East and West -- Fiction; Egypt -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Hostages -- Fiction
The sun was now high, and it shone with dazzling brightness upon the
bleached bones which lay upon the road. Again the torture of thirst
fell upon the little group of survivors, and again, as they rode with
withered tongues and crusted lips, a vision of the saloon of the
_Korosko_ danced like a mirage before their eyes, and they saw the white
napery, the wine-cards by the places, the long necks of the bottles, the
siphons upon the sideboard. Sadie, who had borne up so well, became
suddenly hysterical, and her shrieks of senseless laughter jarred
horribly upon their nerves. Her aunt on one side of her, and Mr.
Stephens on the other, did all they could to soothe her, and at last the
weary, overstrung girl relapsed into something between a sleep and a
faint, hanging limp over her pommel, and only kept from falling by the
friends who clustered round her. The baggage-camels were as weary as
their riders, and again and again they had to jerk at their nose-ropes
to prevent them from lying down. From horizon to horizon stretched that
one huge arch of speckless blue, and up its monstrous concavity crept
the inexorable sun, like some splendid but barbarous deity, who claimed
a tribute of human suffering as his immemorial right.
Their course still lay along the old trade route, but their progress was
very slow, and more than once the two Emirs rode back together, and
shook their heads as they looked at the weary baggage-camels on which
the prisoners were perched. The greatest laggard of all was one which
was ridden by a wounded Soudanese soldier. It was limping badly with a
strained tendon, and it was only by constant prodding that it could be
kept with the others. The Emir Wad Ibrahim raised his Remington, as the
creature hobbled past, and sent a bullet through its brain. The wounded
man flew forwards out of the high saddle, and fell heavily upon the hard
track. His companions in misfortune, looking back, saw him stagger to
his feet with a dazed face. At the same instant a Baggara slipped down
from his camel with a sword in his hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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