XLVIII
"That must be the bordj of Toudja, at last," Victoria said, looking outbetween the curtains of her bassour. "Aren't you thankful, Saidee?You'll feel happier and freer, when Cassim's men have gone back to theZaouia, and our ransom has been paid by the return of the little boy.That volume of your life will be closed for ever and ever, and you canbegin the next."
Saidee was silent. She did not want to think that the volume was closedfor ever, because in it there was one chapter which, unless it could beadded to the new volume, would leave the rest of the book withoutinterest for her. Half involuntarily she touched the basket which HonoreSabine had given her when they parted in the desert city of Oued Tolgaearly that morning. In the basket were two carrier pigeons. She hadpromised to send one from the Bordj of Toudja, and another at the end ofthe next day's journey. After that she would be within reach of thetelegraph. Her reason told her it was well that Sabine was not with hernow, yet she wished for him, and could not be glad of his absence.Perhaps she would never see him again. Who could tell? It would havebeen unwise for Sabine, as an officer and as a man, to leave his duty totravel with her: she could see that, yet she was secretly angry withVictoria, because Victoria, happy herself, seemed to have littlesympathy with her sister's hopes. The girl did not like to talk aboutSabine, or discuss any connection he might possibly have with Saidee'sfuture; and because Victoria was silent on that subject, Saidee revengedherself by being reticent on others. Victoria guessed the reason, andher heart yearned over Saidee; but this was something of which theycould not talk. Some day, perhaps, Saidee would understand, and theywould be drawn together again more closely than before.
"There's Toudja," Stephen said, as the girl looked out again from thebassour. Whenever he saw her face, framed thus by the dark red curtains,his heart beat, as if her beauty were new to him, seen that instant forthe first time. This was the flood-tide of his life, now when theytravelled through the desert together, he and she, and she depended uponhis help and protection. For to-day, and the few more days until thedesert journey should come to an end at Biskra, the tide would be atflood: then it would ebb, never to rise again, because at Algiers theymust part, she to go her way, he to go his; and his way would lead himto Margot Lorenzi. After Algiers there would be no more happiness forhim, and he did not hope for it; but, right or wrong, he was livingpassionately in every moment now.
Victoria smiled down from the high bassour at the dark, sunburnt face ofthe rider. How different it was from the dark face of another rider whohad looked up at her, between her curtains, when she had passed that waybefore! There was only one point of resemblance between the two: thelight of love in the eyes. Victoria could not help recognizing thatlikeness. She could not help being sure that Stephen loved her, and thethought made her feel safe, as well as happy. There had been a sense ofdanger in the knowledge of Maieddine's love.
"The tower in the bordj is ruined," she said, looking across the wavingsea of dunes to a tall black object like the crooked finger of a giantpointing up out of the gold into the blue. "It wasn't so when I passedbefore."
"No," Stephen answered, welcoming any excuse for talk with her. "But itwas when we came from Touggourt. Sabine told me there'd been atremendous storm in the south just before we left Algiers, and theheliograph tower at Toudja was struck by lightning. They'll build it upagain soon, for all these heliograph stations are supposed to be keptin order, in case of any revolt; for the first thing a rebellious tribedoes is to cut the telegraph wires. If that happened, the only way ofcommunication would be by heliograph; and Sabine says that fromTouggourt to Tombouctou this chain of towers has been arranged always onelevations, so that signals can be seen across great stretches ofdesert; and inside the walls of a bordj whenever possible, for defence.But the South is so contented and peaceful now, I don't suppose theGovernment will get out of breath in its hurry to restore the damagehere."
At the sound of Sabine's name Saidee had instantly roused to attention,and as Stephen spoke calmly of the peace and content in the South, shesmiled. Then suddenly her face grew eager.
"Did the marabout appoint Toudja as the place to make the exchange, orwas it you?" she asked, over Victoria's shoulder.
"The marabout," said Stephen. "I fell in with the idea because I'dalready made objections to several, and I could see none to Toudja. It'sa day's journey farther north than the Zaouia, and I remembered thebordj being kept by two Frenchmen, who would be of use if----" Hechecked himself, not wishing to hint that it might be necessary to guardagainst treason. "If we had to stop for the night," he amended, "nodoubt the bordj would be better kept than some others. And we shall haveto stop, you know, because my friend, Caird, can't arrive from Touggourtwith the boy till late, at best."
"Did--the marabout seem bent on making this bordj the rendezvous?"Saidee asked.
Stephen's eyes met hers in a quick, involuntary glance, then turned tothe ruined tower. He saw it against the northern sky as they came fromthe south, and, blackened by the lightning, it accentuated thedesolation of the dunes. In itself, it looked sinister as a brokengibbet. "If the marabout had a strong preference for the place, hedidn't betray it," was the only answer he could make. "Have you aspecial reason for asking?"
"No," Saidee echoed. "No special reason."
But Stephen and Victoria both guessed what was in her mind. As theylooked at the tower all three thought of the Arabs who formed theircaravan. There were six, sent out from the Zaouia to take back thelittle Mohammed. They belonged body and soul to the marabout. At thetown of Oued Tolga, Stephen had added a third to his escort of two; butthough they were good guides, brave, upstanding fellows, he knew theywould turn from him if there were any question between Roumis and men oftheir own religion. If an accident had happened to the child on the wayback from Touggourt, or if any other difficulty arose, in which theirinterest clashed with his, he would have nine Arabs against him. He andCaird, with the two Highlanders, if they came, would be alone, no matterhow large might be Nevill's Arab escort. Stephen hardly knew why thesethoughts pressed upon him suddenly, with new insistence, as he saw thetower rise dark against the sky, jagged as if it had been hacked with ahuge, dull knife. He had known from the first what risks they ran.Nevill and he and Sabine had talked them all over, and decided that, onthe whole, there was no great danger of treachery from the marabout, whostood to lose too much, to gain too little, by breaking faith. As forMaieddine, he was ill with fever, so the sisters said, and Saidee andVictoria believed that he had been kept in ignorance of the marabout'sbargain. Altogether, circumstances seemed to have combined in theirfavour. Ben Halim's wife was naturally suspicious and fearful, after herlong martyrdom, but there was no new reason for uneasiness. Only,Stephen reminded himself, he must not neglect the slightest wavering ofthe weather-vane. And in every shadow he must look for a sign.
They had not made a hurried march from the desert city, for Stephen andSabine had calculated the hour at which Nevill might have received thesummons, and the time he would take on the return journey. It waspossible, Lady MacGregor being what she was, that she might have rewiredthe telegram to a certain bordj, the only telegraph station betweenTouggourt and Oued Tolga. If she had done this, and the message hadcaught Nevill, many hours would be saved. Instead of getting to thebordj about midnight, tired out with a long, quick march, he might beexpected before dark. Even so, Stephen would be well ahead, for, as thecaravan came to the gate of the bordj, it was only six o'clock, blazingafternoon still, and hot as midday, with the fierce, golden heat of thedesert towards the end of May.
The big iron gates were wide open, and nothing stirred in the quadrangleinside; but as Stephen rode in, one of the Frenchmen he rememberedslouched out of a room where the wooden shutters of the window wereclosed for coolness. His face was red, and he yawned as he came forward,rubbing his eyes as if he had been asleep. But he welcomed Stephenpolitely, and seeing that a good profit might be expected from so largea party, he roused himself to look pleased.
"I must
have a room for two ladies," said Stephen, "and I am expecting afriend with a small caravan, to arrive from the north. However, six ofmy Arabs will go back when he comes. You must do the best you can forus, but nothing is of any importance compared to the ladies' comfort."
"Certainly, I will do my best," the keeper of the bordj assured him."But as you see, our accommodation is humble. It is strained when wehave four or five officers for the night, and though I and my brotherhave been in this God-forsaken place--worse luck!--for nine years, wehave never yet had to put up ladies. Unfortunately, too, my brother isaway, gone to Touggourt to buy stores, and I have only one Arab to helpme. Still, though I have forgotten many useful things in thisbanishment, I have not forgotten how to cook, as more than one Frenchofficer could tell you."
"One has told me," said Stephen. "Captain Sabine, of the Chasseursd'Afrique."
"Ah, ce beau sabreur! He stopped with me on his way to Oued Tolga, forthe well-making. If he has recommended me, I shall be on my mettle,Monsieur."
The heavy face brightened; but there were bags under the bloodshot eyes,and the man's breath reeked of alcohol. Stephen was sorry the brotherwas away. He had been the more alert and prepossessing of the two.
As they talked, the quadrangle of the bordj--which was but an inferiorcaravanserai--had waked to animation. The landlord's one Arab servanthad appeared, like a rat out of a hole, to help the new arrivals withtheir horses and camels. The caravans had filed in, and the marabout'smen and Stephen's guides had dismounted.
None of these had seen the place since the visitation of the storm, andone or two from the Zaouia had perhaps never been so far north before,yet they looked at the broken tower with grave interest rather thancuriosity. Stephen wondered whether they had been primed with knowledgebefore starting, or if their lack of emotion were but Arab stoicism.
As usual in a caravanserai or large bordj, all round the squarecourtyard were series of rooms: a few along one wall for theaccommodation of French officers and rich Arabs, furnished withelementary European comforts; opposite, a dining-room and kitchen; tothe left, the quarters of the two landlords and their servants; alongthe fourth wall, on either side of the great iron gate, sheds foranimals, untidily littered with straw and refuse, infested with flies.Further disorder was added by the debris from the brokenheliograph-tower which had been only partially cleared away since thestorm. Other towers there were, also; three of them, all very low andsquat, jutting out from each corner of the high, flat-topped wall, andloopholed as usual, so that men stationed inside could defend against anescalade. These small towers were intact, though the roof of one wascovered with rubbish from the ruined shell rising above; and looking upat this, Stephen saw that much had fallen away since he passed withNevill, going to Oued Tolga. One entire wall had been sliced off,leaving the inside of the tower, with the upper chamber, visible frombelow. It was like looking into a half-dissected body, and the effectwas depressing.
"If we should be raided by Arabs now," said the landlord, laughing, ashe saw Stephen glance at the tower, "we should have to pray for help:there would be no other means of getting it."
"You don't seem to worry much," replied Stephen.
"No, for the Arabs in these parts are sheep nowadays," said theFrenchman. "Like sheep, they might follow a leader; but where is theleader? It is different among the Touaregs, where I spent some timebefore I came here. They are warriors by nature, but even they are quietof late."
"Do you ever see any here?" Stephen asked.
"A few occasionally, going to Touggourt, but seldom. They areformidable-looking fellows, in their indigo-coloured masks, which staintheir skin blue, but they are tractable enough if one does not offendthem."
There was only one room which could be made passably habitable forSaidee and Victoria, and they went into it, out of the hot sun, as soonas it could be prepared. The little luggage they had brought went withthem, and the basket containing the two carrier pigeons. Saidee fed thebirds, and scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper, to tell Sabinethat they had arrived safely at Toudja. On second thoughts, she added apostscript, while Victoria unpacked what they needed for the night."_He_ chose the rendezvous," Saidee wrote. "I suppose I'm toosuperstitious, but I can't help wondering if his choice had anything todo with the ruined tower? Don't be anxious, though. You will probablyreceive another line to-morrow night, to say that we've reached the nextstage, and all's well."
"I suppose you think I'm doing wrong to write to him?" she said toVictoria, as she took one of the pigeons out of its basket.
"No," the girl answered. "Why shouldn't you write to say you're safe?He's your friend, and you're going far away."
Saidee almost wished that Victoria had scolded her. Without speakingagain, she began to fasten her letter under the bird's wing, but gave alittle cry, for there was blood on her fingers. "Oh, he's hurt himselfsomehow!" she exclaimed. "He won't be able to fly, I'm afraid. Whatshall I do? I must send the other one. And yet--if I do, there'll benothing for to-morrow."
"Won't you wait until after Mr. Caird has come, and you can tell aboutthe little boy?" Victoria suggested.
"He mayn't arrive till very late, and--I promised Captain Sabine that heshould hear to-night."
"But think how quickly a pigeon flies! Surely it can go in less thanhalf the time we would take, riding up and down among the dunes."
"Oh, much less than half! Captain Sabine said that from the bordj ofToudja the pigeon would come to him in an hour and a half, or two atmost."
"Then wait a little longer. Somehow I feel you'll be glad if you do."
Saidee looked quickly at the girl. "You make me superstitious," shesaid.
"Why?"
"With your 'feelings' about things. They're almost always right. I'mafraid of them. I shouldn't dare send the pigeon now, for fear----"
"For fear of what?"
"I hardly know. I told you that you made me superstitious."
Stephen stood between the open gates of the bordj, looking north, whenceNevill should come. The desert was empty, a great, waving stretch ofgold, but a caravan might be engulfed among the dunes. Any momenthorses or camels might come in sight; and he was not anxious aboutNevill or the boy. It was impossible that they could have been cut offby an attacking party from the Zaouia. Captain Sabine and he, Stephen,had kept too keen a watch for that to happen, for the Zaouia lay southof Oued Tolga the city.
Others besides himself were searching the sea of sand. One of his ownguides was standing outside the gates, talking with two of themarabout's men, and looking into the distance. But rather oddly, itseemed to him, their faces were turned southward, until the guide saidsomething to the others. Then, slowly, they faced towards the north.Stephen remembered how he had told himself to neglect no sign. Had hejust seen a sign?
For some moments he did not look at the Arabs. Then, glancing quickly atthe group, he saw that the head man sent by the marabout was talkingemphatically to the guide from Oued Tolga, the city. Again, their eyesflashed to the Roumi, before he had time to turn away, and withouthesitation the head man from the Zaouia came a few steps towards him."Sidi, we see horses," he said, in broken French. "The caravan thou dostexpect is there," and he pointed.
Stephen had very good eyesight, but he saw nothing, and said so.
"We Arabs are used to looking across great distances," the man answered."Keep thy gaze steadily upon the spot where I point, and presently thouwilt see."
It was as he prophesied. Out of a blot of shadow among the tawny dunescrawled some dark specks, which might have been particles of the shadowitself. They moved, and gradually increased in size. By and by Stephencould count seven separate specks. It must be Nevill and the boy, andStephen wondered if he had added two more Arabs to the pair who had goneback with him from Oued Tolga, towards Touggourt.
"Hurrah for Lady MacGregor!" the watcher said under his breath. "Shewired on my telegram, and caught him before he'd passed the laststation. I might have known she would, the glorious old darling!" Hehurried
inside the bordj to knock at the ladies' door, and tell thenews. "They're in sight!" he cried. "Would you like to come outside thegate and look?"
Instantly the door opened, and the sisters appeared. Victoria lookedflushed and happy, but Saidee was pale, almost haggard in comparisonwith the younger girl. Both were in Arab dress still, having nothingelse, even if they had wished to change; and as she came out, Saideemechanically drew the long blue folds of her veil closely over her face.Custom had made this a habit which it would be hard to break.
All three went out together, and the Arabs, standing in a group, turnedat the sound of their voices. Again they had been looking southward.Stephen looked also, but the dazzle of the declining sun was in hiseyes.
"Don't seem to notice anything," said Saidee in a low voice.
"What is there to notice?" he asked in the same tone.
"A big caravan coming from the south. Can't you see it?"
"No. I see nothing."
"You haven't stared at the desert for eight years, as I have. There mustbe eighteen or twenty men."
"Do you think they're from the Zaouia?" asked Victoria.
"Who can tell? We can't know till they're very close, and then----"
"Nevill Caird will get here first," Stephen said, half to himself. "Youcan see five horses and two camels plainly now. They're travellingfast."
"Those Arabs have seen the others," Saidee murmured. "But they don'twant us to know they're thinking about them."
"Even if men are coming from the Zaouia," said Stephen, "it may easilybe that they've only been sent as an extra escort for the boy, owing tohis father's anxiety."
"Yes, it may be only that," Saidee admitted. "Still, I'm glad----" Shedid not finish her sentence. But she was thinking about the carrierpigeon, and Victoria's advice.
All three looked northward, watching the seven figures on horseback, inthe far distance; but now and then, when they could hope to do sowithout being noticed by the Arabs, they stole a hasty glance in theother direction. "The caravan has stopped," Saidee declared at last. "Inthe shadow of a big dune."
"I see, now," said Stephen.
"And I," added Victoria.
"Perhaps after all, it's just an ordinary caravan," Saidee said morehopefully. "Many nomads come north at this time of year. They may bemaking their camp now. Anyway, its certain they haven't moved for sometime."
And still they had not moved, when Nevill Caird was close enough to thebordj for a shout of greeting to be heard.
"There are two of the strangest-looking creatures with him!" criedSaidee. "What can they be--on camels!"
"Why," exclaimed Victoria, "it's those men in kilts, who waited on thetable at Mr. Caird's house!"
"Hurrah for Lady MacGregor again!" laughed Stephen. "It's the twins,Angus and Hamish." He pulled off his panama hat and waved it, shouting tohis friend in joy. "We're a regiment!" he exclaimed gaily.