Winning His Spurs: A Tale of the CrusadesHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
Winning His Spurs: A Tale of the Crusades
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Crusades -- Third, 1189-1192 -- Fiction
When morning broke Cuthbert, even when ascending to the top of a somewhat
lofty mound, could see no signs of pursuers in the vast stretch of desert
behind him. In front, the ground was already becoming dotted here and
there with vegetation, and he doubted not that after a few hours' ride he
should be fairly in the confines of cultivated country. He gave his camel
a meal of dates, and having eaten some himself, again set the creature in
motion. These camels, especially those of good breed, will go on for
three or four days with scarcely a halt; and there was no fear of that on
which he rode breaking down from fatigue, for the journeys hitherto had
been comparatively short.
By mid-day Cuthbert had reached the cultivated lands of Palestine. Here
and there over the plain, villages were dotted, and parties of men and
camels were to be seen. Cuthbert now arranged his robes carefully in Arab
fashion, slung the long spear across his shoulders, and went boldly
forward at a slinging trot, having little fear that a passer-by would
have any suspicion whatever as to his being other than an Arab bent upon
some rapid journey. He soon found that his hopes were justified. Several
times he came upon parties of men whom he passed with the salute, and who
scarcely raised their eyes as he trotted by them. The plain was an open
one, and though cultivated here and there, there were large tracts lying
unworked. There was no occasion therefore to keep to the road; so riding
across country, and avoiding the villages as far as possible, stopping
only at a stream to give his camel water, Cuthbert rode without ceasing
until nightfall. Then he halted his camel near a wood, turned it in to
feed on the young foliage, and wrapping himself in his burnous was soon
asleep, for he ached from head to foot with the jolting motion which had
now been continued for so many hours without an interval. He had little
fear of being overtaken by the party he had left behind; they would, he
was convinced, be many hours behind, and it was extremely improbable that
they would hit upon the exact line which he had followed, so that even if
they succeeded in coming up to him, they would probably pass him a few
miles either to the right or left.
So fatigued was he with his long journey, that the next day he slept
until after the sun had risen. He was awakened suddenly by being seized
by a party of Arabs, who, roughly shaking him, questioned him as to
where he came from, and what he was doing there. He saw at a glance that
they were not with the party from which he had escaped, and he pointed to
his lips to make signs that he was dumb. The Arabs evidently suspected
that something was wrong. They examined the camel, and then the person of
their captive. The whiteness of his skin at once showed them that he was
a Frank in disguise, and without more ado or questioning, they tied him
hand and foot, flung him across the camel, and, mounting their own
animals, rode rapidly away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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