East and West -- Fiction; Egypt -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Hostages -- Fiction
“Well, now, if that isn’t too picturesque for anything!” she cried, with
a flush of excitement upon her pretty face. “Do look, Mr. Stephens!
That’s just the one only thing we wanted to make it just perfectly
grand. See the men upon the camels coming out from between those
hills!”
They all looked at the long string of red-turbaned riders who were
winding out of the ravine, and there fell such a hush that the buzzing
of the flies sounded quite loud upon their ears. Colonel Cochrane had
lit a match, and he stood with it in one hand and the unlit cigarette in
the other until the flame licked round his fingers. Belmont whistled.
The dragoman stood staring with his mouth half-open, and a curious slaty
tint in his full, red lips. The others looked from one to the other
with an uneasy sense that there was something wrong. It was the Colonel
who broke the silence.
“By George, Belmont, I believe the hundred-to-one chance has come off!”
said he.
CHAPTER IV.
“What’s the meaning of this, Mansoor?” cried Belmont harshly. “Who are
these people, and why are you standing staring as if you had lost your
senses?”
The dragoman made an effort to compose himself, and licked his dry lips
before he answered.
“I do not know who they are,” said he in a quavering voice.
“Who they are?” cried the Frenchman. “You can see who they are.
They are armed men upon camels, Ababdeh, Bishareen--Bedouins, in short,
such as are employed by the Government upon the frontier.”
“Be Jove, he may be right, Cochrane,” said Belmont, looking inquiringly
at the Colonel. “Why shouldn’t it be as he says? why shouldn’t these
fellows be friendlies?”
“There are no friendlies upon this side of the river,” said the Colonel
abruptly; “I am perfectly certain about that. There is no use in
mincing matters. We must prepare for the worst.”
But in spite of his words, they stood stock-still, in a huddled group,
staring out over the plain. Their nerves were numbed by the sudden
shock, and to all of them it was like a scene in a dream, vague,
impersonal, and un-real. The men upon the camels had streamed out from
a gorge which lay a mile or so distant on the side of the path along
which they had travelled. Their retreat, therefore, was entirely cut
off. It appeared, from the dust and the length of the line, to be quite
an army which was emerging from the hills, for seventy men upon camels
cover a considerable stretch of ground. Having reached the sandy plain,
they very deliberately formed to the front, and then at the harsh call
of a bugle they trotted forward in line, the parti-coloured figures all
swaying and the sand smoking in a rolling yellow cloud at the heels of
their camels. At the same moment the six black soldiers doubled in from
the front with their Martinis at the trail, and snuggled down like
well-trained skirmishers behind the rocks upon the haunch of the hill.
Their breech blocks all snapped together as their corporal gave them the
order to load.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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