"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.
CHAPTER XVIII.
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.