Part 7

It was not long before both camel and rider stood at the door of the guest-tent, and the chief, having tethered the ship of the desert to one of the tent-pegs, invited his guest to enter, and at once set about preparing the coffee according to Arab custom.

The new arrival, whose name was Abd-el-Thullam (the servant of cruelty) was well known to the Arabs for scores of miles round, and a visit from him always meant something unusual and of importance, hence the wonder of the host and his neighbours at the coming of one with so uninviting a name, which was obtained by deeds that gave subject for conversation around many a camp-fire after supper. Speculations as to the coming of this well-known chief were many, and although not audibly expressed filled the minds of all present, and of none more so than the women, who were separated from the menfolk only by the coarse goats’-hair curtain that divided the tent. Little did the host’s only daughter think that she was the cause of this unexpected visitor coming among them, or how much his presence meant to her and others.

Arab etiquette forbids any direct asking of questions or quizzing into the affairs of a guest, so both before and after supper the conversation was upon subjects far away from the one that had brought Abd-el-Thullam into the camp of Sheikh Khaleel, and the simple folk of the wilderness closed their eyes in sleep without having the faintest idea of the object of Abd-el-Thullam’s visit.

With the morning light the camp was astir, both men and women going about their daily callings, each one wondering what the day would reveal. After the matutinal cup of coffee the guest made known the object of his coming, doing so in such forceful and measured language as to impress upon the little company of listeners the fact that his wishes must be complied with.

Condensed into a few words, the rather lengthy speech of the “servant of cruelty” was somewhat as follows: “Sheikh Khaleel, may Allah grant you a long life and build your house (grant you sons to perpetuate your name and family). To the women of my household I desire to add another, for has not our Prophet given us permission to have four wives? Already I have three. Now I have come to ask for your daughter, and am ready to give the price that you may ask for her. As I am to join a raiding party in a few days the matter must be settled at once. May Allah give you patience and wisdom.”

The statement was so unexpected that no one could make reply for a minute or so. At last the silence was broken by Khaleel saying, “The will of Allah be done! What is decreed must come to pass.”

Now, the business of a betrothal and marriage is not usually hurried among Arabs, for much talking is necessary to settle the price of the bride, and time is needed in which to pay the amount agreed upon, and to arrange and comply with the wedding festivities and customs. Hence Sheikh Khaleel and his neighbours were surprised in a two-fold way, first by the boldness of the request, and secondly by the desire to hasten the matter. So, reminding the impatient suitor that “God was with the patient ones,” Khaleel bade him wait a while.

But the man desirous of many wives pressed his claim and asked the price of the girl, again saying that he was ready to give whatever was asked.

All the while Khaleel had been wondering if this was not his chance to make a good bargain, although for two reasons he was loath to part with his daughter, whose name was Lulu (the pearl). Was she not his only daughter--in fact, the only child Allah had spared to him? Moreover, although there had been no formal or public betrothal, he knew well enough that Lulu’s heart and affections had already been won by a young man of his own camp and community. But here was the opportunity to drive a good and hard bargain. And what did it matter, after all? It was only about a girl, who might any day be taken ill and die; also, he might have to get her off at a small return later on if he allowed this chance to slip by.

At last Khaleel spoke, making known the terms on which his daughter could become the fourth wife of the unwelcome guest. They were as follows: a mare, one hundred goats, fifty sheep, and two hundred silver medjidiehs (each worth three and fourpence), all to be paid within three days, with the stipulation that, should Lulu die before the time for taking her to her new home, viz., seven days of feasting, the above payment should become the sole property of Chief Khaleel, her father. In addition to the above the new son-in-law was to give for five successive years one hundred measures of new wheat and fifty of barley.

The terms were received in silence, and anyone glancing at the faces of those assembled could gather that each thought the price high, but all knew that the visiting chief was rich and well able to pay the fee demanded, if he chose to do so.

Nearly the whole day was spent in arguing, persuasion, and calculation, but Sheikh Khaleel was immovable, the more so as he saw a chance of getting his terms.

Finding that talking was of no avail, Abd-el-Thullam finally consented to the terms on condition that, as soon as the purchase price was paid, the seven days of wedding festivities should commence. To this Khaleel gave his consent, and, although the day was far spent, the prospective bridegroom mounted a horse which had been brought for him and rode away, leaving the camel on which he had arrived as an earnest of his return. For three days the camel was tied before the guest-tent, and was only redeemed just in time to save it from being forfeited.

We must now leave the guest-tent and for a time consider some other people who were keenly interested in the happenings just related.

First, a word about Lulu. As already stated, she was the only child of her father, and, such being the case, she was naturally better cared for and more thought of than if there had been rivals in the shape of brothers. Her father spared her in many ways the indignities so commonly imposed upon females in the East, one distinction between her and other girls of the tribe being that her face had not been tattooed.

At the time of our story her age was about fourteen. The bloom of youth on her cheek, with the uprightness of figure so common among Arab girls, made her queenly in appearance in spite of her oft-patched flowing robes.

Among her own kith and kin she reigned supreme, for, having lost her mother soon after her birth, she had claimed the nursing and attention of most of the women in the camp; hence she was ruled by none and spoiled by all.

Some of the youths, too, had paid her attention, and, having grown up side by side with her, were more than mere friends. One, whose name was Abd-Salaam (the servant of peace), had even found it in his heart to love her, which aspiration he knew was not in vain, for on more than one occasion Lulu had assured him that when the time came for her to become a wife none but the “servant of peace” would suffice.

Now it so happened that all that had passed and been settled in the guest-tent between father and visitor was unknown to either Lulu or her lover, for the former had been away all day gathering fuel on the hill-sides in company with another girl, while Abd-Salaam had gone with others to a distant town in charge of some sheep, the day he left the camp being the one on which the wife-seeker arrived.

It is customary among the Arabs for the girl who is to be betrothed not to be consulted as to any likes or dislikes on her part, and she knows nothing about her being traded off to some stranger until informed by having the large outer garment of the suitor thrown around her, and hearing the announcement that she belongs to him.

The surprise of Lulu, therefore, on her return to the camp may be imagined when the scribe of the community approached her and, all unawares, covered her with a large camel-hair _abba_, saying, “The name of God be with thee, O Lulu. None shall have thee but Abd-el-Thullam.”

Surprised as she was, she threw off the cloak and entered the tent, inwardly vowing that none should have her but the constant companion of her girlhood. With the liberty allowed her as the chief’s daughter she went into the guest-tent, and, with hands clenched and determination written on her face, informed her father that her home and lot should not be among strangers, and that the hated “servant of cruelty” should be no husband of hers. In this way warfare was declared, and the probability of trouble in the near future announced.

That night she was sprinkled with sheep’s blood, as a sign that her life belonged to another. Next day she was accompanied by the women to a spring, and, according to custom, thoroughly washed and purified, while on the day following busy fingers worked incessantly making a wedding-robe for the supposed bride. Lulu tolerated all these formalities in silence, but inwardly decided that, do what they would and act as they might, she would never be the bride of the one who was to supplant the choice of long ago.

The afternoon of the third day came round, but no suitor with the price of the bride had appeared, and it looked as though Lulu would be released from her probable marriage, and her father become the possessor of a camel for little trouble. Just an hour before sunset, however, a cloud of dust in the distance told of the coming of flocks, and ere the golden orb disappeared altogether Abd-el-Thullam had handed over what was demanded in return for his prospective bride. The bleating of the sheep and the clinking of the silver pieces only made Lulu vow afresh that no tent of a stranger should shelter her.

The price having been paid in the presence of witnesses, the wedding festivities commenced. The firing of old flint-lock guns was the signal that announced holiday-keeping for a week. Sheep were killed, bread baked in abundance, and coffee-drinking went on continuously. This is a time much appreciated by the dwellers of the wilderness, for then they are able to satisfy the cravings of hunger and for once in a season eat until satisfied.

Whilst the men raced on their horses or fought imaginary battles, the women whiled away the hours in dancing, singing, or sipping coffee between puffs at their long pipes. So the days passed, and the end of the marriage feast approached.

Only Lulu took no part or interest in all that was going on, and as the men or women chanted in turn the virtues, praises, and good fortune of both bride and bridegroom, it all fell like water on a duck’s back so far as the girl-bride was concerned. Inwardly she longed for the return of her boy lover, so that he might in some way intervene to stop the proceedings, and so win her for himself according to their mutual pledge.

But the “servant of peace” did not come, for the demand in the town for sheep was poor, and he had to wait many days ere the flock was disposed of and he free to return to his goats’-hair home. As time and tide wait for no man, neither did the last day of the wedding festivities tarry, and all too soon for the greatly-distressed Lulu the seventh day dawned, and with it no visible escape from what seemed her inevitable fate.

With the constant attention of the women, escape by flight was well-nigh impossible, but before noon a probable way of deliverance presented itself which Lulu was not slow to grasp. A small company of gipsies arrived at the camp, one of whom--an old woman--professed a knowledge of drugs, and verified her statements by producing a small box of mysterious-looking compounds in powder.

The arrival of the party drew away attention from Lulu, but she engaged the attention of the vender of drugs, and elicited from her the fact that among her wares was poison. It was only the work of a few minutes to exchange cash for a mysterious powder, directions for the use of which were imparted to Lulu in an undertone.

As evening drew on preparations were made for the sending away after supper of bride and bridegroom. The camel that was to carry Lulu to her new home was decorated and made ready, and the torches and tom-toms seen to and handed out to those who were to accompany the procession on its way to the camp of Abd-el-Thullam. It seemed that nothing remained to be done save to partake of supper and start.

During the serving of the unusually large meal, which occupied the attention of the women for a time, Lulu slipped out backwards under the rear curtain of the tent and disappeared. Few missed her for a time, for all were busy, but when the call was given, “Bring out the bride and let her husband claim her,” great was the astonishment, for no bride was on hand. One abused the other, and the angry bridegroom accused his host of treachery and would have shot him but for the interference of others, who reminded him again that Allah was with the patient ones.

All denied that the girl was dead, for had they not seen her alive only a short time before? She would return soon, they said, and put an end to the confusion and mystery.

Meanwhile scouts were sent out around the camp, only to return later without tidings of the fugitive. All that night watch was kept, but morning dawned without the mystery being solved, and as the day wore on speculations were indulged in as to whom the purchase price of Lulu belonged, for, although she had now disappeared, she on her part had not done anything within the seven days of the feast to cause her intended master to claim the price paid for her. The sun set again without any light being shed on the disappearance or whereabouts of the girl-bride, and Abd-el-Thullam was furious at being balked of his prey, swearing by every oath available that he would lose neither wife nor purchase price, even if the regaining of one or the other made lifelong enmity between the two tribes.

We must now leave the puzzled company in the guest-tent and see what had become of Lulu. After slipping under the tent-cloth, she commenced to run as fast as her bare feet would permit her. In her excitement and joy at being free she cared little in which direction she fled, and although the night was unusually dark, by reason of heavy storm-clouds, she sped on over hill and valley until thoroughly tired and exhausted. As she rested her weary little frame on the soft herbage of the wilderness the solitude and stillness made her nervous and afraid. Her trepidation was not lessened by a sudden movement near her--made, probably, by a jackal more alarmed than herself.

The fright made her rise quickly and again take to flight, but after running a few hundred yards misfortune overtook her, for, without warning, she tripped and fell headlong into an old unused cistern quite twenty-five feet deep. The fall made her unconscious, and as the pit was far from the camp she was safe for that night, while a tangle of creepers and thorns over the mouth of the cavity made her fairly secure by day.

Here, bruised and unconscious, the poor little bride-to-be lay until daybreak, when, with the rising sun, her senses returned to her. Having considered her surroundings, she decided to secure herself further by creeping into an old tomb hewn in the side of the cistern, where at least she could die in peace rather than be the slave of one utterly distasteful to her. So, with one last fond thought for her absent lover, she swallowed the gipsy’s potion and crawled into the small aperture. Here she soon fell into a stupor, caused partly by weariness, but mainly by the powder bought from the old drug-vender.

But what had become of the boy-lover all these days that he had not returned to the camp and become conversant with all that had happened to his little companion?

As already stated, he was delayed by a slack market; but after some days he was free to return, and, in charge of two camels, he set out for his wilderness home. On the day after Lulu’s escape he was crossing the great plain, happy at the prospect of reaching camp before evening. Being somewhat religiously inclined, he halted at noonday to pray, and soon after remounting was warned to seek shelter from a storm that was announced by a sharp crack of thunder. Looking about him he saw a cavity in the ground wide and high enough to allow his camels to enter. By dint of pulling, coaxing, and beating he forced the beasts in, and at last all three found themselves in the same pit into which Lulu had fallen the night before.

The heavy rain dripping through the opening above made the youth seek better shelter, so he presently crept into the old tomb, and, to his amazement, found that it was already occupied by someone apparently deep in slumber.

Curiosity made him try to rouse the sleeper, but it was of no use. Crawling farther in, it was not long before the amazed camel-boy discovered that the insensible girl was his dearly-loved Lulu. Assuring himself that she was not dead, and, of course, ignorant of the circumstances that had brought her to the cavern, he left her, and, taking the best of the two camels, rode off post-haste to carry the news of Lulu’s condition to the camp and get help.

The announcement caused a good deal of talk, stir, and excitement, which was suddenly put a stop to by Abd-el-Thullam jumping on his mare and making off at full speed toward the cavern, hoping to be the first to secure his dearly-bought bride.

Others joined in the race, but it seemed as if no one would overtake the eager chief, when suddenly he was seen to fall heavily, having been thrown to the ground by his mare putting her foot into a hole.

He did not move, and when the others reached him they discovered to their consternation that he had broken his neck and was quite dead. Instead of a reluctant bride being escorted to the distant camp, therefore, the corpse of the unfortunate chief was carried thither.

On reaching the cavern the men found Lulu still deep in the drug-induced slumber, and, making a rough litter out of their roomy outer garments, they carried her to their camp and laid her on her rude bed of heather and dry grass.

Fortunately, the old gipsy-woman had not left the camp, and now, taking in the situation, she administered a dose of some concoction that soon had the effect of rousing the sleeper and making her able to explain her presence in the rock-hewn tomb.

Slowly but surely Lulu regained vigour, and the old youthful spirit came again, much to the joy of Abd-Salaam and her father. After a few weeks another marriage feast was kept, for there was now no obstacle to the wedding of the lovers, the price of the bride having been paid by the ill-fated “servant of cruelty.” The affair was hurried this time, for the feast was to have a happy ending; love, instead of custom, had won the day.

BY HERBERT G. PONTING, F.R.G.S

The amusing story of an American who set out to eclipse the round-the-world record. The author, himself a globe-trotter of many years’ standing, describes him as “the most extraordinary man I ever met,” and after reading the narrative we fancy the reader will be inclined to agree with him.

I met him at Dalny, in August, 1903--the year before war broke out between Japan and Russia.

I had been travelling in Manchuria, and had come down from Mukden only just in time to catch, by the skin of my teeth, the weekly steamer to Japan. The train was more than an hour late, and the drosky that I hired at the station--with my luggage piled in anyhow by the Chinese porters--had been driven by the dishevelled moujik in charge at a pace that laughed at speed limits and scorned such trifling obstacles as ruts and holes nearly a foot in depth.

As we tore up to the steamer’s berth at the great wharf, that was later to prove of such inestimable value to the Japanese, the driver shouting and lashing his three horses into foam, the gangway was on the point of being lowered, and I had horrible visions of having to spend a week in that most dead of dead-alive towns, in which I already seemed to know every house.

With commendable courtesy, however, the officials permitted me to get myself and effects on board, and a moment later we were steaming out into the fine harbour.

The steamer was the _Mongolia_, which had the misfortune six months later to be the first Russian vessel captured by the Japanese.

I was leaning over the rail, watching the hills receding from view, when I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder, and on looking round was confronted by a rather sallow-faced, wiry-looking individual of medium height, with steel-grey eyes that seemed to pierce through mine clean into my brain.

“Say, d’you speak English?” he asked me.

I admitted that, being an Englishman, I had a moderate command of the language.

“Well, I ain’t English, I’m Amur’can,” he replied.

“So I see.”

“Well, say now, how’d you know I was Amur’can?”

“By your accent; one would scarcely make the mistake of taking you for anything else.”

“Well, say, you’re smart enough to be an Amur’can, too, at that rate. Anyhow, I’m mighty glad to see you, for since I parted with my friend, who went to Port Arthur, I ain’t had a chance of hearin’ a language that anyone could understand. I’m out to beat the record round the world for the _New York_ ----, and if I only make it in Japan I’ll beat the previous best by exactly twelve days.”

He then related to me how he had left New York and travelled _viâ_ Liverpool, London, Dover, Ostend, Berlin, Moscow, and the Trans-Siberian Railway to Dalny; and here he was, bound for Nagasaki, Japan, where he would take the train for Yokohama, and thence travel by the _Empress of India_ to Vancouver, by the Canadian Pacific Railway to Quebec, and from there back to New York.

“I’m going to publish a book on the trip, and I’ve got about enough information to fill it already. Say, though, my wife’ll be glad to see me back again in New York. She’s a beautiful woman, my wife. She’s tall and dark, and has a straight-front figure--a woman can’t be fashionable without a straight-front figure--and when she walks she leans forward like a kangaroo and does the glide. Ever seen it? I tell you, sir, there’s nuthin’ like it; and it takes a New York girl to do it properly, and there ain’t many girls in New York as can lick my wife at walkin’. I’ll introduce you to her sometime if I ever see you in New York, an’ if you don’t say she’s about the slickest thing you ever saw in skirts, well, you ain’t much of a judge o’ weather.

“Say, now that I come to look at you, I’ve seen you before, I guess,” he rattled on. “Wasn’t you the chap that come rushin’ on to the platform at Mukden just as our train was movin’ out of the station?”

I acknowledged that I was. Owing to the impossibility of obtaining any reliable information in the town, several miles away, as to the time of departure of the trains, I had reached the station, to my great chagrin, just in time to see the _train de luxe_ move away from the platform. I had thus been compelled to take a slow and very dirty train three hours later, and hence the reason of my nearly missing the boat at Dalny.