“Is there danger, then? Doth this man bear me malice for nought?”
“Know, O Roumi,” he said solemnly, “thou art indeed in grave peril. I should not tell thee, only the man who addressed me in the courtyard of the House of Allah made an infamous proposition to me, and afterwards I discovered that he was called Labakan, of the tribe of the Ennitra, and one of the most renowned cut-throats of Hadj Absalam, the Terror of the Desert.”
“The Ennitra?” I cried. “And he is following me?”
The Arab slowly nodded, rolling his cigarette thoughtfully. “What villainous proposal did he make to thee?” I demanded quickly.
“He offered me a bag of gold to assist in thy murder,” my companion replied hesitatingly.
“And thou hast refused — eh?”
“Though we of the Kel-Ahamellen may thieve and plunder, we do not stain our hands with blood,” he said proudly. “The men under the green banner of Hadj Absalam have times without number attacked, murdered, and robbed us, carrying off our women to their harems, and selling our children into slavery beyond Lake Tsâd. This man called Labakan, son of Omar, who invited me to help him in his foul plot against thee, is the same who has acted as leader on many of those murderous expeditions.”
“But why should he be so desirous of killing me?” I asked. “He explained that thou hadst on one occasion escaped from them after being taken prisoner, and that, hidden in thy saddle-bag thou hast a treasure of enormous value.”
“Treasure? I have no treasure,” I said. “A man doth not carry his wealth with him when passing through the land of his enemies.”
“Labakan said the treasure was neither gold, silver, nor precious stones, but that thou hadst in thy possession something which belonged to their tribe, and which they had solemnly sworn to regain, even though the attempt might cost the lives of those who followed thee. In further speech he told me that Hadj Absalam — the despot who ruleth his people with a rod of iron, and whom may the Merciful doom to all the horrors of Hâwiyat — had ordered him to follow thee to the ends of the earth to regain the lost treasure. If he succeeds, he is to obtain as a reward the most beautiful houri of the Desert Pirate’s harem, but if he doth not accomplish his mission successfully within twelve moons, his head will fall under the sword of the executioner.”
“Did he tell thee of what this valuable treasure consists?”
“No. He only said that if lost to his people it could never be replaced.”
“And dost thou really think that this villain actually meaneth to obtain by foul means the contents of my saddle-bags?” I asked, feeling somewhat uncomfortable at this startling revelation.
“Alas! I do. Of this, the most unscrupulous caitiff of the Ennitra, thou must beware. Take heed of thine own safety when we part. Never relax thy vigilance while in the land of Al-Islâm, and may the Merciful One guard thee in thy perilous journey to Agadez.”
“Is this man Labakan alone, or is there a conspiracy to murder me?” I asked.
“I am afraid, from what he hath told me, there is a widespread plot to compass thy death,” he said. “Apparently thou hast incensed them exceedingly by learning some strange secret which they desired should never be divulged. As death closes the mouth, Hadj Absalam hath ordered that thou shalt be slain. Under such circumstances I hardly think it wise that thou shouldst venture alone through the Valley of Aïr.”
“It is imperative,” I answered; “I must not halt until I enter the gates of Agadez. To me also the result of my mission is a matter of life — or death.”
“May thy treasure be preserved unto thee, and may Allah — the One Merciful to whom be boundless praise — give thee strength to overcome all thine enemies. May they be vanquished and be swept from the earth to the burning land of Al Sâhira like grains of sand before the sirocco,” said he earnestly, hitching up his burnouse.
“I tender thee thanks for thy warning, Gajére,” I said. “For thy action thou wilt indeed receive the reward of the One Worthy of Praise, and drink of the waters of Al Cawthar, which are sweeter than honey, whiter than milk, and cooler than the snow.”
“And thou wilt, I hope, believe some day that Allah is the One Lord of the Three Worlds, and that Mohammed is his Prophet,” he murmured devoutly, looking at me with his deep-set eyes.
But I did not answer. I had no intention of entering upon a controversy on religious subjects, but sat pondering deeply over the plot against me, which evidently had for its object the recovery of the Crescent of Glorious Wonders. His suspicions of approaching attack had caused him to arise in the night, and, armed with his keen blade, reconnoitre for the crafty assassin. He was, after all, my friend and protector. How, I wondered, could Hadj Absalam know that the mysterious object was in my possession? Surely Zoraida had not told him? Yet might he not in his rage, after learning of the catastrophe his tribe had sustained by the loss of the Wonderful Crescent, have taken up a scimitar and struck off her hand?
The thought was horrible.
However fearless I might have been of the terrors of the Desert, I could not close my eyes to the fact that this murderous ruffian Labakan was going about offering as payment for my murder a bag of gold, and I knew that ere long an attempt upon my life would most surely be made. Mine was decidedly a most unenviable position, and when at El Biodh two days later, I bade farewell to my faithful friend Gajére, the earnest blessings he invoked upon me aroused within me an additionally apprehensive feeling of insecurity.
This journey I had undertaken because of the passionate love I entertained for Zoraida, but I could not forget the grave prophecy of old Ali Ben Hafiz, when the Omen of the Camel’s Hoof had been revealed. Had he not told me that it was always fatal to love, and in the majority of instances fatal to the lover?
Yet thoughts of Zoraida trusting in me gave me renewed courage, and I resolved to push onward to the south with a stout heart, and endeavour to gain the mysterious knowledge that was necessary to bring to us both the peace, happiness, and riches of this world.
Chapter Twenty Two
Mákita’s Enemies
Though I sought the advice of the cadi of the strange old Arab town of El Biodh, and also explained my desire to several of the Sheikhs whom I met, I could hear of no one going in my direction. To set out into the naked Desert alone would, I knew, be a most foolish proceeding, therefore I could do nothing but wait until, through the good offices of a man to whom Gajére introduced me before his departure, I obtained permission to accompany a caravan of the tribe Kel-Imanan, whose chief town is Djanet, about two hundred miles on my route, and one morning, after I had remained as the guest of the friendly Arab for a week, I once more found myself on the back of a camel, and from my elevated seat cast a last glance over the pleasant picture presented by the oasis.
(The word “Kel” denotes the habitual residents of a Saharan district.)
Our caravan, headed by the Sheikh Mákita, numbered about ninety souls, and СКАЧАТЬ