DEEP IN THE DESERT SANDS.
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.
I had often wondered, in thinking upon the subject, how the Professor
would be again enabled to locate with any degree of accuracy the buried
treasure, situated as it was in a barren spot where the sand drove over
it with every breeze. So now I watched him curiously as he dismounted at
the palms and, drawing a line from one of the trees to another, seemed
to pick out a star straight ahead to guide him and began pacing his way
regularly over the desert. He gained an absolute regularity of pace in
an amusing and ingenious, yet simple manner, attaching a cord from one
of his ankles to the other, after carefully measuring its length.
Consequently all his paces were mathematically equal, or could vary but
slightly.
The rest of us followed him silently. I tried at first to count the
number of paces, but from my high seat presently lost track of the
count. But I had no idea it would matter to us; we should never be
likely to visit this weird spot a second time.
At last the Professor came to a sudden halt and held up his hand. We
leaped from our camels without waiting for them to kneel and two of our
sailors promptly produced shovels from their panniers and began to dig
in the spot the Professor indicated. They worked with steady industry,
you may be sure, and we took turns relieving them at the task, for
shoveling sand is by no means an easy job.
After going a certain depth without finding the granite slab we began
making our pit wider, and within an hour a shovel wielded by Bryonia
bounded back with a metallic sound that told us the search had finally
been successful.
While the men quickly cleared away the remaining sand, disclosing three
bronze rings imbedded in an oblong slab of granite, I could not help
marveling at the Professor’s cleverness in locating the spot so
accurately after several weeks of absence.
“It is a matter of simple mathematics,” he explained, while he watched
the sand fly with eager eyes. “The only thing that could interfere with
my calculations would be the removal of the palm trees. But I did not
fear that, as they are centuries old.”
The big stone was now cleared of sand. The three sailors and Ned Britton
stooped and put their shoulders to the slab, raising the ponderous
weight slowly but surely until it stood upright on its edge. Then the
Professor knelt down and with nervous haste threw out the padding of
dried rushes and the thick layers of rotted mummy cloth that covered the
contents of the vault.
Now, more gently, he began removing a number of bandaged cylinders,
something like eighteen inches long and six inches in diameter. These, I
supposed, were the rolls of papyrus bark that told the history of that
dark period of Egypt between the Sixth and Twelfth Dynasties. From the
tenderness with which Van Dorn handled these rolls—which he rewrapped in
new canvas, sealed securely and then handed to Ned to be placed in one
of the panniers—I had no doubt he considered them the most valuable and
important part of the treasure. There were sixteen rolls; all of them,
according to our bargain, Van Dorn’s personal property. After these had
been cared for the Professor threw aside another layer of bandages and
then, at last, the more tangible wealth of the powerful priests of
Karnak was revealed to our wondering eyes.
Under the dim stars we could see the sparkle of many rich jewels and the
gleam of a vast store of golden vases, exquisitely worked; of many
chains, bracelets and other ornaments; of pearls and precious stones.
Indeed, the pit seemed full of the queer and valuable things.
Van Dorn did not pause an instant to admire this gorgeous sight. He took
one of the canvas sacks which Ned handed him and began filling it with
the jewels. It was difficult to see just what they were, but the
Professor took all that came to his hand and soon had filled the sack.
He tied its mouth securely and brought out his sealing wax. When he
lighted a match to melt the wax its rays illumined the pit, and I drew a
deep breath of wonder at the splendor that met my eyes.
“Ah; treasure!” said a soft voice beside me.
Startled, we all sprang up at the words and found squatting beside the
pit the form of the withered Bega chief, Gege-Merak.