The delay was inevitable, and we waited as patiently as we could for the messenger’s return. That evening we entertained the sheik and his chief men at dinner aboard the ship, and before they returned to the shore they vowed undying friendship for us all, including Nux and Bryonia. My father’s cork leg especially won their admiration and respect, and they declared he must be a very great and famous Captain in his own country to be entrusted with the command of so noble and so beautiful a ship. We told them he was. The Professor added that next to the President himself all Americans revered Captain Steele, who had won many battles fighting against his country’s enemies. I was amused at this absurd description, but it afterward served us a good turn, and perhaps preserved our lives.
The next day we visited the bazar, where unimportant articles were offered for sale, and as the sheik was himself the principal owner we purchased considerable rubbish that we had no use for, just to keep the rascals good natured.
On the third day, at about sunset, the messenger returned, and to our surprise he was accompanied by a train of fifteen camels—all fine, strong specimens of these desert steeds.
He had brought bad news for the sheik, though. Gege-Merak had consented to guide the strangers in person, but he would supply all the camels, tents, and blankets himself, and receive all the hire for them. Moreover, the armed escort must be all from his own tribe; no dog of an Arab should have anything to do with his caravan.
The sheik frowned, cursed the impudent Bega, and swore he would not allow his dear friends, the Americans, to fall into Gege-Merak’s power.
Uncle Naboth and I went out and examined the escort. They were handsome, well-formed fellows, with good features and dark, bronze hued complexions. Their limbs were slender and almost delicately formed, yet promised strength and agility. I decided at once that these men looked less like robbers than the stealthy-eyed, sly-moving Arabs of the village.
The Ababdeh—for the Bega warriors belonged to this caste—sat their camels stolidly and in silence, awaiting the acceptance or rejection of the offer of their chieftain. They were dressed in coarse woolen robes colored in brilliant native hues, but they wore no head covering except their luxuriant, bushy hair, which formed a perfect cloud around their faces and seemed to me nearly a foot in thickness. In their girdles were short knives and each man carried slung across his back a long, slender rifle with an elaborately engraved silver stock.
My uncle agreed with me that the escort looked manly and brave. We concluded there was a way to satisfy the sheik, so we went back to him and offered to pay a liberal sum for his permission to engage Gege-Merak. He graciously consented, although he warned us that the desert Bega were not the safest people in the world to intrust with our lives and that only the fear of consequences would prevent the Ababdeh chief from murdering us and rifling our bodies.
The Professor, however, had no such fears. He confided to us his opinion that we were fortunate in having no Arabs in our party. In case we chanced to encounter Abdul Hashim, the Bega would be more likely to prove faithful than would the Koser Arabs. All Arabs hate Christians in their hearts, added the Professor, and most of the desert tribes, who had existed in Egypt long before the Arabs overran the country, hated the Mussulmans as much as the latter hated the Christians. The Ababdeh tribes were natural thieves; he could not deny that; but he had reason to hope for our safe return from our adventure.
For my part I pinned my faith to our stalwart escort of American sailors, thinking in my pride and ignorance that any one of them would be worth six Bega or Arabs if it came to a fight, and forgetting that the desert is a prison to those who do not know its trackless wilds.
Desiring as little delay as possible we loaded the camels that evening with provisions from our ship and the light baggage, taking no more of the latter than was absolutely necessary. Bryonia, who was going with the party, insisted on carrying certain pots and pans with which to provide proper meals while en route, and these the Bega looked upon with absolute disdain. But I was glad to see our cook’s provision for our comfort, since we were to be gone eight or nine days at the least.
Next morning we mounted the camels and set out. After some careful figuring we had organized our party as follows: The Professor first, of course; then Uncle Naboth, Archie Ackley, Joe, and myself. My father made some objection to three boys joining the party, but it was an adventure in which any boy would be eager to participate, and Joe begged so hard to go along and was so devoted to me personally that I argued the matter until Captain Steele gave in and consented. My father thought he could not ride a camel in comfort because of his cork leg, so he remained aboard to look after the ship. He let Ned Britton join us, though, and three sailors, all loyal fellows and splendid specimens of American manhood. This completed our party of nine. We were all armed with revolvers and repeating rifles, and felt that in case of attack or interference we could give a good account of ourselves.
The weather was warm at this season, but when we started, soon after dawn, a gentle breeze was coming over the desert and we set out in good spirits in spite of the fact that the motion of the camels caused us to sway awkwardly in our tall saddles. We should get used to this motion in time, the Professor assured us; but at first it jolted us terribly.
It seemed as if the entire population of the village had assembled to see us start, and from their looks they evidently considered us little less than madmen. The sheik wished us a safe journey and promised in the hearing of the Bega to avenge us in case we met with treachery; but at the same time, he told the Professor privately, he refused to guarantee our savage escort in any particular.
Bidding my father and the crew of the Seagull a cheery farewell, we left Koser and began our journey across the desert.
The Ababdeh were silent fellows, but when I questioned them I found that at least two of their number understood and spoke English fairly well. They did not waste words in expressing themselves, but seemed intelligent and respectful in their demeanor toward us.
Our progress the first day was slow, for the way was across heavy sands that tired the camels to walk upon. We made a halt for luncheon and at about sundown reached the encampment of the Bega chief, Gege-Merak. It was situated on a tiny oasis of the desert, which boasted a well of good water and a group of a dozen tall spreading date-palms. Under the palms were set the chief houses of the village, made of mud and thatched with palm leaves; but the huts of the people extended also out upon the desert, on all sides of the oasis. These mainly consisted of low walls of mud roofed with squares of canvas, and none save the house of the chieftain was high enough for a man to stand upright within it.
The village in the oasis.
I was surprised at the number of this isolated tribe of Bega, and it was a wonder to me how they all managed to subsist. They had many goats and camels and a small herd of buffalo-cows—too many, seemingly, to crop the scant herbage of the oasis; but there was no attempt at agriculture that I could discover.
We halted before the house of the chief, and after conferring together our escort conducted my uncle, the Professor, and myself into the building. We found ourselves in a large, cool room, lighted and aired by open spaces between the top of the walls and the roof. At the rear was a dark passage, doubtless leading into other apartments, but the appearance of the interior was extremely primitive and unattractive.
Upon a rush mat at one side of the room sat a young girl, her slender form graceful and upright, her dark eyes fixed curiously upon us. She seemed about fifteen years of age, but may have been two or three years younger, for the women of these desert gypsies mature early in life. Her hair, unlike that of the other Bega we had seen, was not bushy and cloudlike, but its luxuriant tresses were heavily plaited into several braids, two hanging in front over either shoulder and two others dropping behind her back. On her arms or ankles were broad bands or bracelets of silver, some of them set with odd stones of strange colors and shapes. Golden bangles—perhaps Persian or Arabian coins—were strung together on wires and woven into the braids of her hair. She wore a robe of some thin, strong material which was striped in alternate bands of scarlet and green—a robe more becoming than its description sounds, I think—and across her rounded shoulders was folded a Syrian scarf covered with rich embroidery.
The girl was undeniably handsome. She would have been conspicuous by reason of her beauty in any civilized community. Here, surrounded by a barbaric desert tribe, she seemed a veritable daughter of Venus.
I could not stare long at this gracious sight, for beside the girl sat, or rather squatted, a personage whose powerful individuality compelled attention.
Gege-Merak—for I did not doubt I beheld the chief—was a withered, wrinkled old man scarce five feet in height when standing upright, a veritable dwarf among his handsome, well formed subjects. One eye—the right one—was gone, and across the sightless cavity and reaching from his cheek to his forehead, was a broad, livid scar as from the slash of a knife or a sword-cut. The other eye, small and glittering, regarded us with a glare as disconcerting as that of a snake, it being set in his face deep amid the folds of wrinkled flesh. His chin protruded and his thin lips were closed together in a straight line, while his bushy hair was snow-white in color, denoting great age.
I own I was amazed to find the famous chief so different from his people; and when I realized that we had voluntarily put our lives into the keeping of this old, evil-featured Bega, I began to suspect there was a foundation for the Arab sheik’s persistent croak of danger. Still, as Gege-Merak sat huddled upon his mat, motionless save for that roving, terrible eye, it occurred to me that he was too old and feeble to lead the caravan himself, as he had sent word to us that he would do, and without doubt would delegate the task to some other.
At our entrance the warriors knelt to their chief and crouched subserviently their foreheads to the mat; but afterward they stood erect in a group at one side. They neither saluted nor appeared to notice the girl at all.
“So,” said Gege-Merak, in a quiet voice and speaking excellent English. “Here are the travelers who wish to be led to Luxor. What is your errand there?”
He looked from one to another of us, and I took upon myself to answer him, as the Professor seemed to hesitate.
“Sir, that is our business alone,” I declared, stiffly. “All that we require from you is your camels, your warriors to guard us, and a guide.”
“I am rebuked, Effendi,” said he, fixing his small eye upon me with a penetrating gaze, but exhibiting no humility in his tones. After a slight pause: “Do you agree to my price in return for the service you require?”
“Yes; you are to receive one hundred English pounds.”
“In advance,” he added, softly.
“One-half in advance,” said I. “The remainder when we have returned in safety.”
“Let me see the money.”
I produced a bag containing fifty gold pounds, and stooping down counted them out upon the mat before him. He watched me silently.
“Now I will see the other fifty,” he said.
I began to dislike the chief; but now the Professor said, somewhat to my surprise.
“Pay him the full amount, Mr. Steele; it will be better that way.”
“Why?” I asked, turning to him rather angrily.
“Because the great chief is suspicious of our honesty, and we want him to believe we are honest. Also because Gege-Merak’s word is sacred, and he will be faithful when he is paid. For a third reason, it will be just as well for you not to carry that gold across the desert and back again, when the chief is able to put it away in a safe place before we begin the journey.”
Gege-Merak listened carefully and it was evident he approved this argument. But he said nothing and merely looked at me inquiringly.
Of course, if the natives would prove faithful, the Professor’s plan of advance payment was best. After a look toward Uncle Naboth, which he answered with a nod, I drew out another fifty pounds and counted it upon the mat beside the first.
“Now, Gege-Merak,” said I, “you are paid in full.”
The cruel little eye of the chief twinkled brightly at sight of all this golden display, but he made no motion to gather it up. Instead, he turned his keen glance first upon me and then upon the others of our party, as if striving to gauge our thoughts, and read our secret characters.
“I will see the other Americans,” he finally said.
The Professor summoned Ned Britton, Archie, Joe, Bry, and the sailors, and soon they all stood wonderingly before the Bega chief. He examined each one with silent interest, down to the smallest item of attire. He nodded and asked them to again withdraw.
“Effendi,” said he, addressing me when the others were gone, “you are deceiving me in regard to your errand. Your party is strong and heavily armed. You ask me for brave warriors to assist you, and for my own services as guide. All this is not usual with peaceful traders or travelers who wish to cross the desert to Luxor on an errand of simple business. Another thing. You willingly pay me a big price—more than my service is really worth. Again, you ask for two extra camels, bearing empty saddle-bags. Therefore you have a secret intention you do not reveal to me. The little red-beard’s eyes are bright with fever. You all expect trouble. You may get me mixed with your trouble, so that the authorities will imprison me and scatter my tribe. I am a good subject of the mighty Sultan and our father the Khedive. Therefore I refuse the compact. Take your gold, Effendi, and return to Koser.”
This speech of the wily chief fairly took away my breath. Uncle Naboth seemed disappointed, and the Professor trembled nervously. I am sure our various emotions were clearly apparent to Gege-Merak, for his roving eye bore an expression of grim amusement.
It was the Professor who finally answered. He knew the covert disposition of these strange people better than we did.
“See, then, my brother, how much we trust in your friendship and honesty,” said he. “Our errand is indeed twofold, as you have wisely suspected. One part is to permit the young effendi, Archie Ackley, whom you have just seen, to collect pay for his wares from certain merchants in Luxor. The second part of our errand is to permit me to secure some property belonging to me which I left concealed in a part of the desert near Karnak. Our bargain with you is to guide and escort us safely to these places and enable us to bring back to our ship at Koser the property I have mentioned and young Ackley’s payments from the merchants. For our purpose of transportation the two extra camels will be sufficient. But we shall have no trouble with the authorities, because we intend to commit no crime and break no law of the land. I will not conceal from you the fact that I am at enmity with a miserable Arab sheik named Abdul Hashim, who lives upon the desert near Luxor and who might try to prevent me from securing my property if he knew I had come for it. He does not suspect my journey at present, and I hope to avoid him altogether, since he is just now under the displeasure of the Khedive’s police, which has destroyed his village and scattered his lawless band. But we must go armed in case the Arab dares to molest us, and part of your liberal payment is to fight well for us if there should be need. Also, bands of robbers infest the desert, and we do not wish to be robbed on our journey. So we take all needful precautions. Is the great and wise chief, my brother, now satisfied?”
Gege-Merak was silent for a time, thoughtfully studying the mat at his feet. Then he replied:
“I know Abdul Hashim. He is a jackal. I know the police have destroyed his village, as you truly say; but he is rebuilding it. Abdul Hashim has powerful friends, and he will fight his foes in spite of our father the Khedive. If I accept your offer I may lose many camels and men. Also I make a foe forever of Abdul Hashim and his tribe. No; I will not consent; the hundred gold pounds is not enough.”
He had caught us fairly. I saw plainly enough that we must either abandon the adventure altogether or consent to be robbed at the start by this grasping Bega. The Professor asked permission for us to withdraw and consult together, and we went into the open air to hold a conference.
Uncle Naboth asked the Professor how much he judged the treasure to be worth. We had already invested a considerable sum in the speculation and were about to risk our lives as well.
Van Dorn could only estimate the amount of the treasure, of which he had obtained merely a glimpse. But he thought its total value could not possibly equal less than five hundred thousand pounds, or two and a half million dollars in American money. It was well worth doubling the chief’s bribe, he urged, and we all were loth to retreat on the eve of our adventure. We decided to win Gege-Merak’s support at all hazards, and presently stood again in the presence of the chief.
He sat just as we had left him, with the beautiful, statuesque girl at his side, and the money still spread before him on the mat.
“Brother,” said the Professor, “we have counselled together and decided that your demands are not unfriendly. For your powerful support, for the risk you take and the assurance that you will stand by us bravely and faithfully, we will double the price first agreed upon. Twenty pounds more we will give you now. It is all the remaining money we brought with us. But upon our return to the ship we will give you eighty pounds in addition, making two hundred pounds in all. Does this satisfy you?”
“No,” was the quiet answer. “Give me the twenty pounds and your writing to pay me one hundred and eighty pounds more on our return to the ship and I shall be content. If any of my men are killed in fighting I will say nothing. If any of your party is killed you shall not blame me in any way. Make a writing as I have said and I will be true to you. This is my last word.”
I groaned in spirit at the necessity, but I tore a leaf from my notebook and with my fountain pen wrote the agreement. Uncle Naboth and the Professor added their signatures to mine. It was a great sum in Egypt, this fifteen hundred dollars, and we had promised not to hold Gege-Merak responsible if any of us lost our lives in the venture. But the Professor assured us we had won a powerful ally and that the investment was warranted by our necessity.
I gave the Bega chief the paper, which I felt sure he could not read, and counted out our remaining twenty pounds upon the mat. Thereupon he spoke to the girl in his native tongue, for the Bega have a language of their own, although they usually speak a hybrid Arabic. She leaned forward, calmly gathered up the money in her scarf, arose and left the room by the dark passage. She was tall for her age and moved with grace and dignity.
“At daybreak,” said Gege-Merak, “the caravan will be ready to start. I shall go with you. To-night my brothers will sleep in a house prepared for you. Ketti will lead you to it.”
The young warrior who had guided us to the village from Koser now came forward and bowed to us respectfully. We nodded farewell to the chief and followed Ketti to a large house of one bare room, where our entire party shortly assembled. Bry had already brought out his pots and pans and soon a good supper was ready for us. Appetites are keen upon the desert, and the evening was already well advanced when we had finished the repast. Soon after, tired by our first day of camel riding, we rolled ourselves in our blankets and fell asleep.
I was roused even before daybreak by the noise and shouting in the village. Every inhabitant seemed astir and in a state of wild excitement, yet there was nothing for our party to do but fold our blankets and eat the breakfast our black cook quickly served us. At first we stumbled around blindly in the gloom, but gradually the sky grew lighter, until suddenly the first red beams of the sun shot over the edge of the desert. Beside the well and just in front of the chief’s house the camels were assembled, all bridled and saddled and ready for the journey. We took the beasts assigned us and mounted to our places while the obedient creatures knelt to receive their burdens. The entire population of the village stood around, silent now, but observant, to watch the start.
When we were ready I noticed that two of the camels still knelt awaiting their riders. They bore gorgeous trappings, the saddles being studded with brass and silver ornaments. The delay was brief, for soon the little old chief came from his house, followed by the girl we had seen the night before.
I had wondered how Gege-Merak, who had seemed to be nothing more than a withered, dried-up mummy, could by any possibility be able to lead the caravan in person; but now, to my surprise, he advanced with swift steps, agile and light as the tread of a panther, and seated himself upon his kneeling camel. His one bright eye roved over the assembled villagers, who all prostrated themselves an instant before resuming their former upright positions. The chief was clad in the same bright colored burnous he had worn the night before. An old-fashioned pistol was stuck in his sash and at his side hung a Turkish cimetar with a jeweled handle. When his camel had risen to its feet Gege-Merak made a brief speech to the villagers and gave the signal to start.
The girl, meantime, had quietly mounted the other camel and taken her place beside the chief. No one saluted her or seemed to notice her presence, yet to me she was scarcely less interesting than her aged companion. The Bega women were numerous in the village, were generally good looking and bold in their demeanor, yet the warriors seemed to make a point of disregarding them altogether, as if the sex was wholly unworthy of masculine attention. It seemed to be a Bega characteristic and partly explained why the chief’s companion was so generally ignored, but I was curious to know something of the girl who was to accompany us. So as we rode slowly away from the oasis I asked Ketti, who was near me, who she was.
“Gege-Merak’s grandchild,” was the answer, and I thought the young warrior’s eyes rested for an instant upon the young girl with a gleam of admiration.
“Will she succeed the chief, when he dies?” I inquired.
“No, Effendi. Iva is but a woman. Only a man becomes chief of a Bega tribe.”
“I see. In our country, Ketti, a woman is considered equal to a man.”
He made no reply to the observation and after a moment I continued:
“Tell me, then, why does Iva ride with us on this journey?”
He frowned, glancing around sharply to see that we were not overheard. But we had ridden quite out of earshot.
“Effendi, we speak little of such matters, but it is the superstition of Gege-Merak. He believes that he will live as long as his grandchild lives, but no longer. If she dies, then he will die. Allah has decreed it. For this reason the chief does not dare to leave her behind, lest some harm happen to her.”
I laughed at this explanation, but the warrior’s face was grave. He was by far the handsomest and most intelligent of our escort, and his dignified and straightforward expression attracted me toward him.
“Always the chief does not treat Iva well,” he added, as if to himself, as he glanced again to where the oddly mated couple rode at the head of the caravan. “Her health he guards, because he is selfish; but he makes the girl his slave.”
It occurred to me I had been right in guessing that the young man entertained a tender feeling toward Iva. But I could scarcely blame him. She was very attractive—for a Bega.
We made toward a dim ridge of mountains that showed at the southeast and during the day drew gradually nearer to them. At night we encamped in the foothills. The rocks were bare and of a black color, and the surrounding landscape was wholly uninviting. Just beyond us the hills grew to mountains, which formed a seemingly endless range.
“Do we climb those peaks?” I asked the chief, as our followers prepared the camp.
“There are passes between them, which we follow for two days,” he answered, briefly. Ketti told me they were the Hammemat Mountains, composed of a hard, dark stone called breccia, and that the ancient Egyptians had quarries here, using the stone to form their statues from.
From this first night the native and American camps were separate. The Begas pitched low tents for our use, but on their side only one tent, for the use of Iva, was set up. The men, including the aged chief, when they slept simply rolled themselves in their abayeh or ragged blankets and lay down upon the sand.
Bryonia, having brought a couple of sacks of charcoal from Koser to use for fuel, managed to cook us a good supper. The Bega did no cooking, but satisfied their hunger with hard bread and dried goat’s flesh, washed down with a swallow or two of tepid water. We invited Gege-Merak and Iva to join us at our meal, but the chief curtly refused.
“I eat with my people,” he said.
This action seemed to worry the Professor and his face grew anxious and thoughtful.
“If Gege-Merak had broken bread with us, or eaten of our salt,” he remarked, “we might have depended upon his faithfulness at all times. It is a rather suspicious circumstance, to my mind, that he refuses to join us.”
“I don’t trust him at all,” said I.
“Nor do I,” added Uncle Naboth. “Seemed to me, first time I spotted the rascal, that he was playin’ a deep game. Don’t you think it was foolish, Professor, to pay him all that money?”
“Not at all. If we had refused to pay it he might have robbed us of it on the journey. Now he knows he can get nothing more from us until we return to the ship. That will be our salvation, I imagine. To get the balance of his payment he’ll be sure to return.”
“But he doesn’t agree to bring us all back with him,” observed Archie, musingly. “He’ll be entitled to the money, just the same, if a few of us are killed.”
“That matter,” said Ned Britton, grimly, “we must attend to ourselves. There are nine o’ us to six o’ them copperheads, for the girl don’t count. So I guess they’ll think twice afore they attacks us.”
“I don’t fear any open rupture,” replied Van Dorn, with a moody glance toward the Bega camp. “What we must guard against is treachery. If the chief had eaten with us I should have feared nothing; but I know the ways of these Begas, and it will be best for us to set a guard every night while we sleep.”
“Why, there’s nothing to murder us for at present,” I objected. “When we get the treasure, if we ever do, it will be another matter. Just now—”
“Jest now,” interrupted Uncle Naboth, “we’ll keep on the safe side and take the Perfessor’s hint. Snakes is snakes, an’ you can’t tell when they’re a-goin’ to strike. Let’s set a watch nights, from now on.”
The suggestion was a reasonable one, and we determined to follow it.
The second day’s journey was through wild passes of the Hammemat, among which we might easily have become bewildered and lost our way had not Gege-Merak’s knowledge of the mountains enabled him to guide us accurately. We passed an old Egyptian mine and, soon after, the quarries which they had abandoned centuries ago, and at evening came to the famous well of Bir-Hammemat, the curb of which is sixteen feet in diameter. Here we made our camp, and so wild was the spot that we kept a constant though secret watch throughout the night. The Bega, however, seemed to harbor no thoughts of treachery, and although they made their camp on the opposite side of the well from our own they neither by look nor action gave us cause to suspect their loyalty.
We emerged among the foothills on the third day, and before noon passed a landmark in the way of an old Roman well, now dry and abandoned. It had once been a large cavity, walled up with huge layers of stone, and I imagined it must originally have been very deep, too, for even yet the rubbish in its bottom was a good fifteen feet from the curb. I glanced at the place carelessly enough as we passed, never dreaming of the tragedy soon to be enacted there.
Pushing on at excellent speed we mounted more rocky hills, here composed of yellow and red Nubian sandstone and granite. Just at sundown we reached the Pass of Mutrok without incident.
The Professor was excellently satisfied with our progress.
“Four hours across the desert from here,” he told us at supper, “lies the small village of Laketa, which is but four hours more from Luxor. The treasure lies some two hours’ journey from Laketa, toward Karnak, and my plan is to halt at the village, when we reach it, and leave our native escort there. I can guide you myself from Laketa, so only the Americans shall go to the place where the treasure lies hid. We shall take with us the two extra camels, and when we rejoin the Bega we must keep these camels constantly with our party, and refuse to tell the chief or any of his followers what load they bear. This is a necessary precaution, I assure you. So far our journey has been uneventful, but once we have secured the treasure we must exercise exceptional caution and vigilance until we get it safely aboard the ship.”
This was good and timely advice, we well knew, and Van Dorn’s plan seemed practical enough. Before leaving the ship our sailmaker had prepared several large canvas bags for holding the treasure, and the Professor had brought along a supply of sealing-wax with which to seal up the treasure in the bags until it was delivered on board the ship and could be appraised and divided between us. According to his recollection of the cavity and its size Van Dorn judged that two camels would be ample to transport all its contents.
During this third day the Bega had seemed to regard us with less friendly glances than before, and just as we dismounted at the camp an unpleasant incident occurred that for a time promised open rupture between us.
One of the camels having gone lame during the afternoon, Iva had been transferred from her own beast to that of the chief, riding behind whom she finished the journey in no very comfortable manner. The girl, proud and reserved, speaking seldom and then only in monosyllables, seemed wholly out of place in this caravan of men, and we realized that the chief’s absurd superstition about her was responsible for much of her sullen behavior.
Iva had ridden in a cramped position until her limbs were numbed, and as she slid off the kneeling camel she stumbled and fell awkwardly against the chief. In sudden rage Gege-Merak turned and struck her a blow on the side of her head, and the next instant he found himself tumbling headlong to the earth. For Archie had happened to stand near, and seeing the outrageous act had bowled over the great Gege-Merak as coolly as if he had been a school-boy.
Even before the chief could rise the Bega had sprung at us with drawn knives and leveled pistols; but Gege-Merak, hearing their shout of rage, rolled over and held up an arm in warning. They slunk back, then, while Ketti assisted the ancient chief to his feet. He was unhurt, for his mummified little form was tough as leather. Neither had Iva been much injured by the blow she had received, for she stood by quiet and submissive to all appearances. But I had caught a fierce gleam in her dark eyes that proved she secretly resented her brutal treatment. The sharp edge of one of her clumsy ear ornaments had cut her cheek, and two or three tiny drops of blood trickled down her face; but this was unimportant. She well knew Gege-Merak would take good care not to seriously endanger her health or life, even in a fit of temper, as long as his superstition regarding her held sway. But a kick, a blow, or a bitter epithet was often her portion.
This was not the end of the incident. After supper and during the brief Egyptian twilight Ketti came to us with a message from the chief. He asked us to kill Archie before morning and expose his body to be torn and devoured by the jackals, that the insult to Gege-Merak’s dignity be avenged.
We greeted the request with a roar of laughter, and Archie declared he would run across and punch the old fellow’s nose for his impudence. Ketti, who was less a barbarian than any of his tribe, in our opinion, was still too dense to understand our answer until we said frankly that we fully approved what Archie had done and had no intention of punishing him.
“Then,” said the messenger, “you must deliver him to our chief, who will satisfy his vengeance according to our customs.”
“See here, Ketti,” I replied; “you’re a good fellow, and I’ll explain to you our position. The poorest American is of higher rank than the most important Bega that lives, and your Gege-Merak is merely our servant, having accepted our pay. Aside from that, we Americans won’t allow any woman of any race to be abused in our presence, and you might tell your wicked old chief that if he dares to touch the girl again while in our company, we’ll tie him up and horsewhip him.”
Ketti listened to this speech with keen interest. Perhaps he secretly approved our stand, for his expression was thoughtful rather than angry.
“Do not send this message by me, Effendi,” said he, in a low voice. “It will mean to fight, and that must not be—for we are friends.”
“Are we, Ketti?” I inquired, doubtfully.
“I am your friend,” answered the warrior, evasively. “But our chief is proud, for he is the father of all the Bega of Egypt, our tribe being the head tribe of our people, and the Arabs and Turks have taught us that the whites are but dogs, and have no rank. It will make danger for you to defy Gege-Merak tonight. Tell him you will punish the Archie-boy when you reach your ship, in your own way, which is to cut him in pieces and feed him to the fishes; once we knew a ship-sailor who did that and the promise will make Gege-Merak content.”
“Very well, Ketti,” broke in the Professor, nervously; “deliver that or any other message you like, and we’ll remember your friendship when we get back to Koser. Say anything to your chief that will restore peace between us, for we must remain friends.”
Ketti nodded understandingly and returned to his people. Doubtless he promised the old ruffian that we would take ample vengeance upon our companion, for we could hear his voice declaiming loudly our reply before all the tribesmen. Gege-Merak’s dignity was thus restored at little expense to us, and we heard no more of the matter. The incident, however, showed us that we stood in a delicate position and that our protective escort might at any moment become our most vindictive enemy.
Next morning we slept late and resumed our journey at leisure. The Professor told the chief that we should not require his escort beyond the village of Laketa. He might remain there with his band and rest until we were ready to begin the return journey, probably upon the following day. Gege-Merak listened quietly and made no comment beyond saying that his people were our servants and that to hear was to obey—an Oriental figure of speech that meant nothing at all.
After leaving the mountains a series of low bleak hills had been encountered, and about the middle of this forenoon we reached the ruins of the old Roman hydrauma, or caravan station, long since abandoned. Three miles farther brought us within sight of Laketa, a small group of mud huts occupying an oasis which boasted two small wells and five palm trees.
We were at the village before noon, and found ourselves greeted by a dozen Bisharin, men, women, and children. They were small, skinny people, naked except for a loin cloth, and having bushy hair saturated with foul smelling grease. The Bisharin claim kinship to the Bega nation, but are much inferior in physique or intelligence to the Ababdeh who formed our escort. They are great thieves, as are all these gypsy Bedouins, but, too cowardly to fight in the open, they prefer to creep upon their victims unobserved and stick a knife or short spear into their backs.
These natives of Laketa, however, lived so near to Luxor and civilization that they had lost much of their native fierceness and were a cowed and humble group. They welcomed Gege-Merak joyously, knowing him as a great chief; but they stood more in awe of us than they did of their visiting allies. The Professor assured us that we had nothing to fear from them. He had often been to this village with Lovelace, during the time they were engaged upon their tedious search for the treasure, and the Bisharin knew him and treated the little “red-beard” with profound respect.
We made our camp beside one of the wells, while our escort encamped beside the other, situated on the opposite side of the group of huts. During the afternoon we rested from the fatigue of our journey and perfected our plans, canvassing all matters of detail in the presence of our entire party, so that every man, even to black Bry, might understand exactly what our intentions were and what work would probably be required of them.
We informed Gege-Merak that we should ride that evening to a place near Luxor, where the Professor would gather his belongings and pack them on the two extra camels. Most of us would return during the night or at daybreak; all would again be assembled at the oasis by noon, when the return journey would be begun. We should camp the next night at our old station in the mountain pass, which could easily be reached before dark.
It was all simple and easily understood, and the chief appeared to be satisfied with the arrangement. We had an early supper and at sundown our band of Americans departed, taking the direction of Luxor and using as a landmark the low hill called Tel-Ambra, lying southward of the village. The Bega gathered in a silent group to watch us move slowly over the desert, but night soon fell and they must have shortly lost sight of us in the gloom.
The Professor knew this territory by heart. There was no moon, and even the stars lacked their usual brilliance because of fleecy clouds that moved swiftly across the sky—an unusual sight in Egypt. Such clouds, when they appear, contain no moisture, but are what are called “smoke clouds.” There was plenty of light to guide us, however, so the Professor was sure of his route.
In an hour and a half we passed around the base of Tel-Ambra, which is a barren rock cropping out of the desert, some twenty feet in its highest part and about half a mile in circumference. Skirting this rock we turned abruptly to the north, altering our course decidedly, for our first direction was only undertaken to deceive the Bega.
Thirty minutes of this northerly course brought us in sight of a group of three straggling palms which showed like black streaks against the sky; but now the Professor called a sudden halt, and I could hear him storming and cursing in low but tense tones as he sat his camel and glanced around him observantly.
“What’s wrong, sir?” I asked, coming to his side.
“That scoundrelly Arab, Abdul Hashim, has rebuilt his village,” he answered, with evident chagrin. “The police tore down every wall and scattered the stones far and wide; but here they are piled up again to form houses, and even the roofs of some are newly thatched.”
He pointed away to the left, and the stars being bright at the time I had no trouble in perceiving that we had halted a few hundred yards from a native village. But it was black and seemed deserted.
“What does it matter?” I asked, impatiently. “We can surely keep away from Abdul Hashim and his people until morning, and by that time we ought to have gained possession of the treasure.”
The Professor shook his head, doubtfully; but he gave the command to march and we hurried away from this dangerous vicinity and approached the group of palms. The feet of the camels made no noise on the desert sands and our people were all too anxious and intent upon the adventure to speak unnecessarily; so like shadows we passed through the shifting and ghostly light that reached us from the stars, and soon gained our destination.