CHAPTER XXV.

A solitary Bedouin joined the expedition which set out in search of the Europeans. This was Abou-Zamil, the man whose horse M. de Morin had so unceremoniously appropriated. Anxious to regain his steed; attracted, on the one hand, by the arguments and brilliant inducements held out by the interpreter, Ali; dismayed, on the other, by the threats of the Consul, who seemed disposed to hold him responsible for the abduction of Joseph, the Bedouin, after a period of hesitation, ended by offering his services to the expedition. They were provisionally accepted; but he was not armed, like the men composing the escort, with pistol, gun, and axe.

The troop of horsemen dashed through Djiddah at full gallop, and took the road along which, but a few hours previously, the young painter, his interpreter, and his servant had passed.

Ali rode at their head and showed them the way. When they reached the ruins of the mill, whence M. de Morin had started off in sole pursuit of his five Bedouins, they stopped to consult. But no deliberation was necessary, for along the sand they could easily discern the tracks left by the camels, and, parallel with them, the fainter hoof-marks of Abou-Zamil's horse.

This trail the whole troop followed for five or six leagues, but the sun, gradually taking leave of the plain over which they had been riding for the last two hours, was slowly sinking behind the mountains of El-Hejaz, which bounded the horizon.

A few moments more and the track would no longer be visible. They determined to profit to the utmost by the sun's last rays, and the horses, urged on by their riders, increased their pace, and soon placed another dozen miles behind them.

By this time the sun had just given place to the stars, whose light, brilliant as it was, did not suffice to light up the track. Another halt was therefore made, and a fresh consultation held.

Should they trust to fortune and ride on at hap-hazard? Or would it be better to trust themselves to Abou-Zamil, who undertook to act as guide and bring the travellers to the precise spot where he imagined his friends would have stopped?

This question gave rise to some consideration, for the Bedouin seemed to be an object of suspicion to everybody except Ali and Omar—the two interpreters—who maintained that, up to a certain point, he might be trusted.

Their opinion prevailed; but M. Périères thought it prudent to take Abou-Zamil aside and address the following little speech to him, which was simultaneously translated by one of the interpreters.

"We are about to entrust to you not only our own safety, but that of our friends, whom we are endeavouring to find, and we shall follow your lead throughout the night without any question or remonstrance whatever. If, by to-morrow morning, no accident shall have happened to us, and if we have regained our companions, I give you my word as a Frenchman, and it is worth all your oaths taken on the Koran, that on our return to Djiddah, I will give you the value of three magnificent camels, as well as a gun, which will make you king of the desert. But if you play us false and lead us out of our proper course, if our friends are killed, we will tie you to the nearest tree and shoot you, as they shoot traitors in our country. It is for you to choose."

The eyes of Abou-Zamil sparkled with joy when he heard mention of the camels and the gun, nor did he cower at the threat of being shot, for he looked upon that as a good sign. Nevertheless, he made one reservation—

"I promise," said he, "not to betray you, and I undertake to put you in the right road, but I cannot engage that you will find your companions alive. I know nothing of what has passed for some hours, or is passing, perhaps, at this moment. God alone knows that."

M. Périères was compelled to admit that there was a certain amount of logic in the argument.

"We are not unjust," he replied. "If it can be proved to us that you have done all in your power to prevent any hindrance or disaster, we shall be satisfied, and you shall have your promised reward."

"Good," said Abou-Zamil. "Trust to me."

This question settled, a halt was ordered, for the horses, called upon for a long journey, had need of rest.

Omar and Ali, like provident servants, had taken care, when they set out, to place a supply of provisions in the large saddle-bags which they carried, and now they proceeded to distribute to all a portion of the welcome viands. As for the horses, they were turned loose and had to make the most of such tufts of grass as they could find half buried in the sand.

In the evening "boot and saddle" was once more the order. The sky was literally studded with stars, but the moon had not yet appeared.

Abou-Zamil took the lead. Suddenly he gave a shrill, prolonged whistle, familiar to the horses of El-Hejaz, and, at this signal, these splendid animals pricked up their ears, stretched out their necks, and bounded off at full speed. Several of the riders, unprepared for this sudden start, were within an ace of losing their seats, and they certainly would have lost them if they had been sitting on English saddles. But the Arab saddle is so high peaked, both before and behind, that the rider is almost, so to speak, partitioned in; his feet are placed in large stirrups, and a fall, if not impossible, is at all events difficult. Moreover, the paces of the Arab horses have nothing jerky about them, but are as smooth and regular as possible. Their gallop is more conducive to sleep than to excitement, and it is no uncommon sight to see an Arab tie his bridle to the pommel of his saddle, set his horse going, and, so long as he knows the road to be even, sleep as calmly as if he were under his tent.

At this sweeping stride, which, though so smooth, is also productive of dizziness, they continued on and on for some hours. Every now and then MM. Périères and Delange, found their breath failing them from bending down in their saddles and receiving the wind in their faces; but, at the same time, they frequently experienced a sort of exhilaration on meeting the air; their lungs dilated, and their brows, still heated from the effects of the hot sun during the day, felt refreshed and comforted. They were under the influence of the intoxication of the desert, that feeling of elation experienced by those who know what it is to ride on and on, no obstacle in their way, no road to follow, no defined goal to reach, with nothing to limit their far-reaching gaze, in absolute silence and boundless space, between heaven and earth.

But as this feeling of elation subsided, as their mind resumed its habitual tone, they began to wonder how it was that the speed of their horses did not slacken, how it was that these creatures did not fall down, worn out with fatigue. They had heard or read that certain breeds of Arab horses were capable of doing their fifty or sixty leagues without drawing rein, but they had not put much faith in such tales. They saw now that these thoroughbreds, whose pedigree has been handed down from century to century amongst the tribes, were capable of any exploit. They confessed, too, that the French Consul had not deceived them when he said that the horses of El-Hejaz were amongst the most perfect of Arabia.

The first faint glimmer of dawn appeared in the East, and still these steeds, prodigies in their way, held on their rapid course. At length Abou-Zamil showed signs of slackening the pace; he ceased to give the shrill, prolonged whistle with which he roused the horses to fresh exertions, the only sound that, from time to time, had broken the awful silence of the desert.

A few moments more, and, at a sign from the Bedouin, the whole troop came to a dead stop. With one bound he sprang off his horse, stooped down, and, by the faint light of dawn, examined the ground about where he stood with great care. After a short scrutiny he stood up, and, turning to Ali, who was nearest to him, said—

"Look here."

And he showed him in the sand the footprints of five camels and a horse.

M. Périères and M. Delange hurried to the spot, and in their delight expressed themselves in the warmest manner towards the Bedouin.

"And what are we to do now?" they asked.

"That is your affair," replied Abou-Zamil. "I have fulfilled my engagement, and, thanks to me, you have overtaken the persons whom you have been pursuing."

"They are, then, near here?" asked the interpreters.

"They are over there," replied the Bedouin, pointing to the spot, "and as soon as the sun appears you will see their encampment."

"Consequently," said M. Delange, gleefully, "we are on the point of regaining our friend."

"I know nothing about that," was the Arab's reply.

"Did you not show us the hoof-prints of his horse in the sand? At all events he must have come thus far."

"A loose horse in the desert," answered Abou-Zamil, gravely, "leaves the same traces as one with a rider on his back."

The joy which the two young men had at first experienced received a sudden check. Their brows were knit, and their eyes, following the direction pointed out by the guide, anxiously endeavoured to fathom the secrets of the Arab camp.