THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT.
The pace was rapid, and the motion painful in the extreme. So
uncomfortable was I, that I found it quite impossible to collect my
thoughts, and I could not understand why I was being subjected to this
hideous torture. My bones ached all over, my body was becoming numbed,
and the gag in my mouth almost choked me. Yet I was powerless to do
anything, except gaze upwards at the stars, which appeared to swish
wildly backwards and forwards, as if attempting to fall in with the gait
of the camel. Was I another Mazeppa? Was I to be thus carried about the
desert until death came to my relief? Had all this been brought about by
the goddess Sophana, wrathful at my desire to possess her sacred girdle?
Such thoughts passed rapidly through my brain, and became jumbled up
with countless other thoughts. I lost consciousness, and regained it
only to find the same eternal condition of affairs, to hear the same
thud of the camel's feet, and to feel the same dipping plunge, as the
legs on my side of the beast flew forward. At last, I felt that I could
stand it no longer, and I prayed fervently that I might die before I
went mad. I thought that my prayer was about to be answered; I thought
that I was dying, when suddenly I heard shouting, and, without any
warning, the camel's legs appeared to scatter in all directions. The
"ship of the desert" had cast anchor, and so severe was the shock to my
feeble body, that every atom of breath was knocked out of it.
When I recovered, I found myself lying in a delightfully shady grove of
date trees, my arms and legs free, and a saddle-bag supporting my head.
I looked listlessly around, and saw a few camels and horses, and, at a
little distance, a group of Arabs squatting round a fire, and eating
their food. I turned over, and looked on the other side, and there, to
my surprise and delight, I saw George Edwards lying peacefully asleep,
within a yard of me. I tried to speak, but my jaw was stiff, and my
tongue would not move; so I sank back, and, utterly exhausted, dropped
off to sleep again. When next I awoke, Edwards was sitting by my side,
and our Shammar patient was holding a vessel of water to my parched
lips. How I drank! And, as I drank, new life seemed to enter into me.
[Illustration: "WHEN NEXT I AWOKE EDWARDS WAS SITTING BY MY SIDE."]
"If this is a dream, George," I remarked, "it is the most beastly
nightmare that I have ever assisted at."
"It is no dream, old chap," he said. "It is a stern reality. Thank
goodness that it is over."
"What has been going on, then?" I asked.
"I have just been hearing about it from our sick friend here," said
Edwards. "Unbeknown to him, his pals planned a rescue, and it seems that
they had been watching us for days. They managed to bring away all three
of the supposed horse-thieves, as well as their three horses and two
others, so they did pretty well."
"Why did they bother to bring _us_?" I asked.
"They have apologised most humbly," said Edwards, "but they say that it
was absolutely necessary that Ali Khan should be induced to believe that
we had assisted in the escape of the prisoners."
"Rather rough," said I, "that we should be made the scape-goats,
considering all the trouble you took about the sick man. Nice sort of
Englishmen old Ali Khan will think us, eating of his salt and accepting
his hospitality, and then assisting to rob him of his lawful prisoners
and his horses."
"I know," said Edwards; "but we will look up Ali Khan some day, and set
matters right. How are you feeling after that awful jolting?"
"Limp," I answered, "disgustingly limp. Were you also trussed up on the
side of a camel?"
"Much like yourself," said he. "I was on the same beast as
yourself--only that mountain of a hump between us. But I did not
discover it until I was taken down. I expect we shall be stiff for
days."
Then we talked over all that had occurred, and I found that our
experiences had been very similar, except that our kidnappers very
nearly did for Edwards by keeping the cloth too tight over his face
while they were tying him up. In fact, he had no recollection of
anything until he felt the cold air rushing across his face, as the
camel bore him along. We congratulated each other on having weathered
the tempestuous voyage, and we actually laughed over it--so ludicrous
did it seem, now that it was all over. According to what Edwards had
heard from the men, we must have come sixty or seventy miles straight on
end, as they were afraid of being followed; and how our sick man had
survived the journey we could not understand. There did not, however,
seem to be much the matter with him, and while we were talking he
appeared on the scene, bringing us some food.
"We were just wondering, Daud," said Edwards, addressing him, "why you
are alive. Surely you must be feeling ill after the long ride."
"Lord," answered the Bedouin, "it is good to be once more free in the
desert. It was the confinement that was killing me."
Naturally anxious to find out what was in store for us, we set to work
to cross-question our friend, while we ate the food which he had
brought. We learned that he and his two fellow-prisoners knew nothing of
the proposed rescue until it was an accomplished fact. Their rescuers
had never been able to communicate with them, although they had entered
the camp on more than one night, and had discovered how everything was
situated. Then they formed their plan, which was certainly a bold one.
Originally, the party had consisted of no more than six men, but not
daring to attempt the rescue with so few, the chief went off and secured
the services of ten of his kinsmen; and to each of the sixteen was
allotted a separate task. That they were all men to be trusted to carry
through a desperate enterprise the chief knew well; for he was aware
that if the courage of one man failed, the plan would be wrecked. He
himself and three others were to remain at some distance from the camp,
in charge of two camels and the horses of the party; five men were to
capture the horses; three to release the two prisoners from their holes
in the ground; and four to carry off ourselves and the man lying sick in
our tent. Nothing was left to chance; each man knew exactly where he had
to go, and each had sworn that if he were detected in the act of
performing his part, he would do all in his power to induce his captors
to believe that he was a thief who had entered the camp alone.
Everything worked without a hitch, and our friend was delighted at the
brilliant success.
"I am sorry," he said, as he concluded his story, "that it should have
been necessary to put you, my two kind friends, to so much discomfort,
but you may be sure that I will ever look after your welfare, and when
you shall have accomplished that for which the chief brought you away,
then you shall take your horses, and we will see you to within a safe
distance of Baghdad."
"I thought," said Edwards, "that you said that we were carried off, so
that Ali Khan might be deceived about your rescue."
"That was so," replied the Arab, "and that was what the chief of the
party at first told me. He has since given me a second reason; but he
will come presently to pay his respects to you, and will then explain
everything."
It was not long before the promised visit was paid, and our visitor, who
was accompanied by nearly all the members of the party, delighted us by
his urbanity--if such a term can be used of a real child of the desert.
He was frank and open in his speech, and he told us that he and his men
felt greatly honoured by having us with them; that he hoped that we had
not suffered much bodily pain by our long ride; and that we would not
want for anything while we remained their guests. Then he shook each of
us warmly by the hand; smiled on us; and, before we realised that he had
told us nothing, walked away. We were on the point of calling after him
to stay and explain matters, when Daud, our sick man, whispered to us to
have patience; the chief, he said, could not speak fully before all his
men, but he would return later, when the camp had settled down for the
night.
So we possessed our souls in patience, and spent the remaining hour or
so of daylight in making ourselves comfortable in the little wigwam that
had been erected for us. Soon after dark, Daud returned with the chief,
who brought with him his long pipe, whereby we knew that the sitting was
to be of considerable duration. His conversation was delightful, and he
discussed nearly everything under the sun; but, to our intense
annoyance, kept away from the only topic which for the time being was of
interest to us. He recounted deeds of personal valour, and told us of
his many encounters with the Aeniza; he dilated on the pleasures of
Baghdad; and described the fanaticism of the pilgrims who visit the Holy
Shrine at Kerbela each year; and I verily believe that he would have
left us in ignorance of the future, had I not summoned up courage to put
a direct question to him.
"Tell us now, sheik," I said, "how we can be of service to you. We are
willing to assist you in any way that we can, but my friend is eager to
return to his duties at Baghdad as soon as it shall be convenient to
you."
"Dear me," said he, "I had almost forgotten the object of my visit, so
pleasant have I found your company. But now that you have recalled me to
myself, we will discuss business."
Long and earnestly did he then speak, and he gave us a full explanation
for his having carried us off from Ali Khan's camp. There were three
reasons. The first was, as Daud had told us, in order to deceive Ali
Khan, and so prevent him from having a cause of everlasting feud with
the Shammar tribesmen. As matters stood, it was his hope that Ali Khan
would think that Edwards and I had released the three prisoners, and had
assisted in the theft of the five horses, for them and ourselves to
ride. The second reason was that the sheik knew that Daud was ill and
might require the attention of a doctor; he knew that one of us was a
doctor, but being uncertain which, had thought it advisable to bring
both of us. But the third reason was the most important, and doubtless
the real cause of our having been kidnapped.
"From my friend Daud," continued the sheik, "I have learned much
information concerning you. From him also you have learned many things,
and you know of your mysterious fellow-countryman, as well as of his
evil deeds. You know also of the gold belt which he has with him, and
for which he promised to pay 5000 kerans. But of more recent events
neither you nor Daud have heard."
Then he related how he and his men had come to know that the "ill-born
Ingleezee," as he styled him, had taken refuge with two Jews who lived
in a hovel close to the Birs Nimroud--the reputed Tower of Babel, a few
miles from Hillah. These Jews had always been firm friends of the
Shammar, and had helped them out of many difficulties, and for that
reason they felt bound to respect the person of the man who had become
the _dakhil_, or protected guest, of the Jews. They were thus cheated of
their revenge, and the blood feud was at an end. Yet, there was now a
hope that the Ingleezee, who was very ill, would be induced to pay them
the money for the belt; in fact, he had told the Jews that he would do
so, if he should recover sufficiently to reach Baghdad. The long and the
short of it was that Edwards was to go and treat the man, so that the
Shammar might get their 5000 kerans. We were, we were told, barely
twenty-five miles from the spot, and it was proposed that we should rest
the next day, starting on the journey at nightfall. We willingly agreed
to undertake the work, for we were naturally inquisitive as to the
strange individual of whom we had heard such queer tales. Moreover, I
saw before me a chance of striking a bargain for the Golden Girdle. I
was prepared to pay the Shammar what had been promised, and to give the
mysterious foreigner something for himself in addition. I built palatial
castles in the air, and continued to build them until long after our
host had brought his visit to a close. The Serpent Belt of Sophana lay
within measurable distance of my grasp. Two days hence it might be
actually mine. Before the week had ended, Edwards and I might be back in
Baghdad, when a wire to my uncle announcing my success would make the
name of Walter Henderson famous, if not in the world, at any rate in the
British Museum. My mother had often told me how, when I was quite a
small boy, she had been present, at the Albert Hall, at the reception
given to the great Stanley, on his return from the Emin Pasha
expedition; and how the Prince of Wales and all London were there to do
him honour. I trembled to think what was in store for me. Would I also
have to face tier above tier of London society? Would I have to deliver
an address, and relate all my experiences? Undoubtedly all these things
would happen, and more besides. I should, of course, be commanded to a
private audience of the King at Buckingham Palace, so that he might
inspect the Girdle, before others had seen it. Then I thought of the
endless dinners of various learned societies in London, whereat I should
be the guest of the evening. I began to wonder if I could stand it all;
or if it would not be better to seek the post of commander-in-chief to
Ali Khan, when he should be reinstated at Adiba.
So I dreamed on far into the night, and the sleep that followed was
unbroken for many hours of the following day.
At dusk we prepared for our new journey, and our friend Daud himself
brought us our horses, smiling as he told us that the chief presented
them to us. I was given the horse that I had ridden to the ruins of
Katib with Faris, while Faris's own horse was bestowed on Edwards.
"Little did you think," remarked Daud to me, "that you would ever ride
this horse again."
"We never know," said I, "what is written in our fate."
"True," said he; "Allah alone knows."
[Illustration: "DAYLIGHT SHOWED US, IN THE FAR DISTANCE, THE MOUND OF
THE BIRS NIMROUD"]
Then, by the light of a glorious moon, we all rode out across the
trackless expanse--a few men ahead, a few on either flank, and others in
rear; and thus we continued to ride, Daud and the sheik ever conversing
with us, until the moon paled before the rising sun, and daylight showed
us, in the far distance, the mound of the Birs Nimroud.