The big _dalul_ knelt. Ali crawled forward. On the summit of the hill
over which the tree top appeared, he crouched in a nest of boulders and
verified his preconceived opinion that he would see more than water when
he finally beheld the oasis.
Water there was, a limpid pool, shaded by one great tree and a cluster
of small ones, and seeping underground to bring life to a patch of
grass. Sixty-one horses cropped the grass, and sixty-one Indians lazed
about.
Though he knew where he was and who these men were, Ali felt as he had
when spying on the Druse tribesmen. Even external differences between
burnous-clad Druse and half-naked Indians did not set them so very far
apart. If the Indians were not bent on raiding, there would be women
and children among them. The expedition was the only prize worth the
assembly of so many warriors. At present, they were idling away their
time until a scout reported.
The scout appeared, as Ali was sure he would, from the direction in
which the expedition was encamped. Ali waited for the scout to reach his
companions. When he did and began his report, Ali returned to Ben Akbar.
He rode first toward the camp, so that he was between the warriors and
the expedition. Then he put Ben Akbar up a hill, but not quite over it.
He wanted only to look down on the path taken by the scout and which, by
all reason, should be the path of the warriors.
Presently they appeared, as Ali had prayed they would, and, obviously,
the scout had reported well. In no hurry at all, it was clear that the
Indians knew of the distress in camp. The time to take it was now, with
most of the animals unfit, all of the men uncertain, and some so near
the breaking point that a little more stress would break them. When the
Indians were directly beneath him, Ali spoke to his mount. "Ho! Now!"
Ben Akbar shot over the crest and unhesitatingly did as Ali wished, he
charged the mounted column. The leader, a fiercely painted young warrior
whose thoughts were pleasantly filled with an easy conquest and ample
loot, had time for only one good look before his horse took charge.
The panic spread like wind-driven fire in dry grass. Ali halted Ben
Akbar and gave himself up to complete enjoyment, for indeed it was
enjoyable. Sixty-one horses, as was customary with horses of America,
took instant leave of their senses when confronted by a _dalul_ of
Syria. For the first time since arriving in America, and the last, this
was one unscheduled rodeo for which a camel would never be held to
accounting.
Two hours later, bulging water bags tied wherever Ben Akbar's saddle
offered a buckle or knob to tie one, and two more over his shoulders,
Ali rode back into camp. He halted near Lieutenant Beale, who had just
come in on Sied, and grinned amiably as teamsters snatched at his load
and ran to their parched animals.
When he and Ali were alone, Lieutenant Beale asked, "How did you locate
it, Ali?"
"First," Ali said, "I saw a green tree."
"What next?"
"Then I saw some Indians," Ali reported, "but they all ran away and are
not at the water now. We may go take as much as we need."