A WILD WOOING
“Well?” asked the Colonel; “what luck?”
“None at all,” growled Allison. “The vizier is as tricky and sly as his
master. He assumed a dignified and benevolent air, was very sorry we
were discontented, but can do nothing to help us.”
“How about horses?”
“The vizier states it is an ecclesiastical command that no beasts of
burden shall be sold to an infidel, under pain of death. His Highness
the Khan regrets it; His Excellency the Vizier regrets it. You are
referred to Aboullah O’Brien, Grand Mufti of the Mosque of the Angels,
who issued the order to the faithful.”
“It iss Aboullah Beyren,” corrected David, meekly.
“How long has this order been in effect?” enquired the doctor.
“Since the day we arrived. It was not aimed at us, by any means. It was
a coincidence.”
“That looks bad,” said the Colonel gravely. “How about my interview with
the Khan?”
“The vizier will intercede for you. He will go down on his knees to His
Supreme Mightiness; he will implore the Star of the Heavens to see you.
But he doubts if we ever get within earshot of the Glorious and
Magnificent Defender of the Faith, who is otherwise known as Ahmed Khan.
It seems he has other fish to fry, and is busy getting them ready. We
can do nothing with the scoundrelly vizier, I am certain.”
“Then we must depend upon David to get me an audience with the Khan.
Americans are not accustomed to fail in what they undertake. See here,
David,” turning to that worthy merchant; “can’t you bribe your way into
the royal palace?”
“I will try, most Excellency,” answered David, eagerly. “But de bribe
must be great moneys--grant moneys--many golt fillibees! Unt I promise
nodding. Maybe I see de Khan; maybe nod. Who can tell?”
“It sounds like a risky investment, David,” remarked the doctor. “We’ll
take time to think it over.”
They thought of many things, in the days that followed, but could arrive
at no plan that promised to provide a caravan or give them an
opportunity to negotiate with the Khan concerning the new railway.
The Colonel went personally to the palace one day, taking along the
trembling David as interpreter. The official who met him at the entrance
listened to him respectfully, but assured him that no message from an
infidel could be carried to the Khan. Hints of money had no effect. It
would cost him his head to disturb the Khan on such an errand.
Under these unfortunate conditions the Colonel began to be worried, and
even the doctor lost much of his habitual cheerfulness. Aunt Lucy vowed
vengeance upon every barbarian in Baluchistan, and promised the United
States would wipe this miserable country off the map as soon as she
returned and reported their treatment to her friend the senator.
But Allison, to the wonder of all, stopped grumbling and bore his
imprisonment with rare fortitude and good nature. Janet also grew
brighter and merrier day by day--a circumstance that did much toward
reconciling her father to their enforced stay in Mekran. Bessie, always
philosophic and gay, made no complaint of any sort. And so the days
passed swiftly away and as yet brought no change in the fortunes of the
stranded Commission.
One evening David came in greatly excited. A messenger had arrived from
the Khan. Although that haughty potentate still ignored the Commission
he had placed two saddle horses from his own stables at the disposal of
the young ladies. If they would ride at daybreak on the following
morning--that hour being the most cool and delightful of the day--the
Khan would send a competent guard to protect them. His Most Serene and
Magnificent Highness offered this courtesy in order to relieve the
monotony of the young ladies’ stay in his capital. He made no mention of
the other members of the party, who might exist as monotonously as ever.
And the messenger awaited an answer.
This was, indeed, a startling proposition. Eastern women did not ride,
yet the Khan seemed to know that nothing could be more acceptable to
American girls than a dash across country on the back of a spirited
horse. They were very glad to accept the favor, and the Colonel hoped it
might lead in some way to more friendly relations between them and the
ruler of Mekran, and perhaps result in the interview he so ardently
desired.
“But who’s going to chaperon them?” enquired Aunt Lucy. “It seems I’m
not invited.”
The Colonel thought the khan’s guard would be sufficient.
“But it’s a heathen country, and they’ll have to bandage their faces,”
declared the old lady.
“We’ll wear veils until we are out of Mekran,” said Bessie. “Then there
will be no masculine eyes to see us, and we’ll take them off.”
So at daybreak Janet and Bessie were ready for their ride, and soon a
grizzled Baluch warrior rode up to the house leading two magnificent
bays from the famous stables of Mehmet. The one that Janet rode was the
very animal that had carried Ahmed on his swift journey from the
monastery, and Bessie’s horse was but little inferior.
The warrior saluted and assisted the ladies to mount. It was Dirrag. He
led them through the streets, around the palace enclosure and out at the
south gate. A beautiful country lay spread before them, and as the keen
morning air saluted their nostrils, brightened their eyes and flushed
their cheeks, the girls dashed away at a canter with Dirrag silently
following a few paces behind.
After their long confinement within the walls of a city dwelling this
free, invigorating exercise was a great delight to the two girls, and
they enjoyed the ride thoroughly. Passing through the city on their
return they closely veiled their faces, yet were evidently objects of
curiosity to those of the natives who were abroad so early.
Dirrag held the stirrups for them to dismount and then silently touched
his cap and led the horses back to the khan’s stables. But next morning
he was again at their door with the mounts, and their ride became a
daily event to the girls.
Dirrag knew no English, but Janet and Bessie had come to understand many
of the Baluch words--a dialect evidently founded upon Arabic--and could
even speak a few simple sentences, learned by contact with the native
servants and somewhat puzzling explanations from David. So the silence
of their first rides began to be broken by laconic observations on the
part of the battered old warrior, who seemed not to object to acting as
escort to the charming infidel women. Occasionally they passed the house
of Agahr the Vizier and Maie, who was informed of all that occurred in
the capital, watched from her latticed window the graceful forms of the
American girls riding by and on several occasions when they neglected
to arrange their veils caught glimpses of their fair faces.
It was enough to set the vizier’s daughter wild with envy and chagrin.
Why should the Khan favor these outcasts-these women of another world?
Was it for them the harem was being prepared, despite her father’s
protestation that Ahmed had never seen the foreign women nor ever would
see them? The girl well knew that their beauty could in no way compare
with her own in the eyes of any true Baluch. The Americans were deformed
by being laced and belted at the waist and wearing heavy, close-fitting
draperies that must not only be uncomfortable but were decidedly ugly in
appearance. But Maie could not deny they sat their horses gracefully and
with rare self-possession, and men have queer ideas of beauty. Perhaps
Ahmed Khan might admire the novelty of their white faces, their queerly
arranged hair and the pink finger nails that lacked any trace of the
beautifying henna.
Maie was jealous, and with good reason. She had abandoned her handsome
cousin Kasam for the more powerful and scarcely less handsome Ahmed
Khan, and if fate destined her to lose them both she was surely to be
pitied.
But her father declared he had no such fears. Ahmed was difficult to
understand, it was true; but Ahmed was a man, and he had seen and
admired Maie. Was he not beautifying his harem? and what place could
these stiff Americans have amid the luxuries of the perfumed baths, the
gardens of the Court of the Maidens, or the musk-scented cushions of the
oriental divans? It would be as absurd as putting a frog in the jar
devoted to gold-fish. Add to this argument the fact that Maie was the
most beautiful maiden the world had ever known, and none but a fool
could fail to read the lines of destiny.
One morning Dirrag turned to the west, and led his fair companions
across the valley and up the curve of the long hill that enclosed it.
The country was more wild and unsettled here than at the south or east,
and when finally they mounted the brow of the hill and gazed down into
the next valley Dirrag pointed out a cluster of white dots showing far
away against the green of the fertile plains.
“Kasam,” said he.
The girls looked with eager interest.
“Is it a camp?” asked Bessie, twisting her tongue into the Baluch
dialect.
Dirrag seemed to understand.
“Kasam is a rebel,” he said, looking calmly at the tents. “Many traitors
to our great khan have joined him. His army grows daily. It will be
battle, some day, and Kasam and his host will disappear like snow before
the sun.”
“Has the Khan also an army?” asked Janet.
Dirrag smiled, proudly.
“The warriors of Mekran are as numerous as the leaves in the forest. Our
mighty khan does not mind Kasam, for the buzzing of a bee against the
window-pane is not annoying. But when the time comes he will crush the
rebel in a day.”
“That may not be so easy,” exclaimed Bessie, while her eyes sparkled
indignantly. “Prince Kasam is no child I’ll bet he knows very well what
he’s about!”
Dirrag shrugged his shoulders. He did not understand, for in her
excitement she spoke in English. But other ears heard the words, and a
young man rode out from a clump of trees that had concealed him and
advanced toward the ladies with a bow and a smile.
It was Kasam himself, mounted upon a magnificent gelding that was black
as night. He wore a native costume, sparkling with jewels, and looked as
handsome and manly as any prince in a fairy tale.
Dirrag, frowning and alert, drew his terrible curved cimeter and
prepared to defend his charges. But the girls were pleased at the
encounter, and Bessie managed to cry out in Baluch: “Don’t strike,
Dirrag! It is Prince Kasam.”
“Good reason to strike,” growled the warrior; but he stood at attention,
awaiting the outcome of the adventure and admiring secretly the enemy’s
boldness.
“I thank you, fair ladies, for your protection,” said Kasam, speaking
gaily and in English. “Not that I particularly fear your doughty
champion, but because it affords me the opportunity I have longed for to
talk frankly with you, and explain why I seemingly abandoned you on the
eve of your arrival in Mekran.”
“And also why you carried away our entire caravan,” added Janet,
severely.
Kasam laughed.
“All is fair in love and war,” he rejoined. “You did not need the
caravan any longer, and I needed it badly. It was natural I should take
advantage of your good nature and my own necessities. Look!” pointing
proudly to the plain below; “it is the encampment of my army--the host
that is to win for me the throne of Mekran!”
“Are our horses and dromedaries there? And our escort of Afghans?” asked
Janet.
“All are there. For the money loss you have sustained I can easily
recompense you. As for my own desertion, I agreed to guide your party to
Mekran, and I kept my promise. Really, I cannot see that you have just
cause for complaint.”
“We have no way to leave the city,” replied Janet. “Your act has made
us prisoners in Mekran.”
“That was part of my plan,” declared the young man, eyeing the girl with
open admiration. “I do not want you to leave Mekran until I am khan.”
“Why?” she asked.
He hesitated, and glanced at Dirrag.
“Let us ride on,” he said, “and, if you will kindly pace beside me, Miss
Janet, I will confide to your ears alone my hopes and ambitions.”
He reached out and caught the rein of her bridle, drawing the horse
beside his own, and then he rode slowly down the hill toward the city.
Dirrag, puzzled by the action and marvelling that the Prince should
venture so near the khan’s headquarters, followed a few paces behind
Kasam, with Bessie at his side. The girl’s face had flushed red at
Kasam’s evident preference for her friend, and her lips were pressed
ominously together. She nodded approval as she saw that the warrior
beside her still held his drawn cimeter tightly clasped in his hand, for
the stern look upon his grim features boded no good to the rebel
prince.
For a few paces Kasam rode in silence; then, glancing behind to make
sure they were not overheard, he said:
“Miss Moore--Janet! the conditions that surround me oblige me to be
frank with you, and to discard all foolish formalities. Although I have
been educated in London you must not forget I am a native Baluch, and
that we of the East are children of impulse, obeying the dictates of our
hearts spontaneously and scorning that cold formality so much affected
by your race. I have neither the time nor the opportunity to woo you in
the dignified Western fashion. But I love you; and, after all, that is
enough for a man to say!”
“Prince Kasam!”
“Since you must hear me, pray rob your voice of its scorn, my love. Be
sweet and fond as a woman should. Let your real soul peep out of your
beautiful eyes--let your heart bound wild and free in unison with my
own. We are man and woman, fitted to sweet communion one with the other
and destined to be happy in the passionate union of our lives.” His
voice was broken and excited; his eyes sparkled with fierce intensity;
the conventionality of the Western civilization he had once known was
all forgotten. “I love you--I adore you, my Janet! And I am a
prince--soon to be Khan of all this great land. Speak to me, dear one!
Promise to leave all else and cling to me alone--to follow my fortunes
until I can place you in the palace where you shall be queen!”
“You have taken me by surprise, Prince Kasam,” said Janet, gravely. “I
am sorry you have spoken in this way.”
“And why?” he cried. “Can love be denied when it clamors at the door of
an eager heart? Why should I not love you? Why should you not accept my
love?”
She looked into his animated face and smiled sadly.
“Because I do not belong to myself,” she answered, trying hard, as a
true woman will, to soften the blow. “Can I give you what another claims
as his right?”
She should have said more, or not so much; but she did not know the
Baluch temper.
He drew a quick breath at her words and reined his horse to a sudden
halt. Her own horse stopped at the same time, and for one long moment
Kasam gazed steadily into the fair face she turned pleadingly upon him.
With an exclamation and a passionate gesture he spurred forward. The
black gelding was off like the wind across the plain, and Janet was left
to stare wonderingly after him.
Dirrag swore heartily; but the native oaths, lacking translation, did
not offend the ears of the American girls. The warrior dared not leave
his companions to pursue the prince, who circled around and made
straight for the hillside in the direction of his encampment.
An embarrassing silence fell upon the three as they again rode forward.
Dirrag was plainly suspicious of Janet’s secret conference with the
rebel, and Bessie’s sweet face was masked with a grieved and despondent
expression that was new to it.
But Janet was too preoccupied to notice her friend’s distress, nor did
she deign to explain, even with a word, her strange interview with
Kasam.