A bright, burning summer day on the border of the Sahara Desert; the
huge bare cliffs of the El Kantarah Pass hanging like a cloud on the
northern horizon; a quivering film of intense heat along the line where
the rich blue of the cloudless sky met the hot, lifeless, brassy yellow
of the desert; and in the foreground a group of Arabs, encamped beside a
tiny stream, in the shade of the clustering palms that overhung it.
Some were munching handfuls of parched corn, others were lying fast
asleep, while one dried-up old scarecrow with one eye, and a head like a
worn-out scrubbing-brush, was droning out some interminable Eastern
legend.
The story did not appear to get on very fast, however, which was not
surprising, inasmuch as the whole of it, from beginning to end (if it
ever had any), was pretty much in this style:
"Now when the Prince Selim (may his name be honored forever!) came up to
the gate of the palace--a gate higher than the dome of the Kaabah [holy
place] at Mecca, and built all of marble whiter than the whitest
milk--lo! there stood before it a giant, mighty and exceeding terrible.
Then was the Prince of Gulistan sore amazed, and said, 'Never since I,
Selim, son of Mahmoud, son of Sayid, son of Ali, first wore a yataghan
[sabre] have I beheld such a monster as this!'"
And so on for another half-hour, keeping poor Prince Selim waiting at
the gate of the palace.
But on a sudden an exclamation of astonishment broke from one of the
group, and all eyes were turned to stare at a spectacle quite as
wonderful to them as any of the marvels to which they had just been
listening.
Sauntering leisurely over the burning plain, as composedly as if he
were lounging along the boulevards of Paris or St. Petersburg, instead
of traversing one of the most dangerous spots in the whole north of
Africa, was a solitary man, coming slowly toward them. True, he wore the
white mantle and huge many-folded turban of the East, but he was none
the less a European, as his fair complexion, well-trimmed beard, and
jauntily cut pants sufficiently showed.
Instantly the universal listlessness changed to bustle and excitement.
The sleepers woke up, the lunch party forsook their dates and corn, the
story-teller and his hearers started to their feet together, and all
alike hurried forward to meet their strange visitor.
But to their unbounded amazement the strange visitor took no notice of
them whatever beyond a slight bow and the usual "Peace be with you!"
spoken in good Arabic, though with an unmistakably French accent.
Stepping into the shade of the palms, he bent down to the stream, took a
long draught of the cool clear water, and then seating himself upon the
bank, took off his turban, and began to fan his hot face with a fallen
palm leaf, as if wishing to show his coolness in a double sense.
The Arabs were completely taken aback. They had seen men look pale, and
try to run away from them; and they had seen men look fierce, and rush
at them pistol in hand; but a man who paid no attention to them at all,
and who hardly seemed to know whether they were there or not, was a
thing which they had never seen before, and they did not know what to
make of it. In fact, like most men of their class, the moment they
encountered a man whom they could not frighten, they at once began to be
frightened themselves.
At length the chief, seeming to think himself bound to set an example of
courage to his followers, walked right up to the stranger, while the
rest approached more cautiously, very much as a man approaches a strange
dog which may spring up and bite him at any moment.
"Peace be with thee, my brother!" said the chief, in a voice not quite
so steady as it might have been.
"With thee be peace, oh, sheik [chief] of the children of the desert!"
replied the unknown.
"What seeks the Frank [European] chief among the warriors of the tribe
of Ben-Asyr?"
"I am a magician," answered the stranger, quietly.
The Arabs looked at each other with undisguised trepidation. A magician
among them, and a Frank magician at that! Who could tell what he might
do to them? For every Arab had heard the fame of the mighty sorcerers
who could make wagons run without horses, ships go without sails,
messages fly along a wire through the air swifter than an arrow, little
scraps of paper serve as money, and other scraps of paper, no bigger
than a true believer's turban, show the whereabouts of all the wells,
rivers, hills, and caravan tracks, over an area of thousands of miles.
Evidently this unknown gentleman was not a man to be trifled with.
"I am a magician," repeated the mysterious guest, before any one could
speak in reply, "and I have come to see if in the tribe of Ben-Asyr
there be another magician like myself, and to try my power against his."
This challenge was followed by a gloomy and universal silence. But
suddenly a cunning twinkle showed itself in the chief's small rat-like
eye. Perhaps this strange man was only boasting in order to frighten
them. At any rate, it might be worth while to see what he was made of,
and how much he could really do. So the chief made a very polite bow,
and said:
"We are far from the tents of our tribe, and none of our great magicians
are with us; but let the wise man of the Franks show us his power, that
we may behold it, and honor him as he deserves."
"That will I do willingly," answered the stranger, with a readiness
which rather disconcerted the worthy chief. "Look all of you upon this
coin"--and he held out a silver franc--"which I have marked with a
circle, as ye see. Thinkest thou, O sheik of the Ben-Asyr, that thou
canst hold it too firmly for me to take it away?"
"With the blessing of Heaven and of the Prophet, I can," replied the
chief, confidently.
"Let us try, then," said the stranger, pressing the coin into the Arab's
extended hand, which instantly closed upon it as if meaning never to let
it go again.
"Presto! pass!" shouted the magician, in a high, shrill voice; and the
chief, opening his hand, found to his unfeigned dismay that it was
empty.
Amid the general silence and bewilderment, the stranger pointed to a
huge overripe date that lay rotting on the ground at some distance,
which one of the Arabs instantly handed to him. One stroke of a knife
laid it open, and out tumbled the marked coin.
There was a visible movement of surprise among the Arabs, and even the
chief himself looked not a little discomfited.
"For a warrior of the desert, thou art easily conquered," said the
Frenchman, jeeringly; "but it is no wonder that ill fortune should come
upon the tribe of Ben-Asyr, when their chief himself, a follower of the
Prophet, carries with him the liquor which the Prophet forbade."
"What mean you?" cried the chief, fiercely.
"_This_," answered the other, as, thrusting his hand into the sheik's
wallet, he held forth to the horrified eyes of the band a small flask of
unmistakable French wine.
"Dog of a Frank!" roared the sheik, losing all patience, "do you dare to
try your magical tricks upon a true believer? Take that!"
He snatched a pistol from his girdle, and aimed it full at the
conjurer's face; but it only flashed in the pan, and as he dashed it
furiously to the ground, his unmoved opponent laughed disdainfully.
"Do you think, then, that _I_ am to be hurt by mortal weapons? Try it
again, if you will; or rather let _me_ load a pistol for you, and you
shall see whether I am bullet-proof or no."
He drew a second pistol from the girdle of the sheik, who was too much
astounded to object, and loaded it before the eyes of the whole band,
marking the ball with his knife just before dropping it into the barrel.
"Fire!" cried he, putting the weapon into the sheik's hand.
The chief fired, and for a moment the smoke hid everything. When it
cleared, the stranger, with a mocking smile on his face, was seen to
_let fall the marked bullet from his mouth_ into his hand, and hold it
up for every one to look at.
The dark faces of the Arabs turned perfectly _green_ with terror; but
before anybody had time to say a word a loud shout was heard from
behind, and up dashed three mounted French officers with a score of
light horsemen.
Instantly the Arabs took to their heels with a howl of dismay, never
waiting to see whether the new-comers were real men, or phantoms called
up by the terrible magician. The spot was deserted in a moment, and far
out on the plain might be seen a confused whirl of arms, limbs, and
white mantles flying along like dust driven by the wind.
"Really, M. Houdin, you must be more careful," cried the French Colonel,
excitedly. "To think of your venturing alone among all those
cut-throats! What a fright you've given us!"
"And somebody else too, seemingly," said Robert Houdin--for it was
indeed the famous sleight-of-hand artist--glancing slyly at the flying
Arabs. "When I first came upon them I knew it was no use running, so I
decided to face it out, and scare _them_ a little instead. The next time
you make a raid through these parts, Colonel, take a few conjurers with
you; they'll be worth a whole battalion of infantry, take my word for
it."
[Illustration]