AMRATH SPEAKS.
What all this was leading to Mr. Hampton could not surmise, but he was
content to bide his time a moment longer, pretty well convinced by now
that the other was leading up to some denouncement.
“Yes,” he stated judicially, “I would say that whoever saw you would
have considered you dead. I myself believed so when we discovered you.
It was only after various tests that we were convinced you still lived,
and since then I have had a struggle to bring you back to sanity and
consciousness.”
“I suspected it,” said the man, grimly. “Let me think a moment
monsieur.” Again he closed his eyes. For not only one but several
minutes he continued to lie with his eyes closed, but that he not only
was awake but thinking tumultuous thoughts was apparent to Mr. Hampton
from the flush that mantled the man’s cheeks and from the labored rise
and fall of his chest.
“Monsieur,” said the man, snapping his eyes open again, “you have been
good to me. I can see that. I am not ungrateful. My people attempted to
kill me. They left me for dead. I am convinced of it. Now I shall
foreswear them. I shall be your friend, as I was the friend of Professor
Souchard.”
It was Mr. Hampton’s turn to exhibit surprise.
“Professor Souchard’s friend?” he queried in amazement.
“Another drink I beg you, monsieur,” pleaded the Athensian. Mr. Hampton
obediently poured water from the jar into the cup, and set the latter to
his lips. “Ah,” said the Athensian, satisfiedly, “that is delicious.
Already I feel myself growing much stronger.”
“And now,” said Mr. Hampton, “my time presses. Some of your people have
captured my son,” he added, to avoid needless explanation of Bob’s
identity. “And I was about to set out in pursuit and attempt his rescue
when you became conscious.”
“Tsst, tsst,” clucked the other, sympathetically. “That is bad.”
“A big fine fellow, six feet tall, an athlete,” said Mr. Hampton,
thinking of Bob’s fine appearance. “Well, I imagine he mussed up a
number before they took him.”
“An athlete?” queried the other, alertly. “And they did not shoot but
took him prisoner. Monsieur, that is very bad, very bad, indeed.”
“Why, what do you mean?”
“I have been here ten days,” said the other thoughtfully, seeming to
disregard Mr. Hampton’s question. “Yes, the Sacrificial Games, them, are
five weeks, no, six weeks, distant.”
Again Mr. Hampton demanded, this time a sharper note of anxiety in his
voice, what the Athensian sought to convey.
“Just this, monsieur,” said the other; “that your son is destined to
take part in the annual Sacrificial Games of my people. Every year
twelve of the strongest men from the outside world who can be found,
either taken prisoner by us in battle or raid, or bought in the slave
mart of Gao, are pitted in single combat against an equal number of
Athensian youth. The victor in each contest is then pitted against
another victor. Thus the competition is narrowed until only two remain.
These combats are to the death. The winner is worshipped one whole year
as the embodiment of the God of Strength. At the time of the annual
Sacrificial Games of the succeeding year he is killed as a sacrifice.”
“Good heaven,” said Mr. Hampton. “And is that the reason for this
purchase by your people of the strongest slaves in Gao, of which I have
heard?”
“Monsieur has heard?” queried the other, surprisedly. “Yes, that is the
reason.”
“I can’t stay any longer to talk to you,” said Mr. Hampton,
emphatically, springing to his feet. “I must set out at once to rescue
Bob.”
“But a moment, monsieur,” pleaded the other. “I would like to go with
you, but I am not strong enough. See, I cannot more than lift my arm,”
he added, suiting action to word.
“Yes, yes, I know,” Mr. Hampton said, impatiently. “But I must be off.
Allola, this old Arab woman, will look after you until my return. And if
I fail, well——” A shrug of the shoulders completed his sentence.
“Monsieur must not fail if he would see his son again,” the Athensian
said. “But before you go, let me explain. I shall be brief.”
Mr. Hampton unwillingly returned and the Athensian continued:
“I met Professor Souchard on one of his scouting expeditions about the
base of our mountain wall. I am an exile from Athensi, monsieur. How I
come to speak French is easily explained. I am of the priest clan, and
our young men for ages have been sent into the outside world for a
certain period of study. Always this has been so. We made our way into
Egypt under the Pharaohs. When Carthage rose, we were represented there.
At the height of Rome’s power, our young men were at her court, learning
the secrets of her civilization and power. Through each succeeding age,
we have gone out across the desert and entered the halls of learning of
the dominant races of civilization. I was one of those selected to study
the French, and I have served in the French Foreign Legion in Algiers.
“Then we return after a certain time, not to give the benefit of our
acquired knowledge to our people, who are steeped in ignorance, being
little better than the Kabyles of Northern Africa, who, as monsieur
doubtless knows, are a semi-savage white race living in the mountain.
No, we exercise this knowledge to retain our power. Some day there will
come a revolution. I was one of those not contented with this abuse of
power. I felt our country should be developed, and opened to
civilization, surrounded though it is on every side by the desert. For
this, I was an exile to Korakum.
“Another drink. I beg, monsieur. Ah, that is better. I draw near the
finish of my words. Monsieur, I see, is anxious to be gone. Well spies
of the Oligarch saw me converse with Professor Souchard whose first
escape from Korakum had been regretted by the priest clan as a mistake.
And heavily did they punish those who aided him then. Heavily monsieur.
They paid with their lives. For the priest clan does not wish
civilization from the outside world to enter our mountains, lest the
power of its members be shattered.
“But I have friends. Knowledge that I had been spied upon in my
conversations with Professor Souchard was not unknown to me. It was only
recently I had met him, on the next to last trip he made into our
region. When he came the last time, I met him out on the desert and
warned him the expedition which he and you, monsieur—for I suppose you
are the comrade he awaited—must turn back. He had not known before of
the priest clan, nor of all this I have told you so sketchily. He said
he would meet you at this oasis, and that he would tell you what I told
him and go back with you across the desert.
“On returning to the mountains, monsieur, I hid beside the outbound
trail. Hours later, a friend came to me with word that the Athensian
spies were starting with an expedition for the oasis, determined to kill
Professor Souchard and his man, Ben Hassim, rather than let them escape
and bring the world about our ears.
“I had a horse. I mounted, and with a bag of food and several water
bottles, set out to overtake my friend. Five days I rode, not sparing my
horse. Then he dropped dead, and I staggered on the last half day afoot.
But the Athensians overtook me.
“I was not killed monsieur. I was carried along to the oasis with them.
At its edge, the world went black to me.” He paused. “That is all,
monsieur. What has happened since, you know better than I.”
Mr. Hampton drew a long breath. The spell of the man’s tersely told
story had held him enthralled.
“They garroted Professor Souchard and Ben Hassim,” he said.
The Athensian’s lips compressed. “A trick of the priest clan’s followers
for disposing of enemies,” he said.
“And you were hit a blow on the back of the head, and left for dead
beside them. It was there we found you.”
“Ah,” said the other, composedly. “They lied to me. They said my life
would be spared.” A long pause followed, during which he raised a
languid hand to brush his eyes. “My name, monsieur,” he added, “is
Amrath. I have delayed you, but not for long. Go now, and luck be with
you. In the Valley of Korakum, should you reach it, you will find true
men named Jepthah, Amonasis and Shilluk. Should it be your fortune to
meet them, call upon them for help in my name. And now, luck be with
you. I shall await your return.”