CHAPTER XXX--THE REVOLT

The funeral took place next morning, as is the native custom, and it was

during the great gathering of the Sheikh's friends that the adherents of

the opposing faction made their feared _coup_. The event, and its

serious consequences for Muriel and Daniel, was upon them so quickly

that there was no time for preparation or retreat.

Muriel had not gone to the funeral, and she was sitting quietly writing

in the living-room when Daniel flung open the door.

"Quick!" he said. "Get ready to start at once. Leave your dressing-case:

you just want your water-bottle and a tin or two of food from the

cupboard. We've got to ride like the wind. I'm just going to get the

camels."

She stared at him in amazement as he hastened away, and thought how

extremely inconsiderate he was; but the realization that her

extraordinary fortnight with him was now at an end led her to obey his

instructions with alacrity. She was soon ready, but for some time she

waited impatiently for his reappearance.

At last he came in, this time slowly and with careful serenity.

"I'm afraid the journey's off," he said.

Muriel was angry, and she tapped her foot sharply on the floor. "Oh,

you're impossible!" she exclaimed. "I'm all ready to start, and now you

say you're not going."

He looked at her gravely and steadily for a moment, and then very calmly

he told her what had occurred. While Ibrahim and those of his adherents

who had not gone to El Khargeh were attending the funeral, the rival

faction had seized every camel and donkey in the Oasis, for of the

former more than half the number owned by the inhabitants had gone with

the caravan. They had disarmed the village _ghaffirs_, or guards, they

had proclaimed their own chief as Sheikh of the Oasis, and they had

picketed every track leading out into the desert and to the lands

beyond.

Daniel had found his and Muriel's camel gone from the stable, and he had

encountered a group of "enemy" leaders who had informed him that he

would not be permitted to communicate with the outside world for several

days.

"Their idea," he explained, lighting his pipe, "is to get their man

firmly established in power before the police hear of it, and then it

will be a _fait accompli_. It is to be a peaceful revolution, without

bloodshed if possible; but I don't suppose they will hesitate to shoot

anybody who tries to get away. So, you see, we're caught."

Muriel received the news calmly. According to the time-table the

Bindanes would return to El Homra tomorrow or the next day, and then, if

she had not made her reappearance, they would probably send her dragoman

and a trooper or two to fetch her. But Daniel pointed out that three

days might elapse before these men arrived, and two weeks before the

authorities in Egypt could give instructions. Moreover, their coming

might lead to an awkward situation for himself and her.

"You see, they know that I will support Ibrahim's claim," he said,

puffing quietly at his pipe, "for I promised his father I would do so;

and if an unfortunate accident could account for you and me, it would be

all the better for them. Supposing, for example, you and I were found to

have gone out hunting, and to have lost our way, and to have fallen over

a cliff or something of that kind, there would be nobody much to uphold

Ibrahim against a rival already established in office."

Daniel did not take his eyes from hers as he put this aspect of the

matter before her. It was as though he were testing her nerve; or

perhaps it was that he thought candour best in regard to a contingency

the possibility of which would doubtless occur to her.

"It seems to me," she said presently, "that human nature is much the

same all the world over. You were rather intolerant of the intrigues of

Cairo; but rivalries and disputes evidently go on in the desert too. I'm

very disappointed."

"So am I," he replied, with disarming candour. "The only thing to be

said for it is that it has been done pretty openly and boldly."

"What do you intend to do?" she asked. She was remarkably calm.

"I'm going to slip away after dark," he replied, with a smile, "and walk

to El Homra."

"It's thirty miles," she said. "And supposing you get shot or

caught...?"

"You can come too, if you like," he replied. He might have added that

this actually was his intention.

She remained silent for some moments, her face a little flushed, her

fingers drumming on the table. In spite of her self-control he could see

that she realized the danger. "Yes," she said at length, "I'll come

too."

He smiled broadly. She caught sight of his strong white teeth, in which

the stem of his pipe was gripped.

"I don't see anything to smile about," she remarked.

He did not answer. In his mind there was an astonishing sense of

exultation. He had had no idea that she would show such quiet pluck: he

had hardly dared to think, as he put the graver possibilities of their

situation before her, that she would receive the news without a tremor.

But now, suddenly, his heart was crying out within him: "This is my

mate; this is the woman who will dare all with me"; and he laughed to

think of their present absurd relationship. He did not realize how deep

was their estrangement.

After the midday meal he sent her to her room to rest, and, pocketing

his revolver, went down into the village. Here all was quiet, but he

observed that small groups of the revolters were moving to and fro, some

of them carrying their antiquated firearms. Ibrahim, he was told, was

more or less a prisoner in his own house, and he thought it politic to

make no attempt to visit him.

"Time will show," he said to an adherent of the usurper, "whether your

master is worthy to be Sheikh"; and that was as far as he would commit

himself.

At tea-time he returned to the monastery, and now he gave full

instructions to Hussein. The latter was to go to bed as usual that

night, and was to take no part in the events of the darkness. He was to

call his master an hour after sunrise, and if it chanced that he failed

to find him, he was to take what steps he chose to report the

disappearance and exonerate himself from blame.

It was not until after nightfall that any outward signs of their

dangerous situation were to be observed. Daniel found then that three

armed natives were loitering outside the ruined walls, and, in answer to

his enquiries as to their business, they told him amiably that they were

there to prevent him leaving the Oasis.

"But how can I leave it without a camel?" he asked. "In the morning you

must tell your master that the two camels must be brought back to me.

They must be here before midday." His voice was peremptory, and the

natives salaamed respectfully.

It was at about an hour before midnight that, from the top of his tower,

he took a final survey of his surroundings. There was a young moon in

the heavens, and by its pale light he observed the figure of one of the

guards reclining on the sand, his back against the wall, directly

beneath the window of Muriel's room. The other two, as he had previously

noticed, were seated in a more or less comatose state at the entrance of

the monastery, at which point they no doubt presumed that reason

required them to remain.

He descended stealthily from the tower, and, feeling his way through the

dark refectory, found Muriel seated, ready, upon her bed. In silence she

rose to her feet, and thereupon Daniel gathered up the bedclothes in his

arms and crept with them to the window. She did not know what he was

about to do, but presently she saw him crouching upon the sill, his

figure silhouetted against the sky.

Suddenly, with a flutter of the blankets, he disappeared, and from

outside she heard a series of muffled sounds. Darting to the window, she

saw him struggling with what appeared to be a furiously animated bundle

of bedclothes from which two kicking brown legs protruded; and, a moment

later, this bundle was lifted from the ground.

"Quick!" he whispered, looking up at her, and thereupon she crawled

through the window and jumped on to the soft sand outside.

Daniel, clasping his burden, with the head pressed against his breast,

told her to pick up the man's rifle and to put it through the window on

to her bed. When she had done so he at once set off at a run towards the

open desert, and Muriel followed him, her heart wildly beating. A

distance of not more than fifty yards separated them from some clusters

of rock which would shelter them from sight, and soon they were

scrambling over the rough ground in temporary immunity from detection.

Here Daniel paused to rearrange his struggling captive, who was in grave

danger of suffocation, and, having warned him that a single sound would

mean instant death, he lifted him across his shoulder, with the blankets

more loosely thrown over his head, and again broke into a jog-trot.

When about a quarter of a mile had been covered they descended into a

shallow ravine, with which Daniel was well acquainted; and here, being

screened from the Oasis, he set down his burden, cautiously removing the

bedclothes from the perspiring and anxious face. The man's eyes were

wide with fear as he found himself looking into the muzzle of a

revolver; but his captor smilingly reassured him, promising him that no

harm would come to him if he but walked ahead in complete silence.

"I am afraid," he said in Arabic, "that you are about to have a somewhat

lengthy walk."

"Where are we going?" the man asked.

"To El Homra," Daniel replied casually.

"_Ya salaam!_" exclaimed the man, in an awed whisper. In our language

the expression may be rendered "Oh, lor'!"

The ravine led them to the northwest, and they must have covered nearly

two miles before Daniel deemed it safe to bear off more to the north,

over the higher ground. The going was easy, for the surface of the rocks

was smooth, and the light of the moon sufficient to prevent stumbling;

and an hour's walking brought them to a point at which they could

without risk move to the east, so as to pick up the track leading to El

Homra. This they found at length without any difficulty, and they now

judged themselves to be beyond the pickets, being already two or three

miles distant from the near end of the Oasis.

The first danger was now past, and Daniel therefore began to discuss

with Muriel their chances of success.

"We must have come six or seven miles," he said. "I suppose you are

pretty tired?"

"No," she answered, "I can keep up for some time yet. You've taken me

for some pretty long walks during the last fortnight: it was good

training."

"Well, say when you're done," he said, "and I'll carry you."

"Thanks," she replied stiffly, "I'm not a child."

They walked on in silence, three ghostly figures stalking through the

dim light of a dream.

"I suppose," said Daniel presently, "that they'll not miss us until well

after sunrise, if then; so I think our chances are fairly rosy. It all

depends on your feet, my girl."

With the extra mileage due to their detour, the distance to the half-way

pool would be about eighteen miles or so; and it was obvious to Daniel

that Muriel would not be able to stand more than twelve or fourteen. He

therefore glanced anxiously at her every now and then as they pushed

forward across the great open plain which lay between the two oases; and

at length he noticed that she was limping.

It was nearly four o'clock in the morning, and they were still some four

or five miles distant from the pool, when Daniel suddenly took hold of

her arm.

"Now I'm going to carry you," he said.

She did not protest. For some time she had been hobbling forward in a

kind of nightmare, her feet sore and burning, her knees feeble, and her

brain fevered. The moon had now set, but the stars gave sufficient light

for them to see the straight track beneath them. She hardly realized

what he was doing as he lifted her from the ground, putting one of his

great arms about her shoulders and the other under her knees. In a

confused manner she was aware of a feeling of annoyance at her weakness;

but presently, nevertheless, her head dropped upon his shoulder. She did

not sleep, but she was certainly not awake.

When at last she recovered full consciousness she found to her infinite

surprise that the day was breaking, and that Daniel was in the act of

depositing her upon the sand at the edge of the half-way pool.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed. "How far have you carried me, man?"

"About five miles," he said, rubbing his stiff arms. "Now for a bit of a

rest."

She was wide awake again, and to her great relief she found that her

feet were no longer burning. Their wretched captive, however, was

entirely exhausted, and was stretched upon his stomach, drinking

greedily from the pool.

Daniel himself did not show any marked signs of fatigue. A walk of

eighteen miles was nothing to him, and the burden of Muriel's weight was

not intolerable to a man of his colossal strength.

When half an hour later, they resumed their journey the sun was rising

above the distant hills. They walked off alone, for Daniel had extracted

an inviolable promise from their captive to rest where he was until noon

before setting out on his return journey; and he had given the man a few

biscuits and a slice or two of meat to keep him going. Both Muriel and

Daniel had bathed their feet in the pool, and having eaten a square meal

they fared forth once more with some degree of vigour.

As the sun increased in power, however, this sense of freshness

vanished, and but five miles had been covered when Daniel was obliged

once more to take his companion in his arms, in spite of her valiant

protests. This time he set her upon his shoulder, clasping her about the

legs, and every mile or two he varied the position.

From the pool to the hills which divided the plain from El Homra was,

roughly, ten miles, and when at last they mounted, at about ten o'clock,

on to the high ground, Daniel was already feeling the strain. For the

next couple of miles Muriel limped along by his side; and now their

practical immunity from capture permitted them to take an occasional

rest in the shade of the rocks.

The last three miles of the journey were very exhausting to them both,

for it was now noon, and the sun was intensely hot. Their water-bottles

were nearly empty and their provisions were all gone; but the sight of

the Oasis in the distance served to keep up their courage.

Muriel, much against her inclinations, had now to be carried almost

continuously, but Daniel would not listen to her repeated requests that

he would leave her while he went on to fetch help. He still feared a

possible pursuit, for even so near to their goal they were travelling

through uninhabited and utterly isolated country. He set his teeth,

therefore, and carried her forward, now on this shoulder, now on that,

now upon his back, and now, as originally, in his arms. He was aching

from head to toe, and his feet felt like burning coals of fire, while

the perspiration issued from every pore.

"Gee!" he said, as he set her down a mile from their destination, "this

has been some walk!"

He took her in his arms again, and set out upon the last lap. The

buildings of the police headquarters were now clearly visible against

the palms, and near them stood the tents which told them that the

Bindanes had returned from the north.

Muriel looked up at his haggard face. "I'm ashamed of myself for being

so feeble," she said. "It is very humiliating for me to have to be

carried by _you_, of all people."

For answer he suddenly bent her head down and kissed her.

Muriel uttered an exclamation. "Put me down!" she cried. "How dare you!"

Again he kissed her, holding her up in his arms as her legs kicked at

his hip. She freed her hand and pressed it into his face.

"If you do that," he laughed, "I'll drop you."

"How dare you!" she repeated. "Oh, you brute!"

He threw his head back, and looked up at the sun from under the brim of

his battered old hat. "It's been an extraordinary fortnight," he panted,

as though he were addressing the heavens.

Muriel did not answer, but she was breathing hard as he looked down into

her face once more, and her eyes were wide with anger.

"I've learned a lot about you," he said, "during these days; and I guess

you're worth winning, after all."

"In that case," she replied furiously, "I guess you'll be sorry that

you've lost me."

"Have I lost you, Muriel?" he asked.

"You have," she replied, shortly and decisively. "What else did you

expect, after the way you have insulted and bullied me? You've lost me

for ever."

The intensity with which she spoke silenced him; and thus they came

stumbling into the camp.

Burning Sands · 第 30 / 33 章