ACROSS THE BLACK MOUNTAINS.
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.