P. C. Wren - The Collected Works of P. C. Wren - Complete Beau Geste Series, Novels & Short Stories

"I did not even listen to the tempter," I replied promptly. "But I'm feeling horribly worried and frightened and anxious about you. . . ."

"Business down yonder urgent, Major?" she asked.

"Very."

"And your chief's trusting you to put it through quick, neat and clean?"

"Yes."

"Then defy the devil and all his works, Major," she said, "and don't let my welfare interfere with yours. . . ."

"I shan't, Miss Vanbrugh," I replied. "But if we could only meet a caravan . . ."

"Nonsense! You don't play Joseph's Brethren with me , Major."

"How can I take you into the power of a man who, for all I know, may be a devil incarnate. . . . I should do better to shoot you myself. . . ."

"I was going to say, 'Make a camp near the oasis and ride in alone,' but I shan't let you do that, Major."

"It is what I had thought of--but a man like this Emir would know all about us and our movements, long before we were near his territory. . . . And what happens to you, if I am made a prisoner or killed? Dufour would not go without me--nor would Achmet and Djikki for that matter."

"You are going to carry on, just as if I were not here, my friend," she said, "and I'm coming right there with you--to share and share alike. I can always shoot myself when I'm bored with things. . . . So can Maudie. She's got a little gun all right . . . I wouldn't be a drag on you, Major, for anything in the world . . . Duty before pleasure--of course. . . ."

And as she said those words, and rubbed her shoulder nestlingly against mine, I took her other hand . . . I drew her towards me . . . I nearly kissed her smiling lips . . . when she snatched her hand away, and, springing up, pointed in excitement towards the oasis.

"What is it?" I cried in some alarm, for my nerves were frayed with sleeplessness.

"I thought I saw a kind of winged elephant cavorting above the trees. You know--like a flying shrimp or whistling water-rat of the upper air, Major Ivan. . . ."

And as I raged, she laughed and sang that cursed air again, with words this time--and the words were:

"There are heroes in plenty, and well known to fame

In the ranks that are led by the Czar;

But among the most reckless of name or of fame

Was Ivan Petruski Skivah. He could imitate Irving, play euchre, or pool, And perform on the Spanish guitar:-- In fact, quite the cream of the Muscovite team Was Ivan Petruski Skivah."

Damn the girl, she had been laughing at me the whole time!

I gave the order to saddle up and did a double march, on towards the south of the rising sun--when it did rise--to punish her for her impertinence and to remind her that she was only with me on sufferance. . . . She should see who was the one to laugh last in my caravan. . . .

And, mon Dieu ! What a fool de Lannec was!

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One or two days later, as we jogged along in the "cool" of the evening, Dufour, the trusty rear-guard of my little caravan, rode up to me.

"We're followed, sir," said he. "Touareg, I think. I have sent Djikki back to scout."

"If they're Touareg they'll surround our next camp and rush us suddenly," I said. "Our night-travelling has upset them, as there has been no chance for the surprise-at-dawn that they're so fond of."

"They'll follow us all night and attack when they think we are busy making camp to-morrow morning," said Dufour.

"We'll try to shake them off by zigzagging and circling," I replied. "If it weren't for the women, it would be amusing to ride right round behind them and attack. . . . They may be only a small gang and not a harka ."

Mary Vanbrugh closed up. I had been riding ahead in haughty displeasure, until Dufour came to me.

I had done with Mary Vanbrugh. "What is it, Major?" she asked.

"Nothing, Miss Vanbrugh," I replied.

"What men-folk usually wag their heads and their tongues about," she agreed.

Maudie's bassourab -adorned camel overtook us as we dropped into a walk and then halted.

"What is it, Mr. Dufour?" I heard her ask.

" Sheikhs! " replied Dufour maliciously, and I wondered if his face had also been slapped.

I looked at Maudie. Methought she beamed joyously.

Half an hour later, Djikki of the wonderful eyesight came riding up at top-speed.

"Veiled Touareg," he said. "The Forgotten of God. About five hands of fingers. Like the crescent moon--" from which I knew that we were being followed by about five and twenty Touareg, and that they were riding in a curved line--the horns of which would encircle us at the right time.

There was nothing for it but to ride on. We were five rifles--six counting Mary Vanbrugh--and shooting from behind our camels we should give a good account of ourselves against mounted men advancing over open country.

Nor would so small a gang resolutely push home an attack upon so straight-shooting and determined a band as ourselves.

But what if they managed to kill our camels?

"Ride after Suleiman as fast as you can, Miss Vanbrugh, with Maudie. Achmet will ride behind you," said I. "You and I and Djikki will do rear-guard, Dufour. . . ."

"Don't be alarmed if you hear firing," I added to the girls.

"Oh, Major, I shall jibber with fright, and look foolish in the face," drawled Mary Vanbrugh, and I was under the impression that Maudie's lips parted to breathe the word " Sheikhs! "

We rode in this order for an hour, and I then left Djikki on a sand-dune, with orders to watch while the light lasted. I thought he would get our pursuers silhouetted against the sunset and see if their numbers had increased, their formation or direction changed, and judge whether their pace had quickened or slackened.

"As soon as it is dark, we'll turn sharp-right, for a couple of hours, and then left again," I said to Dufour.

"Yes, sir," said he. "They won't be able to follow tracks in the dark. Not above a walking pace."

He had hardly spoken when a rifle cracked. . . . Again twice. . . . Aimed from us, by the sound. . . . Djikki! . . . We wheeled round together and rode back along our tracks. We passed Djikki's barraked camel and saw the Soudanese lying behind the crest of a sand-hill. He stood up and came down to us.

"Three," he said. "Swift scouts in advance of the rest. I hit one man and one camel. The others fled. Four hundred metres."

For a Soudanese it was very fine marksmanship.

"It'll show them we're awake, anyhow," said Dufour; and we rode off quickly, to overtake the others.

As soon as it was as dark as it ever is in the star-lit desert, I took the lead, and turned sharply from our line as we were riding over a rocky stony patch that would show no prints of the soft feet of camels.

For an hour or two I followed the line, and then turned sharply to the left, parallel with our original track.

Thereafter I dropped to the rear, leaving Dufour to lead. I preferred to rely upon his acquired scientific skill rather than upon Suleiman's desert sense of direction, when I left the head of the caravan at night. Dropping back, I halted until I could only just see the outline of the last rider, Achmet, sometimes as a blur of white in the star-shine, sometimes as a silhouette against the blue-black starry sky. . . .

Vast, vast emptiness. . . . Universes beyond universes. . . . Rhythmic fall of soft feet on sand. . . . Rhythmic swaying of the great camel's warm body. . . . World swaying. . . . Stars swaying. . . .

I will not falsely accuse myself of having fallen asleep, for I do not believe I slept--though I have done such a thing on the back of a camel. But I was certainly slightly hypnotized by star-staring and the perfect rhythm of my camel's tireless changeless trot. . . . And I had been very short of sleep for weeks. . . . Perhaps I did sleep for a few seconds? . . .