THE WELL OF THE SCORPIONS.
Next morning I awoke at early dawn to see Abdul Hashim standing by the
curb of the abandoned well and looking into its depths thoughtfully. His
men joined him a moment later, and they conversed together in low tones
in Arabic. Several times I heard the word “akareb” mentioned, which I
knew to signify scorpions, and at times they would cast a pebble into
the well and then peer after it curiously.
At first I could not imagine what the fellows were up to. I knew
scorpions were thick in these foothills, and remembered that my friend
Ketti had warned me of them as we passed through; but why should the
Arabs be so interested in the fact that there were numbers of these
vermin at the bottom of the abandoned well?
The sheik soon solved the mystery, to my great horror. He came to us and
kicked us in turn, bidding us harshly to rise.
Something in the man’s eyes warned me of grave danger. His mood had
changed over night and instead of the thin mask of friendliness there
was now a wicked look on his finely cut features that I was positive
meant our imminent destruction—if he could accomplish it.
I slowly and with effort struggled to my feet, as did Archie and Joe. I
braced myself for the final struggle.
“If I am to reach Gege-Merak I can carry you with me no longer,”
announced the sheik, in a surly tone. “Therefore you will have the
misfortune to fall into the well here, and if your bones are ever found
no one can blame me for your death.”
“The well is full of scorpions, boys,” I said to my companions. “The
sheik means to murder us.”
Archie shuddered, Joe remaining strangely silent.
“It isn’t a pleasant fate, Abdul Hashim,” I continued, turning to face
the scowling Arab. “Why don’t you shoot us down, and make an end of it?”
“Ah, I fear your friend, the Cadi,” he responded, with a guttural laugh.
“My plan is safe for me, and as sure for yourselves. There shall be no
bullet holes in your flesh to trap me; there shall be no bonds around
you to prove foul play if you are discovered in the well before the
scorpions have picked your bones clean. Now, then, Hassan—get to work!”
he added, turning with a gesture of command to his tall follower.
Hassan proceeded to free Joe from his bonds—he was first at hand—and the
others at the same time began to untie our cords.
“I will give you a chance to fight the scorpions,” said the sheik,
grimly; but that was the biggest mistake he ever made. He should not
have risked loosening our bonds. He took us for mere boys, but forgot
that even a boy, if he is an American and desperate, will fight to the
last for life and liberty.
The tall one pushed Joe toward the edge of the well and was about to
thrust him over the brink when the boy, who had seemed dazed and inert,
suddenly stooped and grasped the Arab’s legs. It was the old trick that
had once before astonished us. There was a brief struggle and then the
man rose into the air, his arms extended and swinging in space, and
plunged head foremost into the pit. His cry of terror, as he fell, was
bloodcurdling, and Abdul Hashim gave an answering yell and sprang toward
Joe with a knife glittering in his upraised hand.
Swift as an arrow the boy darted under his arm and ran where a rifle
leaned against the rock. I saw him swing around and fire point blank at
the sheik, who was not three paces away—but I had business of my own to
attend to. For the burly Arab who had partly unfastened my bonds now
clutched me by the throat and threw me to the ground, where he knelt on
my chest and drew his pistol from his belt. Just as he fired the weapon
was thrust aside and Archie’s big fist crashed into the fellow’s face
and knocked him flat beside me.
“All right, Sam; you can get up now,” said the Yankee, cheerfully. “The
war’s over.”
He cut my remaining bonds with a knife; half conscious of what had
happened, I sat up and looked around.
Joe was seated on a rock bandaging his leg with a handkerchief.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Only a scratch,” he replied. “Abdul Hashim’s knife grazed me as he
fell.”
The sheik was lying motionless upon his face. Archie turned him over and
the dark eyes stared steadfastly at the sun, without blinking. I found
myself trembling as with an ague.
“It’s dreadful, boys!” I gasped, appalled by what we had done.
“So it is,” answered Joe, nodding; “but it was our lives against theirs,
Sam, and——”
He paused abruptly, glaring at something behind me. Archie screamed a
warning and I sprang to my feet to find that the third Arab had
recovered consciousness and was about to plunge a knife into my back.
I caught his wrist and struggled to hold the keen blade away from me,
but the fellow was strong as an ox and mad with rage. Archie came to the
rescue and dealt him a couple of stinging blows, so that he dropped the
knife and caught us both in a fierce embrace, crushing the two of us
against his breast while he dragged us nearer to the well.
I realized his intention and screamed and struggled without avail.
Nearer and nearer to the scorpion pit we were dragged until all three of
us, a writhing mass of flesh and muscle, were tottering on the brink.
[Illustration: The fight at the scorpion pit.]
Suddenly a pistol shot cracked—seemingly close to my ear—and the Arab’s
head dropped. He gave us one final, spasmodic hug, and partly relaxed
his grasp. I felt that we were all three reeling into the awful depths
below, when my hair was clutched and I was torn from that terrible
embrace and hurled to the earth. It was Joe who had saved me, and from
where I lay I saw him straining to save Archie also from falling into
the well. The Arab was either dead or desperately wounded, but with his
final instinct of enmity he clung to Archie on one side while Joe
dragged at him from the other.
The Arab’s body, however, was hanging over the pit, and its weight would
soon draw my struggling, desperate friends after it unless prompt help
was rendered them. I again leaped up and, half dazed as I was, clung
frantically to Joe, and my added weight gave us the victory. For the
Arab’s grasp slackened and his body slowly collapsed and fell with a
thud to the bottom of the pit, while we three, clinging together and
panting from our efforts, staggered away to sink weakly upon the ground.
It had all happened in half the time it takes to tell it, and for a
moment the sudden revulsion from impending death to absolute freedom was
more than we could comprehend. A little time ago we were being dragged
by our terrible captors to the scorpion pit, there to meet a frightful
death, and now two of our assailants were themselves in the pit, while
the third lay motionless before us!
“How did it happen?” I asked myself, greatly bewildered; and then I
remembered how Joe’s trick at wrestling had tumbled the first man into
the well; how Joe had seized the rifle and shot Abdul Hashim; how Joe
had vanquished the last Arab by a pistol shot as Archie and I struggled
with him for dear life.
Joe? Yes; Joe had done all this. The quiet, slender lad I had once
befriended through pity had now saved us all three from an awful fate,
and by his extraordinary pluck and quick wit had proved himself a hero
indeed.
Joe sat before me in an inert heap, breathing fast after his amazing
efforts. Silently I reached out and grasped both his hands in mine,
pressing them with gratitude too deep for words. Archie awoke from his
stupefied abstraction and shook our deliverer’s hands warmly in his big
paws. But he too forbore to speak. Words are poor things, and—Joe
understood, I’m sure.
Finally we grew calm enough to resume conversation and to inquire what
it was best we should do next. I was for taking the three best camels
and pushing on toward Koser, hoping to find the pass through the
mountains and regain the ship. My friends thought the plan as safe and
practical as any. So I arose, rather unsteadily, for my nerves were
still on edge, and searched the saddle-bags for food, having had no
breakfast. I found plenty of dates, banyans and dried goat’s flesh, and
we each took a portion of these and began to eat.
Presently Archie crawled to the edge of the well and leaning over looked
in. I saw his face blanch and a look of horror come to his eyes, but
neither Joe nor I asked a single question as our comrade hastily drew
back and came to our side. Nor have I questioned him since. Whatever the
Yankee boy saw in that gloomy pit he has never cared to speak of.
We were about to mount our animals, having recovered our rifles and some
of our other weapons, when the quick tread of approaching camels reached
our ears. Unnerved by our recent experience, our first impulse was to
grasp our rifles and leap behind a sheltering rock, from which refuge we
might determine whether friends or foes were drawing near.