A PUZZLING PROPHECY.
For a long time before regaining full consciousness, Bob was confusedly
aware of pain. He had nightmare impressions, the sort of feelings one
experiences in a dream when undergoing frightful experiences from which
he is unable to free himself. To Bob it was as if he lay on a torture
wrack, arms and legs pinioned, and head held in a vise. Try as he would
to reach up a hand to free his head of the oppression it was impossible
to do so. The stars seemed to whirl around him, each with the face of an
Athensian, mocking him, while a red devil in a filmy cloud who seemed to
bear a striking resemblance to the fallen Athensian leader hovered just
above the tip of his nose, laughing at him.
All around the edges of his world—this world of pain of which he was the
center—lay a thick cloud which his vision could not pierce. In it came
and went the Athensian-faced stars.
Once he struggled back to full consciousness. His eyes opened and he was
able to note his surroundings. Then he saw that he was bound to the
saddle of his camel, lying forward, almost on his chest. His hands and
feet were tied, and many lashings around his body prevented him from
slipping off. He even was able to note that the lashings consisted of
the rope lassoo with weighted ends with which he had planned to bring
down an ostrich, supplemented by the coil of wire for aerial and ground,
which had hung looped to his saddle.
On his head was his solar hat or sun helmet, at which he wondered
dazedly. Evidently, the blow which had felled him had been broken by the
helmet. Perhaps, even, it had fallen on the jutting rear brim, and thus
had not crushed against his skull the little radio receiving set
cunningly inserted in the crown so that to a casual glance it seemed
merely a part of the helmet. If so——
But then consciousness failed, and Bob sank again into the nightmare of
the wrack and the torture.
When again he was restored to consciousness, the rope and wire bindings
holding him in the saddle had been loosed and strong hands were lifting
him to the ground, which was no great distance away as the camel had
been compelled to lie down.
As his feet touched the ground, Bob attempted to stand, but his legs
buckled under him and he would have fallen were it not for the hands
beneath his armpits. He was lowered to the ground, and lay there with
eyes closed while those who had assisted him moved away. He could hear
the soft swish of their moccasined feet in the sand.
Cautiously, when he believed himself alone, Bob opened his eyes and
found himself staring up in the crown of his sun helmet, which had been
placed on his face. Yes, the blow had not wrecked the little radio set,
which he could see in the crown. At least, he could discern the panel on
which the instruments were placed, and which formed the bottom of the
set. The blow had fallen on the rear brim, which was crushed and
splintered.
Bob still felt excruciating pain on the back of his head, but came to
the conclusion that the softening of the blow had saved him from a
crushed skull and that in a day or two he would be all right.
Through this hole in the brim, resting on the tip of his nose, he could
see a portion of his surroundings. The light was fading. Evidently,
twilight had come. Bob wondered at that, which meant he had been riding
all, or at least the better part of, the day.
A halt had been called, and in the line of his vision Bob could see a
fire just beginning to blaze, and the bare legs of men coming and going
about it. There were no tents, and Bob’s first conclusion, namely that
they had halted at an encampment of other Athensians, evidently was
incorrect. The few figures, and the absence of such noises as would
attend a large camp, were assurance that no additions had been made to
the party.
Speculation as to what would be his fate took possession of Bob, as he
again closed his eyes to ease the pain behind them. That he had been
captured for a purpose was apparent. Otherwise, when he had put up his
heroic fight, he would have been killed. Well, at least he was to be let
live; for a while, anyhow. That was something. While there was life, he
told himself, there was no need to despair.
Bob wondered what had become of Jack and Ali. Were they aware of his
predicament? Had they seen him captured and carried away, and would Mr.
Hampton set out to rescue him? Or was his fate unknown, and the outcome
of his adventure dependant solely on his own exertions? Would Mr.
Hampton give him up for lost and eventually carry out his plan to
abandon the expedition and return to civilization?
All these questions and many more passed through Bob’s brain as he lay
there on the ground, while the blood slowly worked its way through his
cramped limbs and he felt every minute a return of strength and even
noted a diminution of the pain in his head. He was thankful that, at
least, he had not been incapacitated physically, that apparently his
strength and the use of his body was left him. When the time came for a
break for freedom, he told himself grimly, he’d show these Athensians.
At that moment, through the hole in the brim of his sun helmet, just as
he again opened his eyes, he saw the legs of a man approaching. Then a
hand grasped him by an arm and shook him, and the hat was lifted from
his eyes. Bending over him was an Athensian, a sturdy, stockily built
fellow, who jerked at his arm and indicated by signs that he was to rise
to his feet.
Bob struggled to comply, pretending to greater weakness than really
possessed him. He figured that if he appeared to be in a weaker state
than was the case, his chances for escape would be increased.
The man passed an arm around Bob and placed one of Bob’s arms over his
shoulders, and then walked him the few steps toward the fire. The other
Athensians were seated about it, among them Bob noted with a grim
reflection of satisfaction one with his face almost entirely obscured by
a bandage. That must be the fellow who had felt the weight of his rifle,
and had, in fact, been bowled from his saddle by it. To their rear,
among a patch of stunted bush, were hobbled the horses. The leader, the
one whom Bob had leaped upon in his jump from camelback, sat a little
withdrawn from the others, leaning against a saddle.
Bob was led to him, and with a word in an unknown tongue the leader
dismissed the Athensian who bowed profoundly and withdrew.
“Sit down,” commanded the leader, again employing French, and indicating
a spot at his feet.
Bob complied. For several moments there was silence, while both young
men studied each other. Bob’s first thought was that this Athensian was
little older than himself, a man of perhaps twenty-three or twenty-four.
Bob was twenty-one.
In appearance, the Athensian had a pleasing face. His eyes, bright blue,
twinkled. The bold hawklike nose gave him an air of command, even of
nobility. It was hard to judge from the seated figure, but Bob’s surmise
was that the other was over the middle height, probably five feet nine
or ten.
In his eyes was an expression of satisfaction as the Athensian ran his
glance over Bob’s figure, and the first words uttered by either was his
sudden remark, shot at Bob:
“Monsieur is very strong.”
Sounded as if he were going to be a good sport about that leap upon him,
thought Bob, and he grinned.
“Did I muss you up much?” he asked in his best French, in reply.
“Nothing personal, you know. I was fighting for my life.”
The Athensian nodded.
“Two ribs were broken when monsieur fell on me,” he said.
“Say, that’s pretty tough,” commiserated Bob. “Makes it hard for you
when riding, doesn’t it?”
A shrug of the shoulders was the other’s sole reply, while he continued
to stare at Bob.
“Monsieur is, perhaps, an athlete, yes?” he asked, with rising
inflection. “He participates in college sports?”
Mighty chummy of him, thought Bob.
“Oh, a little,” he said.
“Monsieur is too modest,” the Athensian said suavely. “Doubtless, he is
a great man among the youth of his land. Is it England? Monsieur is not
French nor Spanish. Then he must be English. I have heard the English
are fine sportsmen.”
“Huh,” blurted Bob. “I’m an American. In our country we have as good
sports as in England.”
“An American?” queried the Athensian, in a tone of enlightenment. “Then
how comes monsieur in this far country?”
Bob did not reply. What could he say? He was puzzled by the Athensian’s
attitude? Asking him about sports first, and then demanding how he came
to be here in the Sahara. Besides, how did this Athensian happen to be
speaking French, when he lived in a hidden city unknown to the world?
Bob decided it would not come amiss for him to ask a question or two by
way of continuing the conversation. So he smiled at the other, and said:
“How do I happen to be here?” With a laugh: “Oh, just hunting ostriches
when you bagged me. What was the meaning of that, anyway? You don’t look
like a robber. And how is it you speak French so well?”
The Athensian bent a stern gaze on Bob. The twinkle died out of his
eyes.
“Monsieur was not merely hunting ostriches,” he said. “Yes, perhaps, at
the moment. But he came here to meet a scientific man who had blundered
upon the secret of those mountains, _ne c’est pas_? Is it not so?” With
a quick wave of his hand he indicated the Shaitun Mountains on the
southern horizon, just dimly seen in the last of the fading twilight.
“Now,” continued the Athensian, “monsieur will be well advised to answer
me truthfully. We do not want intruders in those mountains, whence I
come. We are not ready yet to receive visitors. And monsieur came to pry
into our privacy. Yet it was not for that he has been captured, but for
his thews.”
“My what?” Bob stared open-mouthed, scarcely able to believe his ears.
“The strong men among the slaves were not satisfactory this year,” said
the other cryptically. “Monsieur is a good fighter. Yes, he will fight
well. He will be well cared-for and be given his chance to distinguish
himself.”
Bob stared at the cynical, laughing face of the other.
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
“Monsieur will learn all in good time,” replied the Athensian. “Now he
shall eat, and afterwards he shall answer my questions about his
companions.” He clapped his hands, and an Athensian guard approached.
The leader indicated Bob was to be led away and fed. “Remember,” he
called, “monsieur will answer truthfully, or——” He left the sentence
unfinished. But Bob smelled the threat of torture, just the same.