It now became necessary to join the sentinel at all hazards, and
ascertain what was going on in that direction. The six men, at an
order from M. Périères, formed up in close order, ready to charge the
Bedouins if any attempt were made to bar their passage. But the
report which had so unexpectedly resounded from the entrance to the
defile resulted in a modification of the bellicose ideas of the
Nomads, and in delaying their attack. The sharp, ringing crack of the
rifle did not seem to them at all like the sound produced by their
accustomed arms. They concluded, therefore, that succour was at hand
for the Europeans from the direction of the mountain, and instead of
presenting a bold front and making any resistance, they precipitately
opened out and let the band of horsemen through their midst. The
latter were not slow to make use of their advantage, and a few
moments saw them at the end of the mountain spur.
As soon as they reached the head of the defile the sentinel met them
and made his report. He had not been on his post a quarter of an
hour, when five Bedouins, on foot, and dragging along with them a
prisoner whom he was not able to recognize, left the camp and
advanced towards him. In obedience to his orders, he at once fired,
and then took refuge behind a rock.
"Take your place in the ranks," said M. Périères, at the same time
giving the word, "Forward!"
The defile, in which the little troop found themselves, was a narrow,
tortuous, uneven pass of no great length. It did not form part of the
mountain range, but was a gorge debouching abruptly on to a plain. As
soon as they were fairly in it they saw the five Nomads running as
hard as they could towards another spur of the mountain, and, without
hesitation, they set off in pursuit and speedily came up with the
Bedouins.
The latter took to flight at once on seeing that they were pursued,
firing a few random and harmless shots as they went, and, lest their
movements should be retarded, they abandoned their prisoner. The
unfortunate captive, with his hands tied behind his back, was lying
flat on his face, with his head half buried in the sand. His rescuers
hastened to raise him on his feet, and recognized Mohammed-Abd-el-Gazal,
pale as death, his features convulsed with fear, his eyes
haggard, his hair, beard, and eyebrows smothered in sand, his bûrnus
gone, in his shirt-sleeves, and altogether in the most pitiable
plight.
They cut his bonds, made him sit down, wiped the sand from off his
face, poured down his throat a few drops of brandy, slapped his
hands, murmured comforting words in his ears, and, in a word, did all
they could to revive his spirits and reassure him as to his fate.
In spite of all their attentions, it was fully five minutes before he
had recovered sufficiently to be able to see and speak to his
fellow-countrymen, and even then he was so bewildered that he could only
stammer out that he knew nothing of M. de Morin, about whose fate
every one was anxiously enquiring.
"But surely," asked M. Périères, "you have seen him. He overtook you,
did he not?"
"Oh, yes," stuttered Joseph, "he overtook me—perhaps it would have
been better for me if he had not, but he did."
"What did he do? What happened?" asked everybody in the same breath.
"What happened? I know nothing more."
"Come, collect your thoughts," said M. Périères. "You are no longer a
prisoner, we have rescued you."
"You have rescued me," repeated Joseph, still in a state of complete
bewilderment, "but they will recapture me. The monsters! the
monsters! What a terrible time I have had with them! And I told them
that they might keep my portmanteau. I did not want it any more. Keep
all my baggage if you like, I said. I will give you a receipt—
anything to please you. They did not listen to me, and the camel kept
on always—kept on—kept on—I fell to the right—I fell to the left—I
fell at full length—I fell—good heavens, what a night! Sometimes I
thought I was on board the steamer again, and that I was sick—so
sick! I had been told that a camel sometimes gives one that
sensation—but I would not believe it—and I did so admire the beasts—
but, I hate them—yes, I hate them!"
M. Périères thought it was high time to interrupt him, so, putting
his hand on his shoulder, he said—
"If you do not stop those _jeremiads_ at once, if you do not stand on
your feet like a man, and if you do not answer my questions, and
nothing but my questions, I will bring up one of those camels you are
so fond of, and will have you strapped on its back."
This threat had the desired effect. Joseph-Mohammed recovered
himself, and awaited his cross-examination.
"At what hour," said M. Delange, "did you see M. de Morin?"
"I do not know what o'clock it was," answered Joseph, "but it had
been dark for a long time, and my camel would go on—on—on—"
"To the devil with your camel! We have told you to stop that
nonsense. What happened when your master arrived?"
"We went faster than ever. The Bedouins heard somebody behind them,
and hoped to escape being overtaken. But I distinctly heard the tread
of a horse, and I heard M. de Morin call out—'halt, or I fire.' But
they did not halt. Then a shot was fired—and then there was some
shouting, and more shots—and then the voice of my master again could
be heard above the din—and, at last, all was quiet. But my camel
would go on—on—on, and I fancied I was alone on his back. The
wretched Bedouin had got off. The rest of the caravan were not
following us. I got hold of the bridle with both my hands, and tried
to stop the camel. I did not think of anything but that. At last, I
succeeded, and encouraged by my success, I was about to try to undo
the cord round my waist, which tied me to my baggage, when I heard
fresh shouts—and that brute of an Arab overtook me—"
Joseph was going on with his tale, but M. Périères stopped him once
more.
"We have allowed you to ramble on in your own way, because we hoped
to learn, amongst all this verbiage, something about our friend. What
has become of him? Has he been killed by these men? Answer."
"I know nothing—I know nothing at all. My Bedouin got up behind me
once more, muttering something that I did not then understand, but I
soon understood that he intended to beat me; beating—"
"Enough," said M. Delange.
"Oh, yes, quite enough!" repeated Joseph, naïvely.
"What happened afterwards? Did the other Bedouins rejoin you?"
"No, we went on alone."
"Nobody followed you?"
"Nobody; the others remained behind."
"And where were you taken?"
"To a sort of camp, where everybody ran out to look at me. The women
were especially inquisitive. Some of them passed their hands over my
hair, and my whiskers—they thought the whiskers very funny. But my
Bedouin drove them away, and made me get off the camel. I had no
objection to do that, I assure you. Then he ordered me to walk on
before him, and he pushed me into a tent, after having robbed me of
my bûrnus. Bruised and sore, I fell asleep. In about an hour they
seized on me again, and dragged me, on foot this time, which, at all
events, was an improvement. Then I heard shouts and a shot or two. I
was hit over the back with the butt-end of a gun, and fell down where
you found me."
"And you cannot tell us anything about M. de Morin?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"Then, my men," exclaimed M. Périères, turning to his escort, "we
must go back to the camp and renew our search."
"You are never going to leave me here?" cried Mohammed the miserable.
"No, walk in the middle. We shall be obliged to go at a walk, for the
horses cannot gallop down this defile."
The little band went cautiously along the narrow gorge, for they
feared they might be attacked there. Nothing, in fact, would have
been easier than for the Bedouins to have concealed themselves behind
the rocks and hillocks of sand, and to have picked off, one by one,
each individual horseman. But the Nomads were ignorant of the number
of the enemy, and cautiously awaited their approach. As soon,
however, as they saw that only two additions, the sentinel and the
rescued captive, had been made to the troop, they resumed the
defensive at once.
During the hour that had passed they had had time to collect their
horses and camels, to saddle them, to gather together all their armed
men, and so to form a compact body, which, if not very numerous, was
still sufficiently formidable.