THE DESERT
The next day Gray dispatched Mirai Khan to the _amban's_ yamen to try
to hire the necessary camels. He thought it better not to go
himself. Without the consent of the Chinese official nothing could
be done, as the _amban_ would expect a liberal commission on every
transaction in Ansichow. Also the official had a dozen ill-armed and
ill-minded soldiery in the town barracks--enough to enforce his
authority on Gray, although the Hastings' party was numerous enough
to be independent of the Chinese.
Gray himself wandered moodily through the few streets of the village.
Since the conversation of the evening before he had been restless.
He had slept badly. Although he would not admit it to himself, the
thought of Mary Hastings had preyed on him.
So it happened that his wandering took him to the camp of the
Hastings.
He found Mary seated under the fly of the stores tent, inspecting and
tallying a stock of provisions that Ram Singh had purchased. She
looked up and nodded coolly at his approach.
"You are busy, Miss Hastings," he observed. "But I want to ask a
favor. A half hour of your time."
The girl poised a pencil over her accounts doubtfully. Ram Singh
scowled.
"We can talk here, Captain Gray," she compromised, "while I work.
Sir Lionel wants these stores----"
"We can't talk here very well," objected Gray. "What I have to say
is important. Last night your uncle gave me some valuable
information. I want to give you return value for it."
"Where?"
Mary Hastings had the brisk manner of one accustomed to transacting
business. Gray learned later--after the disaster that came upon them
in the Gobi--that she handled the routine work of her uncle's
expeditions, and very capably, too.
"Outside here, in the garden," he suggested. She hesitated; then
rose, reaching for her sun helmet. A dilapidated wall encircled the
camp, and a few aloes struggled for existence by the tumble-down
stones.
Mary climbed the stones, refusing assistance from the American, until
she perched on the summit of the garden wall. Here she could
overlook the activity in the camp as she listened.
A haze hung in the air--born of the incessant flurries of fine sand
that burden the atmosphere in the Gobi. But from their small
elevation, beyond the low buildings of Ansichow, Gray could see the
plain of dunes that marked the desert. A dull brown they were,
stretching to the long line of the horizon in the west.
Gray was silent, admiring the girl's profile. There was something
slender and boyish about her. Her dress was plain, and excessively
neat. Under the crown of her helmet a few strands of copper hair
curled against her tanned cheek.
Mary glanced at the watch on her wrist significantly.
"I'm afraid you are very lazy, Captain Gray," she said frankly. "I
warn you that we are going to lose no time in starting from Ansichow."
"I am lazy," he agreed. "But I don't want you to start at all."
She looked at him calmly. "Why?"
"That's what I wanted to tell your uncle. I'm going to be as frank
with you as I intended to be with Sir Lionel. Miss Hastings, the
Gobi Desert--"
"Is not safe for a woman, I presume?"
"Exactly. If Sir Lionel knew all that I do, he would not want you to
go with him. He'll have to go, of course. So will I. But you can
stay here with Ram Singh until we get back. The Sikh is a good
watchman. Sir Lionel can join you when he returns."
Mary rested her chin on her hands and scrutinized the aloes with
friendly interest. "Why do you think it is dangerous for me to go
to--Sungan?"
"I have a good reason for my warning, Miss Hastings. Two reasons.
One--Sungan seems to be guarded by the Chinese priests. You have
avoided them by coming up through Burma into Mongolia. I've had a
taste of their kindly disposition."
He told her briefly of the opposition of Wu Fang Chien, the episode
of the inn at Liangchowfu, and the fears of Delabar.
"So your companion turned back because he was afraid?" She smiled
curiously. "What is your other reason, Captain Gray?"
"Sickness. That was what Delabar chiefly dreaded, I think. Brent, a
missionary, went past the Gobi border here--and died of sickness. I
don't say he was killed. He died."
"We are equipped to deal with that. I have means to purify the water
we may have to use in the oases."
"It's not a question of water, in this case. Brent had his own. You
may think I'm running to fancy a bit, Miss Hastings. But there's
Mirai Khan. I've sounded him thoroughly. He is clearly afraid of
the Sungan region, and of the pale sickness. I don't know what it
is--don't even know that it exists. Still, the fact remains that
Mirai Khan, who is a fearless sort of rascal, says his countrymen
avoided this part of the Gobi on account of the plague--whatever it
may be."
"All Kirghiz are liars by birth and environment. Really, you know,
Captain Gray, the Buddhist priests invent such stories to keep
visitors from their shrines. The coming of foreigners weakens their
power."
"That may be true." Gray felt he was stating his case badly. "But
you haven't established contact yet with the amiable Wu Fang Chien.
Having a woman along would handicap Sir Lionel."
Her brows arched quizzically.
"Really? The _amban_ of Ansichow and his men do not seem to be
trying to prevent us from going ahead."
"Because they couldn't very well if they wanted to. But, did it
strike you that you have already come so far that the Chinese are not
worrying about you? That, if you go into the Gobi, they will count
you lost. I've gathered as much, and Mirai Khan has listened in the
bazaars. Won't you stay at Ansichow, Miss Hastings?"
His blunt appeal had a note of wistfulness in it. The possible
danger to the girl had haunted him all that day. It would be useless
he felt, to appeal to Sir Lionel. Mary Hastings was not in the habit
of obeying her uncle's commands in matters affecting her own comfort
or safety.
"And leave Sir Lionel to go alone into the Gobi?"
"Yes. He's bound to take the risk. You are not. I'm afraid your
uncle is too wrapped up in his researches to pay much heed to
possible danger. I don't think a white woman should take the risk."
Mary Hastings smiled slowly. She had a way of looking directly at a
man--unlike most women--that disturbed Gray. He felt that he was
blundering.
"Sir Lionel," she replied, "has set his heart on being the first
white man in Sungan. He has staked his reputation as a scientist on
this expedition. You do not know how much it means to him. If he
finds the Sungan ruins and the descendants of the Wusun, he will have
vindicated his judgment. If he fails it will be his last expedition.
It is hard for a man of his age to fail. He has many rivals, at home
and--in America."
"But you----"
"Sir Lionel needs me. I attend to the management of the caravan.
And he can not spare Ram Singh."
She tossed her small head.
"Don't you think, Captain Gray, you've tried enough to spoil our
chances of success? Isn't it rather mean of you to try to frighten
me into leaving _Sher Singh_?" Mary Hastings was suddenly growing
angry. Gray was committing the unpardonable sin of endeavoring--so
she assured herself--to separate uncle and niece.
She wanted to be angrier than she was. But the wall perch was a bad
strategic position for a display of temper, which she considered he
had earned.
"You know that it would weaken our chances of success to divide our
caravan!" she accused, feeling for foothold on the stones beneath.
Gray was unable to account for the swift change in mood. What had he
said to offend her? He had meant it only for her good.
"No, Miss Hastings," he flushed. "I simply wanted to warn you of
real danger."
The girl slid down the rocks to the earth. She stamped a neatly shod
foot disdainfully. Gray was oblivious of the fact that the maneuver
had been planned for this purpose. She was plainly very angry. He
wondered why, miserably.
"I thought you were a sportsman, Captain Gray--even if you were not a
big game hunter as you pretended. I find I am mistaken. Good
afternoon."
"Good Lord!" Gray watched her slight figure return to the tent and
set his teeth. "Good Lord!" He smiled ruefully. "Horse
thief--schemer--I wonder if there's anything else that she thinks I
am. Guess there's nothing else bad enough."
He climbed down from his rocks and left the encampment, avoiding Ram
Singh who was ushering in a line of coolies as he did so. The Sikh
strode by with a scowl.
So easily are quarrels made. And a woman, so fate has ordained, has
the first voice in their making. But it is doubtful if Mary Hastings
herself could have explained why she treated Gray as she did.
Divinely is it decreed that a woman may not be asked to explain to a
man.
Gray hesitated, half minded to seek out Sir Lionel and ask that the
girl be kept in Ansichow. Realizing that this would be useless, he
returned to his tent on the further side of the town. Mirai Khan was
not there.
It was a good three hours before the Kirghiz appeared. Three hours
in which Gray smoked moodily. Mirai Khan had news.
"Come, Excellency," he observed importantly. "Yonder is a sight you
should see. Verily, it is a fine sight."
Gray took his hat and followed his companion to a knoll, where the
Kirghiz pointed out to the plain.
Half a mile away a caravan of a dozen camels in single file was
making its way into the sand dunes, leaving a dense haze of dust in
its wake. He could see through his glasses Sir Lionel and Ram Singh
on the leading beasts.
Near the end of the caravan he saw Mary Hastings. He thought that
she turned and looked back at him. He could not be sure. He watched
the slight figure with its veil about the sun helmet pass from view
in the dust.
Then he walked back silently to the tent, beckoning Mirai Khan to
follow.
"Have you the camels?" he asked when they were seated on the tattered
rug that formed the tent floor.
"No, Excellency. The camels may not be hired."
"Then buy them."
Mirai Khan yawned and regarded his master with the benevolent
scrutiny of the fatalist.
"It may not be. There were but eight two-hump camels in Ansichow,
and these the Englishman bartered when he first came, in exchange for
his tired beasts. He paid well."
"Well, buy the camels he left."
"That would be folly. A week must pass before these eight can bear
burdens. They are nearly dead with hard use. The Englishman did not
spare them."
Gray frowned meditatively. He must have beasts of burden, to carry
at least ten days' stock of water, with necessary food. The Gobi was
a barren land.
"Do you think a trader's caravan may visit Ansichow, Mirai Khan?"
"Perhaps. In another moon, or possibly three or four. Why should
they come to this dung-heap in the sand?"
"Coolies might carry our supplies--if we paid them enough." Gray
knew that this would be risky; but he was not in a position to
choose. Time was pressing. Mirai Khan smiled, showing yellow,
serried teeth.
"No, Excellency. An ounce of gold apiece will not bribe these
Chinese to come into the Gobi."
"The Kirghiz?"
Mirai Khan squinted thoughtfully at the glare of sunlight without the
tent. "Is the Excellency determined to go into the Gobi?"
"Yes."
"What God wills, will come to pass. I, Mirai Khan, have helped you
to safety. For the space of ten days I have eaten the food you have
killed. Because of this, I shall go a part of the way into the Gobi.
Also, a tribe of Kirghiz should be here within four days, from the
northern steppe. It may so happen that some of these will come with
us. I know not."
"Four days!" Gray groaned.
"Likewise, the men of this tribe will not be carriers of burdens. It
is not their custom."
"Mirai Khan: why is it that you fear the city of Sungan? I thought
you were a brave man."
Gray's purposeful taunt failed of its effect. Mirai Khan stared at
him and spat out into the sand.
"The region of Sungan is unclean. It is the law of the Prophet that
no one shall touch what is unclean."
"But you do not know that," cried the exasperated white man. "You
are running from a shadow."
"A shadow may betoken evil. My father said it, and it is so."
Gray sighed. "Then buy a half dozen mules. They can carry our
stores. Watch for the coming of the tribe you spoke of. When they
are here let me know. Meanwhile, purchase water jars, flour, rice
and tea sufficient for six men for three weeks."
The Kirghiz blinked understandingly.
"It is written that a white man shall go into the desert from here,"
he assented. "What is written will come to pass. It is also said by
our priests that a white man's grave is waiting in the Gobi. If this
thing also comes to pass, I and my comrades will bury you, so the
kites will not make a meal of your eyes--for once you saved my life."
Whereupon the hunter turned over on his side and went to sleep,
leaving Gray to his own thoughts. They were not cheerful.
The Hastings had left for Sungan. They had camels and would make
good time. With luck, if they escaped the black sand-storms, they
should be at their destination in seven or eight days. No wonder, he
thought, Sir Lionel had spoken frankly to him about the inscription,
when he had all the camels bought.
Camels could move faster than mules, over the bad footing. Gray
would make his start four days--three if the Kirghiz arrived
promptly--later than Sir Lionel. And he would fall behind steadily.
If it had been possible, he would have gone alone. But he could not
carry the necessary food and water for ten days. For a moment he
pondered the advisability of pushing on alone as soon as the mules
could be bought.
This plan he dismissed as useless. Mirai Khan had assured him that
it would take at least two days to get the animals and the needed
supplies. Also, he would be without a guide--for Mirai Khan would
not start until the tribesmen arrived.
It would be tempting providence for one man to venture with a string
of mules into the Gobi. Even so, Gray might have attempted it if he
had a guide.
There was nothing for it but to wait. And Gray passed the time as
best he could, overhauling his rifle and small stock of ammunition,
and packing with the help of Mirai Khan the food the latter bought
for him.
Fate moves in strange ways. If Gray had started before the four days
were up, the events that took place in the Gobi would have shaped
themselves differently. For one thing, he would not have seen the
tracks of the wild camel in the sand.
Nor would he have heard the story of the pale sickness.
As Mirai Khan had assured him, the Kirghiz tribe appeared at Ansichow
the evening of the third day. The hunter took Gray to their _aul_
near where Sir Lionel's encampment had been.
Acting as interpreter, he harangued the newcomers. Moreover, as he
informed the American later, he did not translate what Gray said
literally. If he had done so, he asserted, they would not have gone
into the Gobi.
The reason that Mirai Khan set forth seemed sufficient, for after
long debate, the elder of the tribe and two evil looking hunters
consented to accompany Gray. They agreed to go on foot. Somewhat to
the American's surprise nothing was said about turning back.
He broke camp at dawn, and the cavalcade of mules passed out of
Ansichow with Mirai Khan leading. By the time the sun had broken
through the mist they were well into the sand dunes.
There had been no wind-storm since the Hastings passed that way and
Mirai Khan was content to follow the camel tracks.