Jack, he felt increased respect for his big friend’s powers of reasoning.
“But, great Scott, Bob, what would bring them six or seven days across the desert?” he demanded. “As far as the Professor ever could discover, they never left their hidden strongholds. Oh, of course, once a year a party went to Gao. But I understood that lay in an opposite direction from this oasis across the desert.”
Ali, who had been an interested listener to this discussion, interrupted.
“Perhaps, these strange people learned the Professor meant to disturb their privacy and bring the world to their doors,” he said. “And they resented, and took this method of putting a stop to it.”
“But how could they have learned about him or his plans?” demurred Frank. “Oh, this is a mess. Well, when that wounded chap finds his tongue, maybe we’ll learn something. Or when the old woman becomes able to answer questions. Anyway, let’s look around here for any letters or papers or other things the Professor might have left, and then go back to your father, Jack.”
Several days passed, however, during which the wounded Athensian, for such they all considered him to be, lay in a stupor resembling death. Little enough had the party to go on toward solving the mystery of the raid on the Oasis Aiz-Or.
The old woman whose name was Allola, and who proved to be the Sheik Abraham’s mother, recovered the use of her wits and her tongue, but what information she was able to supply was only scanty.
She knew the Professor and Ben Hassim, not alone from their most recent stay with her tribe, but from their former visit. “The Crazy One,” she described the Professor, bowing her head and hushing her voice in reverence as she did so, for among all primitive peoples those afflicted with insanity are regarded as under the special protection of Providence. And, although the Professor in reality was far from insane, yet these desert Bedouins so considered him because of his eccentricities and his search for a lost city and his invasion of the dread Shaitun Mountains.
When the Professor with Ben Hassim had arrived a second time at their isolated and almost forgotten oasis, Allola said the Sheik Abraham, her son, together with the dozen men of the tribe and twice as many boys greeted him with joy, while she and the women with their faces veiled watched curiously from the tents.
A welcome visitor was the Professor to this little tribe living apart from the world which rarely saw or entertained anybody from the outside. For the men he brought cigarettes, for the women many cakes of sweet chocolate. They were very grateful, and a tent had been set aside for him, and women assigned to look after his needs.
Days had slipped into weeks and weeks into months, while the Professor and Ben Hassim stayed on. Frequently they would depart on long expeditions, leading two fine camels which they had brought with them, carrying food and water, and bestriding their own fine animals. Allola’s sharp eyes regarded Mr. Hampton. She did not know why they made these expeditions. Perhaps, he——
Mr. Hampton smiled a little at her curiosity. Then he turned to Ali and the boys who were attentive listeners like himself.
“The Professor and Ben Hassim were scouting around the base of the Shaitun Mountains,” he said. “When he left me to come on in advance, Souchard said he intended to put in his time prospecting the mountain wall in both directions from the old stone road up which he had stumbled into Korakum in the first place.
“You will remember that the men of Korakum told him the only way to gain entrance to Athensi was along the course of the subterranean river passing around the walls of Korakum. This river had its rise in the heart of the mountains behind Athensi, passed through the valley in which that city was situated, then disappeared again into the mountains and after passing through a series of natural caves or tunnels interspersed by open stretches of canyon, emerged into the plains of Korakum. Then it dived into the outer ring of mountains, never to reappear above ground. Probably, eventually, it reaches the Niger far to the west of us.
“Well, it was my friend’s belief, based on hints dropped by one member of the exiled Athensians living in Korakum, that the heights above the hidden city could be gained by another method. Very long ago, he gathered, there had been another great road leading out from these heights to the desert, but the Athensians had destroyed it in order to preserve their isolation. It had been a great engineering feat to build it, but they had ruthlessly destroyed bridges across chasms and stone viaducts along the faces of steep cliffs, thus ensuring the impregnability of their city. However, Souchard understood, although his informant never would make a positive statement, that some of the exiles had been busy patching up the gaps in this road, flinging rude rope bridges across the chasms, and so on, to the end that men might pass single file. Doubtless, this was for purposes of accomplishing a coup of their own.”
“And he was seeking that old road?” asked Jack.
“Yes,” said Mr. Hampton. “And my guess is that, perhaps, he was discovered at it, and was tracked here and disposed of, in order that the secret might not escape.”
“Wow,” cried big Bob, letting a long breath escape. “Pretty mess we’re planning to go into. I thought this was going to be a gentlemanly expedition, with overtures made to the Athensian rulers to let us come in and study their habits and history.”
“And here we are stepping into a hornet’s nest,” supplemented Frank.
Mr. Hampton smiled slightly.
“Professor Souchard gave me to believe that it would be possible to approach the Athensians peaceably,” he said. “Otherwise I would not have undertaken this expedition, and brought you boys into danger, of course. But I’m beginning to believe now that he exaggerated the ease of approach, and minimized if he did not entirely ignore the dangers. Remember, he knew nothing much of the real Athensians. The exiles living in Korakum were his sole source of information. And, although he learned their language enough to converse with them haltingly, so short was his stay that there were many vital facts which he was unable to learn.
“I pointed this out to him,” he added, “but he said that when we arrived, we would stay at Korakum examining the ruins, which in themselves are worth any scientists’ time and study, and in the meantime learn the Athensian language from the exiles and gain a good working knowledge of the manners and customs of the people of the hidden city and the interior plateaus.
“That, as you know, was to be our first step. Afterwards, we were to proceed as our increased knowledge dictated. If it seemed the proper thing to do, we planned to send an embassy to the Athensians, asking permission to visit their city.”
“Could it have been the exiles of Korakum, Dad, who were responsible for this raid?” asked Jack.
Mr. Hampton shook his head.
“I do not believe so,” he said. “Souchard described them as friendly to him, and as you know they aided him to return to civilization. But enough of that,” he added. “Let us hear the rest of Allola’s story.” And turning to Ali, who acted as interpreter, he asked him to bid the old woman continue.
Nothing loth, for she relished being the center of attention and had resented this conversation in a tongue she could not understand, Allola described events on the day of the raid. “The Crazy One” and Ben Hassim had been absent more than two weeks from the oasis, but as they had stayed away equally long if not longer in the past, nobody worried. On leaving they had taken food and water on their led camels sufficient for a protracted stay, and it would not be necessary to feel anxiety about them for at least another week.
In the morning, however, on looking at a calendar which “The Crazy One” had given him and which was a source of much satisfaction, as he had never before been able to keep track of the passage of days, Sheik Abraham had noticed a black mark drawn around the date. Then he had recalled that long before his friend had told him that on this day, the thirtieth of the month, friends would arrive from the east.
“That’s right,” said Mr. Hampton, while the boys nodded. “We had arranged with Professor Souchard to time ourselves so as to arrive on this day. Leaving Khartum on such and such a day, if all went well, we would spend so many days in desert travel and reach the oasis on the thirtieth.”
Allola proceeded. Noting the date and recalling “The Crazy One’s” words, the Sheik Abraham had told the tribesmen to keep a sharp look out across the southern desert, for the return of him and Ben Hassim. All day the men and women, working about the oasis, in their little farm patches or grinding oil, had paused now and again to glance to the south.
Not until late in the afternoon, however, had they descried the looked-for figures approaching. They had gone out a little way into the desert to welcome them, and it had been a triumphal procession homeward. Everybody had crowded around to hear the tale of “The Crazy One’s” latest wanderings, as explained by the merry Ben Hassim, and it had not been dreamed necessary to keep watch. No watch ever was kept, anyway, as the tribe had no enemies and few, indeed, were the travellers who came this way.
Suddenly, a body of white men, strangely-clad (like that other, said Allola, nodding toward the tent within which lay the wounded Athensian) and mounted on swift camels, dashed into the midst of the encampment. They bore short heavy swords and lances, but made no effort to harm anyone.
In number they were, perhaps, two score. Dividing, they encircled the enclosure where the whole tribe was gathered. The dozen men and the score of half grown boys of the tribe, caught without arms, were helpless to resist. All were made prisoner, the Sheik Abraham was dragged from his tent where he was conversing with “The Crazy One.” The women were brought forth. Only “The Crazy One,” rolling quickly beneath the wall of the Sheik Abraham’s tent, managed for the moment to escape. Allola saw him from her retreat beneath the Sheik Abraham’s divan, where she had thrown herself. She was overlooked.
“Then I heard his voice screaming into the devil machine,” said Allola. “And I knew he had fled to his tent and was calling upon his gods for protection. The strangers heard, too, and pursued and caught him. There was a fight. I heard, but I could not see. I lay hidden then until you came.”
Mr. Hampton looked thoughtful. “That explains some things,” he said. “Professor Souchard hurrying to get back to meet us was tracked by Athensians. Probably he had aroused some watcher’s suspicions on an earlier scouting expedition along their mountain wall, and when he appeared this time a war party was summoned. Before it could arrive, unconscious of his impending fate, he had departed. But his trail across the desert was followed, the war party pushed its animals and, although he may have had a whole day’s start, they caught up with him an hour after his arrival at the oasis. He was cut down as he called for help.”
Jack groaned. “Poor old Professor. If only we had been here. Our party, with guns, could have put the Athensians to flight in a twinkling.”
“Well, boys, that’s all for the time being,” said Mr. Hampton, at length, after some further discussion. “When we buried Professor Souchard and Ben Hassim, as you will recall, there was no mark of bullet. They had been garroted, their necks broken, in the fashion of the Hindu Thugs. Now Allola says she saw no guns among the Athensians. These two circumstances would seem to indicate they are without firearms. Nevertheless, I cannot believe that a people, keeping up an annual contact with the outside world, would be without knowledge of firearms. Besides, those of the tribesmen were taken, for there isn’t one in the oasis. Would they have taken guns without knowing their use? No, they might have suspected they were weapons and have smashed them, but they wouldn’t have carried them away. Then, too, there is this matter of carrying off the whole tribe of Sheik Abraham. What was the reason for that?”
“Probably the raiders planned to use them as slaves,” said Ali, to whom the dark secrets of the slave-raiders who still practice their trade in many places in the heart of the Dark Continent from the Abyssinian borders on the east to the Niger and Kongo territory, were not unknown.
“Perhaps,” said Mr. Hampton, slowly. “If the tribesmen were to be used as slaves, that would indicate why their lives were spared. But it is also possibly the Athensians suspected Professor Souchard might have imparted information regarding their country, and they were taking no chances on leaving any witness against them behind.”
Days succeeded during which the party marked time. Mr. Hampton was resolved to take no further steps until first having a talk with the wounded Athensian. He was showing signs of recovery, and was being fed broth at intervals, but was delirious. Should he return to his senses, Mr. Hampton planned to question him in his own tongue. From Professor Souchard he had acquired an elementary vocabulary in that language as taught the latter by the Athensian exiles in Korakum.
In the meantime, after exhausting the possibilities of the oasis and its small vegetable farms and flocks of sheep and goats, which had been left behind by the raiders, the boys found time hanging pretty heavy on their hands.
Frank had more to occupy him than his comrades, as he was intent on making good on his boast that the radio station could be repaired. Almost every waking hour he spent in this occupation.
Ali’s stories of African life helped somewhat to while away the time for all. This swarthy-cheeked, hawk-nosed Arab had poked his nose into every corner of northern Africa. And, when one considers that the Sahara Desert alone is more than 3,250,000 square miles in extent, or the size of all of the continent of Europe, that meant Ali had done a lot of poking. He was intimately acquainted with the life of every Mediterranean city from Tangiers and Morocco to Port Said. He had crossed the desert by every camel route. He knew the great mountain of Asben in the middle of the Sahara. He had travelled to Timbuktu. He had penetrated to Lake Schad and the sources of the Nile, and had voyaged on the Niger. In a word, Ali was a mine of information on northern Africa.
Putting two and two together, he was able even to say he had heard of the Athensians before the Professor brought their existence to his attention. Not that he heard of them by that name, however. He told about it at the camp fire one night, while Jack threw on the blaze several handsful of dried coarse grass and the light leaped high, bringing out the curious faces of the boys and Mr. Hampton and the impassive features of the Arabs.
It was from another Arab, a slave trader who had been to Gao, that Ali had the tale. This man Ali encountered at a desert oasis one night. It had been years before.
“We were the first travellers who had visited that oasis in a long time,” said Ali. “Some of these isolated oasis are the homes of robbers who raid caravans. But like Sheik Abraham, this sheik was a harmless and pleasant old fellow. He made us feel welcome. We sat on little grass mats on each side of him in front of his tent. Before us was a blazing fire on which his favorite wife now and then, would throw a stick of wood or some grass. She was young, veiled, and her hands were elaborately tattooed. Silver bracelets and ankle-rings jingled at every step. Yes, evidently she was the old patriarch’s favorite wife.
“It was very pleasant sitting there, and the woman brought us bowls of kous-kous-soo and tiny brass cups of sweet Moorish coffee on a tray. After eating, we lighted cigarettes and began to talk. We felt it was our duty to tell strange stories of our adventures in order to repay our host’s courtesies. He was a man who did not travel, and it was our duty to entertain.”
All paused a long time, staring impassively into the fire. At length he resumed:
“Well, the talk passed from this to that, and presently this slave trader began to tell of a strange people from whom every year came to the slave marts of Gao a delegation seeking strong men.
“‘With them,’ he said, ‘comes a man who can speak to Frenchman, Arab, Berber, Tuareg, all the peoples of the desert, in his own tongue, a man who speaks many Negro dialects, too. He is the leader. There are two minor chieftains and a guard of two score men armed with short swords, lances and Arab rifles. The rifles have very long barrels and much silver work on the stocks. They are worth a great deal of money.
“‘On the outskirts of Gao this party encamps, while a picked force of ten warriors accompanies the three leaders into the slave bazaars. As you know, we dealers traffic in all sorts of human cattle. We have Negroes from many different tribes, captured in battle and sold us by the victors. Arabs, Tuaregs, Berbers, also come to us from those who have captured them in the fight. Even white men, Frenchmen and Spaniards, captured in Morocco and Algiers and Tripoli by fierce tribesmen, like the Riff tribes who are forever fighting the Spaniards in the Atlas mountains, reach us for sale into slavery—’”
“Oh, come, now, Ali,” interrupted Mr. Hampton, good-naturedly, “that’s a bit too thick.”
Ali shrugged. “Many things go on in Africa which the whites cannot stop,” he said, simply. “It is true, this I tell you.”
“But white men,” protested Mr. Hampton.
“What think you, then, becomes of the men taken prisoner from the French and Spanish and Italian foreign legions when detachments are trapped in the desert?” asked Ali. “They are not butchered. No, they are too valuable. Some desert sheik or the kaid of some desert city buys them for slaves.”
“All right,” said Mr. Hampton. “Go on.”
He was quite convinced, yet he knew enough of the mystery of this vast land to many parts of which white men never even had penetrated to this day, to realize what Ali described was not impossible.
“‘Then,’ said this slave trader,” continued Ali, “‘these strangers select the very strongest and youngest of the men, be they white, black or brown. Unless a man is of exceptional strength he is not chosen. Sometimes they select only two or three, sometimes a dozen.
“‘Only once have I been at Gao when these strangers appeared. Much had I heard about them. My curiosity was excited. That time I had among my slaves a very strong man, a man of the Kongs. He was a full six feet tall, beautifully proportioned, with a fine intelligent head and a brown body like mahogany. He was only twenty-one.
“‘The leader of the strangers came to me and pointed out this man. He spoke in Arabic. He wanted to know the Kong’s antecedents, and I said he had been taken in battle only after he had slain five Bakus, being finally entrapped in a net thrown over his head and arms.
“‘He took the Kong without even asking my price, which was high. As he turned to go, I said on the impulse, “Whence come you?” He stared at me haughtily. For a moment I thought either he would not answer or else would order his guards to cut me down. Then he laughed, a wild, reckless laugh. My blood chilled. “I come from the country of the past and of the future,” said he. Then he was gone.
“‘I made inquiries. But from none could I learn more than I have told. Slave traders come and go. Within the memory of the oldest of us, reaching back fifteen or twenty years, this stranger had come once each year to the slave marts. For how long before that he had come, I do not know. None ever had pursued him into the east, to see whence he came. That is all.’
“So,” concluded Ali, “I have since been thinking. That man was a big chief among the Athensians, if not the greatest leader himself. Who he is, how he has acquired a knowledge of many languages, I do not know. That he and his people are white, of course, is not so marvellous, as the Berbers and Arabs are white races, and so are the Kabyles who inhabit the mountains of Morocco.”
Mr. Hampton nodded. “An offshoot of the white race which has maintained a splendid isolation in those mountains south of us, undoubtedly. Yet how this leader acquired his knowledge of civilization puzzles me. And why, Ali, are these annual expeditions to Gao made? And only the strongest slaves selected?”
Ali shrugged. “It is for Allah to say,” he replied, and lapsed into silence. Evidently, for that night, the loquacious Ali had said all he intended to say.
His story, however, furnished Mr. Hampton with food for reflection and on several occasions he discussed the matter with the boys. Especially, did he note that the slave trader’s account, as repeated by Ali, betrayed that the Athensians possessed rifles. This made them more dangerous enemies.
“In fact, boys,” he concluded, one day, after a lengthy discussion, “I have become pretty firmly convinced that these Athensians cannot be peacefully approached as had been our original intention. Therefore, we shall have to abandon the expedition. I shall wait a few days more to see whether this man recovers sufficiently to be moved, and then, if we can gain nothing from him in response to questioning, we shall set out to return.”
“What,” cried Jack in dismay, “leave without attempting to learn what we came all this way to discover?”
His father nodded gravely. “Professor Souchard and Ben Hassim have been slain,” he said. “Sheik Abraham and all his tribe have been carried into slavery. Quite evidently, the Athensians want no intruders and we would only imperil our lives by pursuing our investigations further.”
“But what’ll you do, Dad?”
“I shall lay the matter before the French and British governments. Now that the Great War is over, it may receive attention. They can send embassies, supported with sufficient power to compel recognition. Then, it is possible, the Athensians will yield on being shown no menace to their freedom threatens, and may admit scientists to their mountains to study the ruins of Korakum and the library of Athensi, if such really exists.”
“Dad,” asked Jack, after a pause, “I know I’ve spoken of this before, but I can’t get it out of my mind. Isn’t it possible the Professor may have been deluded, that all he told you was a creation of fancy?”
“No, there was this raid on the oasis, the description of the raiders, this wounded captive, and Ali’s story of the annual visit of the Athensians to the slave marts of Gao.”
“Granted all that,” Jack stubbornly objected, “yet it does seem nothing short of miraculous that a city such as Athensi should exist unknown to the rest of the world.”
“Well, but, Jack,” interrupted Bob, while Mr. Hampton approvingly nodded, “look at Llassa, the Secret City of Thibet. Only one white man has ever penetrated it and lived to tell the tale. And that is in the heart of Asia, the oldest continent known to civilization, while here is Athensi in the heart of a continent which is still in many parts unexplored.”
Jack threw up his hands in token of surrender. “All right, old thing,” he said. “I’m just as keen as you to carry this through, and I was just arguing. I do wish father would continue with it, but I suppose his plan is the best.”
“Ali, come here. Take a look through these glasses and tell me what you see,” called big Bob early one morning.
As he spoke he was approaching the encampment, where the Arabs were preparing breakfast, at a run.
Ali looked up inquiringly, and Bob grasped him by an arm and urged him forward, past the well, through the patches of garden stuff, down among a grove of fig trees, to the edge of the oasis. They were facing eastward, and the sun which had not been up long cast a dazzling radiance over the sand dunes. These latter lay scattered indiscriminately, like the waves in a choppy sea—great bare swellings of sand, with here and there low stunted clumps of bush.
At first, gazing into the path of the sun, Ali could descry nothing, but under Bob’s direction he finally located what had attracted the other’s attention. This was a number of dark black objects seeming like bushes in motion. But Ali’s better-trained desert eye solved what had merely been a puzzle to Bob, and without taking the glasses from his eyes he exclaimed
“Ostriches.”
“Ostriches?” Big Bob could hardly believe he had heard aright. “Why, you don’t find ostriches here, do you? I thought the only ones left in Africa were the domesticated ones on South African farms.”
Ali smiled.
“They run wild in the waste places and on the desert,” he said.
“Great Scott,” cried Bob, in high excitement, a sudden thought striking him. “Can’t we break the monotony by having an ostrich hunt? Even if we don’t catch any, it’ll be fun.”
“To hunt those birds we should have horses,” said Ali, dubiously. “They run very swift. With horses, the hunters pursue them in a great circle, relays of horsemen relieving the tired ones.”
“But won’t camels do?” Bob was eager to put his scheme into effect and an appealing note crept into his voice which caused the kind-hearted Ali to smile.
“We can try,” he said. “Only you must not be too disappointed, if you see them run away from you.”
“All right,” promised Bob. “I won’t. Come on, let’s tell everybody,”
They hurried back to the encampment and Bob’s bellow quickly caused the others to assemble. Then the news was told. It aroused less enthusiasm than Bob had looked for. None of the Arabs was keen, to go, believing that with camels it would be next to impossible to run any ostrich to ground. Besides, what would they stand to profit? Ostrich meat is tough, stringy and practically inedible. The great bird’s sole good to man is to provide feathers for women’s adornment. As for Frank, he planned to put the finishing touches to the restored radio set and could not be turned aside from his project. Mr. Hampton intended to stick by his patient who was beginning to mutter in his delirium. Most of his mutterings were in Athensian, which Mr. Hampton could recognize as such but which was meaningless to him. But in the midst of Athensian words, he believed he could distinguish an occasional French word, and this puzzled and interested him.
“Well,” said Bob, disappointed, “if nobody else goes, Ali and I will go it alone.”
Jack grinned. “Count me in, old thing,” he said. “I’m as keen as you for a little excitement. Only thing is, I hate to ride those dratted camels. But what must be, must be. Let’s go.”
Three camels were brought up, accordingly, and saddled, and then Ali, Bob and Jack mounted and ambled away. Mr. Hampton accompanied them to the edge of the desert, warning them to look out that they did not come to close quarters with an infuriated ostrich, especially if by any chance they were unarmed.
“These African ostriches stand seven or eight feet tall, boys,” he warned, “and they have tricky tempers. If by any chance you become dismounted and an ostrich charges, throw yourself flat on the sand and stay there. Then the ostrich can’t kick you. He’ll probably sit on you, but hold your position until one of your comrades can come up and shoot him. Remember, the ostrich kicks forward or sidewise, and a blow from his powerful leg can cave in a man’s head or break a horse’s leg.”
“All right, Dad, we’ll be careful,” promised Jack, “but it’s hardly likely we’ll ever get to close quarters. I imagine when the ostriches see us coming, they’ll give a flirt of their tails and sail away.”
During the time taken for saddling up and getting started, the ostrich herd had moved eastward and now was out of sight, even through the glasses. Ali led for the place where they had been seen, and as they rode gave the boys a little homily on the great birds they hoped soon to stalk.
Ostriches are found throughout Africa, except in the central and coastal regions of great forests. Especially do they haunt the waste places and deserts, where stunted bushes furnish sufficient food for their needs. Their hardihood and fleetness makes life possible where other animals could not exist. Even sand and pebbles apparently can be digested by them, and it is a fact that the domesticated ostriches of farms and zoos have been known to swallow glass, barbed wire, bright-colored bits of metal, bed springs, and other similar objects.
Unfit for food, these great birds are valued because of their beautiful feathers, which can be plucked at certain seasons of the year without harm to them. For this reason, the Arabs of northern Africa and the colonists of South Africa for long have domesticated ostriches. In South Africa alone, latest estimates were that the number of domestic ostriches was between 800,000 and 900,000. Ostrich-raising also has been introduced into California and Arizona with varying success. One of the chief worries of the ostrich raiser is proper incubation of the eggs, which take at least forty days to hatch and more frequently a full seven weeks.
In their wild state, the ostriches lay their nests of great eggs—ivory white in color among the birds of the Sahara, mottled among those of Basutoland and South Africa—on the top of a sand dune, whence they can see in all directions and guard against surprise. The male takes his turn with the female in sitting on the nest. Jackals, drawn by the chance of obtaining some of these eggs, almost invariably haunt the ostriches. When an unguarded nest is found, the jackal pushes a big egg up the sand slope with his nose and then lets it roll down into the nest. Coming into contact with another egg, usually both become cracked. Then the jackal sucks the contents. There is so little on the desert to feed the jackal that the dangers he runs from the attack of an infuriated ostrich are braved in order to obtain such a succulent feast. Observers have reported seeing a jackal pursued by an ostrich and running in zigzag fashion for his burrow. If he fails to reach it in time, one swipe of the ostrich’s leg tosses him yards away and disembowels him.
When the desert people conduct an ostrich hunt, it is for the purpose of capturing birds to be incorporated into their herds. They go out in numbers on fleet horses, circle widely to fixed stations, and the chase begins. The fleeing ostrich for a time can outrun the swiftest horse. Therefore, the pursuer keeps going until his horse lags, whereupon he gives way to another horseman. A desert creature, strangely enough the ostrich is not inured to great heat, and sometimes when being pursued under a hot sun will suddenly keel over, dead of apoplexy.
Some of the above Ali explained to the boys as they lurched forward on camel-back. It was not their intention to kill an ostrich, but, if possible, to capture one. For this purpose, Ali had provided lengths of rope, weighted at each end, which if well cast would wrap around the legs of an ostrich and bring it down. Bags to be clapped over the head also had been provided. Ali smiled discreetly to himself, however, realizing that on camel-back and without practise, it was next to impossible that either Jack or Bob would succeed in bagging an ostrich.
The latter pair, however, while resolved to do their best, given the opportunity, were under no illusion, either. They did not count on capturing an ostrich. What they sought was a closer view of them, a chase and the attendant excitement. That would repay them for the trip, would provide a welcome break in the dullness of their days.
Before leaving, each had taken with him a small radio receiving set, fastened in the crown of the solar topee or sun hat. It differed materially from the set Frank had borne on camel back as they approached the oasis, and over which they had received Professor Souchard’s last message. This set was built on a small panel fastened on the inside of the sun helmet. To use it, it would be necessary to halt and set up an aerial and bury a ground. The ground, a small mass of zinc, was carried slung to Bob’s saddle, and the aerial—seventy-five feet of thin wire, hung coiled in the same place. A pair of jointed steel rods, of special construction, both light and durable, was strapped to his rifle scabbard. Before returning, it was planned to set up the aerial, and test whether Frank had succeeded in repairing the Professor’s sending station.
Presently, surmounting a sand dune slightly in advance of the others, while Bob and Jack still struggled up its sliding slopes, Ali placing the glasses to his eyes saw the ostriches due east and about a mile and a half away. He dropped back at once, cautioning the boys to stay beside him rather than surmount the dune.
“Ostriches have very good sight, and almost as good hearing,” he explained. “I will stay here, and do you two work to right and left of me under shelter of these sand dunes until you judge we have the herd encircled. Then I’ll approach and start them. You keep your stations until I turn over the chase to one or other of you. The ostriches will run in a wide circle.”
“All right,” said Bob. “I’m off.” And he started away to the left.
With a wave of the hand, Jack set out to the right, little dreaming of the momentous events to occur before he saw Bob again.
As Bob rode along on camel-back in the lee of the sand dunes, there was never a thought of danger in his mind. The Sahara is not like the great grassy steppes of Siberia or the plains of western America, which are flat and level as a table top and across which one can see for miles in every direction. On the contrary, this great African desert is filled with shifting sand dunes, low hills of sand, which are whipped away when the strong winds blow and change their position, piling up in new drifts.
In appearance it was now to Bob’s eye like the sea when waves were kicking up. In the trough of these sandy waves he made his way forward, exercising care in advancing from the shelter of one dune to another to keep below the crests.
It was lonesome riding, under the baking sun, in that land of stillness, without sign nor sound of any human being. He had an eerie feeling, as if something were about to happen. But he shook this off, and laughed at himself. Merely a touch of nerves, he thought, due to the loneliness of the surroundings.
Before setting out, it had been decided he and Jack would have to ride a good half hour away from their starting point, from the place where Ali was posted, before they would be in the proper position. Therefore, looking at his watch now and again, he kept on without exposing himself to gain sight of the ostrich herd, until the full half hour had elapsed. It seemed to him a much longer time, and if it had not been for his watch he would have been tempted several times to clamber up a sand dune and look around.
When at length, the allotted time having elapsed, he did urge his camel up the top of the nearest sand dune, there was no sign either of ostriches or of his companions. Far in the distance could be seen the tops of the palm trees of the oasis, dwarfed and beautiful as a painting against the blue sky. All else was hidden from his sight.
“Shucks,” thought Bob, “in dodging to keep below the tops of the sand hills, I must have gotten off my course.”
That, in reality, was what had occurred. Instead of the small circle he had planned to make, which would have put him on the point of an arc a third of the way around the herd from Ali’s station, he had borne off the course gradually but surely in his attempts to remain hidden. Moreover, he had gotten into a region of larger sand dunes, so big they amounted to low hills.
“Who knows,” he grumbled aloud, wanting to hear his own voice for the sense of oppression had grown stronger, “who knows, the ostriches may be over the next dune or so, and I just can’t see them from here. Well, there’s the oasis, and I can make for it if worse comes to worse. But I’d feel like a jackass to go back and say I went and got myself lost.”
As he spoke he was swinging the glasses slowly over the surrounding country.
“Confound the luck,” he grumbled again, when unrewarded, “believe I’ll fire a shot or two. If Ali or Jack hears, he’ll answer.”
Unlimbering his repeating rifle, he threw it to his shoulder, aiming for the crest of a nearby sand dune, and pressed the trigger. The report followed, and a spurt of sand showed the accuracy of his aim. Again he pressed the trigger. But this time the gun failed to be discharged.
In surprise, Bob bent down to examine it. What could be the matter? Evidently, the mechanism had become jammed. Must have forgotten to clean it, and, perhaps, the all-pervasive desert sand had clogged it. A pretty note, he thought, and experienced a momentary feeling of panic. What if it had happened at a time when he needed it to protect his life? The thought made him shudder, and glance around quickly.
Then a sight met his eyes at which words failed him. For a moment, he sat as if paralyzed, unable to move or even to think.
Ten horsemen had filed silently, soundlessly, from behind the shoulder of the sand dunes in his rear. They were already almost upon him. From momentary paralysis, Bob’s mind leaped into lightning-like activity. He saw his escape toward Ali and Jack was cut off on one side, and on the other his retreat toward the oasis.
It would be useless to attempt to flee, for his camel soon would be overtaken by the swifter horses, if he were not shot down in the meantime. For that first swift appraising glance assured him these men were armed with long Arab rifles.
In the same glance, he noted something else which made his heart skip a beat. These men, tanned though they were, were recognizable as white men. And they were dressed exactly as was the wounded Athensian, lying delirious at the oasis, in fact they were Athensians, in short toga-like garments, bare legs and soft leather moccasins.
All these observations and thoughts passed through Bob’s mind in a moment. He had a wild idea of throwing himself from his camel, causing the latter to kneel, and from behind it, as from behind a bulwark, fighting off the attackers. For, that they intended harm to him, Bob felt assured. But even in the moment of leaping from the saddle, he realized the futility of such procedure. His rifle was out of commission.
What should he do? The party was closing in. Bob gave one wild searching glance to the south, where he had left Ali and Jack. They were nowhere in sight. Neither, for that matter, were the ostriches.
Under other circumstances, Bob would have made a fight for his liberty with his bare hands. Those of our readers who have followed his career under other skies know well what a superb wrestler is Bob. And with the additional weight and strength of an added year or two, Bob was now a wrestler and boxer second to none. But even as the thought of grappling with the leader entered his head, he saw by the loosening of rifles in the hands of others that his first movement would bring a swarm of bullets his way.