Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > In the Mahdi's Grasp > This page
In the Mahdi's Grasp, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 32. "Burning" |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. "BURNING" The wandering tribes of the desert, who exist by their sword and spear, live the life of the wild beast of prey whose eyes are ever on the look out for the furtive blow or stroke that shall lay them low. Their swords are ever ready; their spears are constantly in hand; while as an additional safeguard the majority of them carry a dagger bound to the left wrist. Danger is to them always lurking and tracking their steps as closely as their shadow. It is the shadow of their existence, so that a warning cry, the wave of sword or spear by a flying man, is taken as an alarm at once; and hence it was that the dash into their midst of two mounted men, one of whom they knew as the son of a friendly Emir, and the sight of the pursuers was enough. Before the flying horses were checked, a score of mounted spearmen were to the front to screen them, and in answer to a warning cry a couple of score more were untethering their horses; others were mounting, and a stream of foot, spear and shield armed, came running out of the houses, huts, and tents which surrounded the court. And now a slave went running up to a door in front, leading a splendid white horse, just in time for the Emir, his master, one whom Frank had only seen at a distance. He stepped out, sprang on his horse, drew his sword, and uttering a hoarse shout to his followers, rode with flashing eyes to their head. There was no pause for parleying; an enemy had invaded his place; his men were gathering round him, eager for the fray; and as the young Emir rode up to his side the dervishes came dashing up to range themselves by their leader, and in another minute the fight would have begun had the newly arrived strangers displayed the same daring in face of the Emir's rapidly increasing force that they had in pursuit of two fugitives. As it was, Frank sat upon his panting horse watching while a couple of the dervish party rode forward to temporise, and as far as he could make out by their gestures one of the two explained that they were peaceably riding through the city, strangers though they were, when they were attacked by the young Emir and his followers. At this the young chief to whom he pointed burst into a mocking laugh of disdain, and it seemed to Frank that as he turned to the Emir in whose court he had taken sanctuary with his companion, that he pointed to the young Englishman and then to himself, holding up two fingers, and then making gesture after gesture as if counting, but giving it up at the end of ten, and holding up his ten fingers over and over again, the Emir's men bursting into a scornful laugh, which seemed to be the echo of the young chief's mirth. There was a low, muttering growl amongst the strange dervishes at this, and their leader said something to which Frank's companion replied by riding up to them, sword in hand, and mockingly pointing with it at the various articles of plunder hung from the bows and cantrils of their saddles, and once again there was a roar of laughter from the Emir's men. Their leader held up his hand for silence, and then turned to the dervish leader as if asking him haughtily a question with the very gesture and air of a schoolboy at home; and exciting though the scene was, and doubtful whether the next minute the court would not be full of cutting, slashing, and stabbing combatants, it appeared to the looker-on just like old times when a school-fellow asked another whether he wanted to fight or no. It was something common to human nature, no doubt, for the dervish chief followed suit on the same old plan, and seemed to growl out sullenly that he did not want to fight, but he could. The response to this needed no thought or striving to comprehend, for the Emir waved his sword scornfully towards the entrance and half turned his back, while the strangers began to move off slowly and sulkily, amidst the mocking laughter of his men. But Frank saw no more as he sat upon his horse, which had begun to fidget about and suddenly turned to inflict a playful bite at its companion's mane, making the latter retaliate, when Frank's mount swung half round, reared a little, and began to fence and paw at the other. The young Emir said something, but even if Frank could have comprehended his companion's words he would not have heard, for a strange feeling of giddiness had attacked him, there was a singing in his ears, and his heart beat with slow, heavy throbs which seemed to send the blood gushing up in painful floods to his throat, as he felt that at any moment he might fall from his horse. Over exertion? The reaction after the excitement of the pursuit? The hot fit of wild desire to kill the savage enemies who sought his life, causing him to sink back into a state of feebleness that was extreme? Nothing of the kind. It was the emotion caused by a strange doubt of his sanity, for at that critical minute his horse's movements had brought him facing the door from which the Emir had hurriedly rushed out directly after the alarm was given. It was by the merest accident that he turned his eyes in that direction, and when he did it was to notice a camel that had been led out from a side building since the chief came upon the scene, and it struck the young Englishman that it was one of the most attractive of the curious animals that he had seen. It was of a rich creamy tint and free from the ragged aspect so common among its kind, long and clean-limbed, muscular, and looking as if it possessed great speed, while its saddle and trappings, which were of crimson leather, ornamented with gold and silken fringe, indicated that it was the property of some man of rank, in all probability the Emir himself, and brought out ready for him in case he should choose to ride it in place of the horse. The excitement was over, and a peculiar feeling of inertia had come over Frank. He was wearied by what he had gone through, and the self-imposed task of playing his dumb part troubled him. All he cared for now was to get back to his quarters in the Emir's palace, to rest and think. He had come out in the faint hope of passing through some new part of the city with the friend whose companionship he seemed forced to bear; and he had not been disappointed in this, for many of the streets he had traversed were quite fresh to him; but he said to himself bitterly that he might just as well have passed the time in the comparatively cool, shaded garden where their camels browsed, for he was no nearer to the object of his quest than before. "How long is this weary, unhappy quest to last?" he thought, and then with a faint smile he pondered upon the wild thought that had come upon him when he believed that they were about to charge the dervishes, and a strange, fierce determination had come to him that he would strike one blow for his brother's sake, as he wondered whether he would ever know of his quest. "And I'm not to be buried under the hot sand here yet," he said, as his eyes wandered over the proportions of the camel, which struck him as one thoroughly adapted for flight across the desert. "Just such a one as I should like to see Harry mounted upon, and all of us making for the north, or for the English advanced posts." It was then that the strange attack came on, dulling his faculties and making him ask himself whether he was sane or dreaming. For as he thought of his brother, the heat of the sun seemed to strike down upon his head, bringing on a sudden attack of that form of apoplexy known as sunstroke, and in it he saw his brother step slowly forward holding the camel's rein and changing from one side of the animal to the other, acting the while as a groom would with a favourite steed that he had brought out for his master's use, patting and smoothing its coat, examining girth, buckle, and band, and arranging and rearranging the fine material which covered the saddle, before at last standing upright leaning his head back against the camel, gazing from a few yards away full in Frank's eyes. A vision--a waking vision, consequent upon the attack from which he suffered! There he was, Harry, the brother he loved, upright and military of carriage as ever, but so changed. Thin and wasted, his eyes sunken and full of a deep, weary, sorrowful longing, arms bare to the shoulder, legs naked to mid-thigh, and all burned of a dull brick-red by the torrid African sun, and the high forehead deeply marked by the lines of suffering and care. It was Harry as he had pictured him night after night when he had lain awake thinking of the time when they would meet; clothed, too, just the same as any other camel driver, with thin cotton garments tightened diagonally across the body, and about the thighs, looking more like bandages than ordinary clothes, confined by another broad band about the waist. Yes: just as he had so often pictured what he must be like, even to the changes wrought by suffering and age. But not Harry, for his brother would surely have known him at a glance, as he leaned back against his camel looking him full in the face, and have acted as he had been about to do, till the bitter feeling came home to him that this was all a waking dream brought on by exertion and excitement, and he felt that if he gazed long and fixedly the imaginary picture would fade, leaving only the ordinary slave camel driver of the desert looking in his direction. But the change did not come, and they gazed one at the other still, Frank waiting impatiently for the imaginary resemblance to die out. "So like him," he thought; "but he would have rushed to my arms as I was about to rush to his at all hazards, thinking of nothing but our meeting out here in this savage place. I am wild and dreaming from what I have gone through to-day, but he is cool and calm as he stands there. Yes: he would have known me at once." A shiver of misery ran through the thinker at that moment, as he grasped the truth. For how should his brother know him? He was a mere youth when they parted at Southampton, when he saw him last upon the troop-ship--a boy who had just finished school--and what was Harry looking at now? The companion of a Baggara Emir, a black slave, dressed in white, armed with sword and dagger, and mounted upon a splendid Arab horse. One of the pair who had been pursued by the wild dervish band which was committing so many fresh excesses in the city, and looking no better in his wild costume, and grasping a keen-edged sword, than one of them. Another giddy sensation came over Frank Frere, and he gasped for breath, as with his left hand he snatched at his horse's mane and so accidentally jerked the rein that the horse reared and he nearly fell. The demand upon him for action, though, sent a shock through his nerves, and gripping his saddle firmly he sat erect and patted and calmed down his startled mount, the young Emir pressing up to him and nodding and smiling as much as to say, "Well done! you ride like a Baggara." Frank was himself again, and as soon as he could rein back a little, for his comrade had come between him and the vision, he looked wildly once more at the spot where he had seen, or believed he had seen, his brother; but the camel had been led away, and its attendant was no longer there. Was it imagination, or was it not? He felt sick with emotion, and he could hardly restrain himself from leaping off his horse to go in search of leader and camel that he might speak and learn the truth at once; but at that moment the young Emir grasped him by the arm, their horses sidled up together, and he was no longer his own master, yielding at once to the touch and being led away out of the open court, while when he wrenched himself round in the saddle to get one wildly eager look back his view was cut off by a party of some thirty horsemen whose spears glittered in the late afternoon sun as they followed close behind. For the young Emir had been furnished with a bodyguard by his friend, and though Frank turned again and again there was not another chance. They rode on for a few hundred yards with the young Emir talking loudly and volubly, his theme evidently being their adventures, and quite content with a nod from time to time. For he was in high glee at his success, and the looks, smiles, and pats on the shoulder he gave to his companion from time to time plainly told he was proud of his gallantry that day. Then in an instant all was excitement again, for at a turn they came once more in sight of a party of the dervishes, evidently those they had met before, and all ready to encounter them with scowling looks. It showed the necessity for the escort, and the young Emir laughed, for no attempt to hinder them was made; but the party followed slowly as if to see where they went, and when at last the escort was dismissed and the two young men rode through the gates, received by their own guards, the dervishes were still in sight; but they at once turned and rode away, for the escort was advancing upon them and seemed as if it drove them back the way they came. _ |
||