TRUE FRIENDSHIP.
During the heat of the day we halted in a grove, while two men rode on
to inform the Jews that an English doctor and his companion were on
their way to visit the Ingleezee refugee. Late that night they returned,
saying that our arrival would be welcomed by the invalid, who was no
better. So, shortly afterwards, we continued our journey, and in the
early hours of the morning reached our destination, when the sheik,
bidding us remain a few yards away, went on to interview the Jews. He
came back almost at once, with the news that the Ingleezee was alone in
the hut, as the Jews had left him some hours before. The man was
evidently very ill, and wished to see the English doctor as soon as
possible, but requested the sheik to keep his Arabs outside the hut.
The squalid dwelling which we entered had but one small room, which was
badly lighted by an oil lamp standing on the floor. In one corner lay
the man whom we had come to succour. Speaking with a feeble voice, he
addressed us in English, but with a foreign accent. The voice was
familiar to me, but I could not remember ever to have seen the
scrubbly-bearded face of the speaker, who was shading his eyes and
gazing into my face.
"Valter 'Enderson," he said, "you do not recollect poor Fritz Kellner."
I stared at him in amazement, and, completely overcome, I could find no
words with which to reply. It was a terrible shock to me to see my
ever-cheery cabin companion in so desperate a plight, and to think that
he and his revolver had played such havoc with the Shammar. I turned
away from him almost in horror, while Edwards knelt down and examined
him; then, when I had roused myself to a sense of duty, I went across
and took his hand.
"My poor friend," I said, "how _could_ you have come to this?"
"It was that accursed Girdle," said he. "Take my advice, and touch it
not; for within it lies a devil incarnate, goading one to madness, and
impelling one to do such things as no sane man would dream of doing. But
it is a lovely treasure--the most superb piece of workmanship that I
have ever handled; and to have been the possessor of it even for a few
days was well worth all the hardships that I have endured."
"Do you not now possess it?" I asked. "You speak as if it were a thing
of the past."
"Alas," he replied, "I had to let it go. The Jews who are my hosts heard
a few hours ago that a strong party of Aeniza were in search of it, and
had discovered that I had it here. They may arrive at any moment; but
they will be disappointed, for the Girdle is now being conveyed by the
two Jews to a place of safety."
No sooner did I hear that we were likely to be visited by Aeniza, than I
slipped out of the hut, to warn our people. Day was already breaking,
and the Shammar sheik laughed when I told him that the Aeniza were
coming. They feared no Aeniza, he said; though, even as he spoke, he
motioned to his men to get to their horses; and as I returned to the
hut, I saw him lead them away, at a canter, to a hollow in the ground
situated half a mile or so from the spot. For a long while Edwards and I
sat silently watching the unfortunate German, who now had sunk into a
restless sleep.
"Can he possibly pull round?" I asked in a whisper.
"I should not like to offer an opinion," said Edwards. "I have not
overhauled him properly; but, as far as I can make out, he is in an
awful state. If I had him in hospital at Baghdad, I might do something
for him. Here, without any appliances, I am powerless."
"What can we do?" I asked.
"We ought to send, or one of us go, into Hillah," said he, "and get our
friend the Captain to take the man into his hospital. It cannot be many
miles from here, as you will remember that we visited the Tower one
morning from Hillah."
"I'll go off myself," I said, "if you will stay and look after the man.
I daresay the sheik will see me on the way, as he is interested in
Kellner's recovery, though I had better not say that the Girdle has got
adrift again."
The words were hardly out of my mouth before the sound of countless
galloping horses broke on our ears; and, rushing to the door, we opened
it a couple of inches and peered out. The whole place seemed to be alive
with Bedouin horsemen, and before we could secure the door, the two
foremost of the party, springing from their horses, had torn it open. We
recoiled towards the corner where lay the feeble Kellner, who, either in
a state of delirium, or from force of habit, sat up and snatched his
revolver from under his pillow. Edwards, however, seized his wrist, as
his finger touched the trigger, and the bullet buried itself in the
roof. But the report of the pistol was the signal for a general assault
on the hut; we ourselves were quickly overpowered, and the whole place
was levelled to the ground almost before we knew what had happened.
Then, above the din, I heard a voice which to me was music. It was the
rallying shout of the great Faris; there was no mistaking it; and, a
second later, my hand grasped his, and Sedjur and Edwards simultaneously
recognised each other.
"So it is you," said Faris, after he had recovered from his first
surprise, "whom I have been hunting for so long. How did you succeed in
carrying off that serpent belt?"
"I have it not," I answered. "I have never seen it since that horrible
night when Raspul was killed."
"But they told me," said Faris, "that an Ingleezee had secured it, and
had ridden with it to this spot."
"That may have been true," I replied, "yet----"
I broke off suddenly, remembering then for the first time that our
Shammar friends were lying in ambush close by, ready to fall on the
Aeniza. I was in a dilemma, and I could see that Edwards had also
forgotten everything, in his joy at meeting Faris and Sedjur again. To
betray the Shammar, I felt, would be base in the extreme. To allow them
to surprise the Aeniza would be still more base. Bloodshed must be
avoided at all costs. I knew that the mere handful of men of which the
Shammar party consisted, would stand no chance against the hundred or
more Aeniza who were with Faris; I felt convinced, also, that, however
great the risk, the Shammar sheik would not hesitate to attack. All this
passed through my mind in the space of a minute, and within that minute
I had also decided on the course I would pursue.
"Sheik Faris," I said, and I spoke rapidly, "I am well acquainted with
your generosity. Grant me a favour."
"To you, magician," he answered, laughing, "I will grant anything you
ask, knowing, as I do, that you possess the power to take it, whether I
grant it or not."
"Then," said I, "bid your men mount at once. A score of Shammar lay
concealed over yonder. They are my friends, and I ask of you that there
shall be no bloodshed."
"You are certainly taxing my generosity," said he, "but, though I do not
pretend to be a Hatim Tai, your friends shall be shown the road to
safety."
Collecting his men, and leading them out, Faris rode towards the spot
which I had pointed out to him while I watched anxiously to see what
would happen I had not to wait long, however; for, before the Aeniza had
gone a few yards, I saw, to my intense relief, that even the Shammar
were aware that discretion is the better part of valour, and were in
full flight across the desert. Faris pursued only to such a distance as
to lead his foes to believe that he was in earnest, and then, recalling
his men, brought them back to the shadow of the Birs Nimroud.
What astonished the sheik more than anything was the recovery of his own
two horses, which we had lost at the ruins of Katib; and, as Edwards had
foretold long before, he ascribed it to my dealings with magic.
"One thing is certain," said Faris, after he had heard all our
adventures, "and that is that we cannot remain here. Hillah is too near,
and the Turkis are in a restless state just now. Our tents are but four
days' journey away; our riding camels we can reach to-night; the Jews
who have made away with your heart's desire we shall yet reckon with; so
you and the good Hakim shall come once again to the Jelas tents, and we
will start as soon as possible."
"But what shall we do with the sick stranger?" I asked.
"Leave him to the vultures," was the curt reply.
"Great sheik," I said reprovingly, "that was not spoken out of the heart
of Faris-ibn-Feyzul. What if the Englishman who found your wounded
Sedjur had uttered such words?"
"Then what do you wish to do with him?" asked Faris. "You say that he is
too ill to ride, and we must move quickly."
Edwards and I consulted, and, much against my will, I felt bound to act
as he advised. We could not abandon Kellner; to take him away into the
desert would probably kill him; moreover, since Edwards had no medicines
with him, he could do little or nothing for the ailing German, even if
the journey did not prove fatal. On the other hand, Hillah lay only a
few miles away, and the Turkish hospital there was well-equipped. So we
decided that Kellner must be conveyed to Hillah, and as, of course, the
Aeniza would not go near the place, we two would have to accompany him.
Now came the difficulty; to walk was out of the question, Kellner had no
horse, and the horses which we had been riding belonged to Faris, who,
however, was in possession of the two horses which we had brought with
us from Baghdad. In the end, we agreed to lay the matter before the
sheik, and trust to his generosity to help us. At first he was greatly
disappointed at the thought that we proposed to leave him, as he had
intended to give us a grand reception at his headquarters, and he had
hoped that we would have travelled with his people when they moved to
their winter grazing grounds in the Hamad. He argued with us about the
folly of abandoning our search for the Girdle, after all that we had
passed through, and when there was every hope of our obtaining it, but
finding that our minds were made up, and that no words of his would make
us change them, he accepted the inevitable, and acted in a far more
noble manner than we could have expected.
"You shall have your wish," said he, "and some day you will again visit
the Jelas tents, where you will always be truly welcome. I shall send
away to their camp all my men save six, who, with Sedjur and myself,
will ride with you this night to the very walls of the town. There we
shall leave you ere day dawns, when we can gallop away out of danger,
and overtake our camels on the way to the tents."
How grateful we felt to the great man for this fresh mark of friendship
we found it difficult to convey to him in words, and Kellner, on hearing
the news that within twenty-four hours he would be lodged safely in the
hospital at Hillah, sobbed with joy. The glittering spears of the Aeniza
soon passed away over the distant sky-line, and our small party, lying
in a sand hollow, awaited the fall of night.
Almost before it was dark, we set out on what Edwards and I felt was our
return to the world. It was a slow journey, for we moved at a walk, two
of the Bedouins on foot carrying Kellner, who was found to be incapable
of sitting on a horse. But the distance was not great, and, soon after
midnight, we saw the walls of Hillah outlined against the starlit sky.
Faris led us silently to a small date garden, in the corner of which was
a hut, where dwelt an old man, who, he told us, was his friend--or, more
correctly, his paid spy. Entering the hut, the sheik soon found the
owner, sleeping within the doorway, and a conversation of some length
followed. Then a candle was lighted in the inner room, and we were
informed that we could stay there for the remainder of the night.
Making Kellner as comfortable as was possible in a corner of the room,
we received our last instructions from Faris. As soon as the gates of
the town were open, the old man would go and interview the doctor at the
hospital, and relate how three Europeans had found their way during the
night to his house, and that one of them was very ill. In all
probability, a Turkish guard would then be sent out to fetch us in,
after which it would be for us to act as circumstances dictated. More
than that the sheik regretted that he could not arrange. We thanked him
profusely for what he had done for us, and I promised that, if it were
ever possible, I would come to the desert again and pay him a visit. He
made us a present of the two horses, saying that we might require them
to reach Baghdad; and then, to my delight, he lifted up his cloak, and
unfastened my chamois-leather belt from his waist.
"I have worn it for safety," said he, "ever since I returned to my tent
from our ride to the ruins. Your other goods, and those of the Hakim, I
will watch over until we meet again."
"And should we not come again," I answered, "then keep the things in
remembrance of us. There is little of value."
"The money in your belt, O magician," continued Faris, laughing as he
handed it to me, "still remains untouched. Thus again does your magic
recover your long-lost goods. Would that it had brought you Queen
Sophana's Serpent Belt also? But I will find it for you. I will yet
prove that I am worthy of the reward of the great Shahzadi's shoe.
Return to Baghdad, and rest there until a message calls you to the
desert. I say no more. Be patient. Allah is great."
Gripping our hands in silence, the sheik and Sedjur parted from us with
unfeigned grief, and strode out into the darkness. A moment later we
heard a muffled word of command, followed by a clatter of hoofs, and the
party had gone.
Sleep was out of the question. The day's work had been full of incident,
and a dubious morrow was before us. We had much to think over, and many
things to discuss; so, leaving the exhausted Kellner asleep, we went
outside, and sat among the palm trees.
"George," said I, "we are in the last lap. It is a straight run home
now."
"Yes," he replied, "unless something goes wrong. Personally, I am not
altogether sorry, except for your disappointment."
"I suppose the best thing we can do," I remarked, "will be to get away
to Baghdad as soon as possible."
"Of course," said Edwards. "What else can we do?"
"Why, slip back to Faris," I answered, "and have another try for the
Golden Girdle."
"Believe me," said Edwards, "you will do no good with the thing except
through our German friend. He has fought hard for it, and you may rest
assured that he was not fool enough to part with it without being
perfectly certain that he would find it again. Besides, have you not
grasped the fact that it belongs to him. He got it in much the same way
as you meant to get it."
"Not quite," said I, "for he did not play fair with the Shammar who
helped him to get it. If he had paid them what he promised, then I
should certainly agree that he had every right to the Girdle."
"Splitting hairs," said Edwards. "Judging by what we have seen of desert
methods, he who possesses a thing considers himself its rightful
owner--until he loses it. If I were you, I should wait until Kellner
recovers, and then try and come to terms with him."
"I believe you are right, George," I replied. "But, to tell you the
honest truth, I have rather lost faith in the gentleman. In fact, since
this morning my dull wits have been sharpened, and, if I am not very
much mistaken, the German 'shadowed' me all the way from Marseilles to
Baghdad, and got out of me all the information that he required. It
makes me positively sick when I think of it."
"Never mind," said Edwards, consolingly, "it was not your fault. One
cannot go through life in a perpetual state of suspicion of everyone.
You have still got something up your sleeve; for, when you tell your
story, the world will not count Kellner as much of a hero."
For some reason Edwards and I were both in the lowest spirits. I, for my
part, had every cause for being depressed; I had had enough pleasant and
unpleasant experiences to last an ordinary man for his lifetime; my
labours had borne no fruit; I should return to Baghdad without having
effected anything, and, in all probability, my absence would have caused
grave anxiety to my parents. But, perhaps, what troubled me most was the
knowledge that I had been such a fool as to be taken in by Kellner.
Edwards, on the other hand, had, to my mind, very little to complain of.
He had seen more of the desert than almost any European had ever done,
had come through everything without a scratch, and was as fit as he had
been at starting. We had been living a free life for so long, that now
that there was the immediate prospect of our having to conform to the
conventionalities of civilisation, neither of us relished the idea of
the change. That was what was the matter with us; and I believe that if
I had argued with my companion for a little longer, he would have agreed
to leave Kellner to the old man, and have set out with me in search of
Faris. But I restrained my desire to influence Edwards one way or the
other, for my conscience told me that it was our duty to look after our
invalid.
We talked spasmodically until the stems of the date trees gradually
began to stand out against the increasing light in the heavens. Then,
when day had come, the old Arab set out on his mission, while we
returned to the hut to keep the German company. Thus we waited, it may
have been for a couple of hours, occasionally going outside to see if
the expected relief was coming; and at last we saw a party of soldiers
riding towards us, accompanied by men carrying a stretcher.