In spite of the difficulties, Tom would have been inclined to attempt this means if it had not involved serious delay, and still more serious risk to both Abdul and himself. Hamet Ali lived on the far side of the town. Abdul would have to make his way there, waken his friend, explain the circ.u.mstances, overcome a probable reluctance to meddle, fix a price with Hamet Ali, and another for the sheikh's servant. Every move would be attended with danger. A Moor's house is a castle in miniature. Any attempt to rouse the inmates at this dead hour of night would necessitate so much noise and clatter as to disturb the neighbourhood.

The night was wearing on, and before Abdul could, with reasonable regard to secrecy, obtain access to his friend's house, daylight might be upon them. The Moors are early risers, and even if all went well, and Tom and the others stole forth from the village before dawn, they would almost certainly be seen and ridden down as they crossed the wide rocky s.p.a.ces that surrounded the place. But the most serious consideration of all was that of time: it would not be possible to get into treaty with any one inside the kasbah before Salathiel ben Ezra appeared on the scene. Then the enterprise was doomed to failure.

Tom was anxiously discussing with himself the pros and cons when Abdul plucked him by the arm.

"Day is near, master," he whispered. "We must go by the way we came."

Tom was reluctant to own himself beaten; but there was clearly no hope for it. Gathering his djellab about him, and pulling the hood over his head, he followed Abdul with quick, noiseless footsteps across the square.

Ahmed Huk, apprentice to Hamadi ben Ibn, the swordsmith of Ain Afroo, had spent a restless night. His head throbbed; he could not sleep; he wished he had not smoked so much hashish when his work was done for the day. The air of the little shop was close and oppressive; and after hours of wakefulness, turning from side to side in the vain effort to find sleep, Ahmed got up and quietly unbarred the little wicket in the door, careful not to disturb his master, who was snoring loudly within a few feet of him. Perhaps a little fresh air from the outside would cool his heated brow.

He had not stood more than a few minutes at the wicket, and was already thinking of returning to his charpoy, when he noticed, in the moonlight on the other side of the square, two figures turn the corner by the kasbah opposite, coming from the direction of the village wall. They at once disappeared into the shadow thrown by the great wall of the building, but something in their movements aroused the curiosity of Ahmed. Why were two wayfarers abroad at so late an hour? The matter was not his concern; still, he would remain at the wicket a little longer, to see if the two night-walkers reappeared.

His view was somewhat broken by the rows of pillars supporting the colonnade in front of the shops of which his master's establishment was one; but through the interval between two of them he did at last see the two forms moving with rather suspicious quickness across the illumined square, and, what was more interesting to him, they were seemingly coming in his direction. Were they thieves, he wondered? He could hardly believe it, for the village was small; they could scarcely escape detection; and the sheikh's ingenuity in punishments was notorious even in Morocco, where torture is a fine art.

With instinctive caution Ahmed closed the wicket, leaving only a slit just wide enough for him to peep through. In a few moments he heard the slight rustle of the strangers' garments, and saw their dark forms clearly outlined against the moonlight. They had come under the colonnade and halted within two or three yards of him, behind one of the pillars. They whispered a little together, then were silent for a s.p.a.ce, then whispered again: and now Ahmed was interested indeed, for, low as their tones were, he overheard a word or two, and they made him jump; they were certainly not in the Moorish tongue. His master's business had taken him more than once to Dar al Beida, and he had heard such words used by the N'zrani-the unbelievers who were suffered to pollute the city by their presence. How came it that here, in Ain Afroo, a village where no unbeliever ever set foot save a dog of a Jew now and then (though truly there were one or two infidel wretches now safely confined in the kasbah)-how came it that two men, good Moors and followers of the Prophet, to all appearance, were speaking in the tongue of the infidel?

It was perplexing, to say the least, and undoubtedly worthy of the attention of Hamadi his master.

Leaving the wicket, Ahmed silently groped his way to the charpoy on which the swordsmith was sleeping, and gently awakened him. In a low whisper he conveyed the news of his discovery. Hamadi at once rose, and, trusting to the pitch darkness of the colonnade, opened the wicket fully, and listened with all his ears.

Tom and Abdul had no sooner crossed the square than the bolts of the shop door opposite which they had been standing were softly drawn back, and Hamadi, followed by his apprentice, glided barefoot after them. Each bore a sword-good weapons, as Hamadi, who had made them, well knew.

Hamadi saw a vision of great prosperity and high favour with the sheikh.

He would follow up the strangers, if strangers they indeed were, to the house where they harboured. There he would leave Ahmed to keep watch, while he himself sped to the kasbah and told what he had seen. Without doubt the sheikh would reward him handsomely.

By the time Hamadi and his boy had left the shelter of the colonnade, the strangers had turned the corner of the far side of the square; but the pursuers ran quickly across the open s.p.a.ce and gained the corner while their quarry was still in sight.

Tom and his companion, picking their way with all caution through the dark, uneven, dirty pa.s.sages that led from the kasbah to the outer wall, went out slowly. Every now and again they stumbled over a loose cobble or a heap of refuse; then there was a little noise that might betray their presence to any one who happened to be within a few yards of them.

At such times Abdul would throw a hurried glance back; well he knew what their fate would be if they were captured.

Suddenly he edged a little closer to Tom and whispered-

"Men follow us!"

By this time they were almost within reach of the wall. Tom was alive to the danger in which the pursuit had placed them. Descending the wall, they would have to grope for foothold. Before they could get clear, the pursuers would have come up behind, and might either topple down upon them loose boulders from the wall, or, if they bore firearms, have them at their mercy. The two hurried their steps.

"They are close behind-two men!" whispered Abdul.

Tom glanced to each side along the wall. There was no convenient place in which they might take refuge with any prospect of eluding their pursuers. They were now hasting along at a half run beneath a long wall that possibly enclosed some gardens of houses backing on the ramparts.

Here and there this wall was broken by a doorway; but the gates, when Tom tested them by a push, were always closed. Abdul was making for the spot at which they had entered the village; it was the nearest, indeed the only practicable, place of descent. But to descend, with the pursuers upon them, would be dangerous, perhaps fatal. To leave this place of exit, and move farther along the ramparts or back into the village, would be almost equally dangerous and would lose precious time.

The only other course open to them was to tackle the problem of disposing of the pursuers. Tom nervously fingered his revolver; but a shot would rouse the whole village and multiply the pursuers perhaps fiftyfold.

While Tom was feverishly attempting to hit on some means of dealing with the two men, these, unaware that they had been seen, were already reckoning up the profits of a successful coup. As soon as Hamadi the swordsmith saw that the men in front were making for the ramparts, he guessed at once that they were intruders from the outside, and he also guessed the point at which the exit was to be made. This was not the first time that the place had been used as a means of getting in and out of the village by night. More than once it had happened that the villagers, at feud with neighbouring mountaineers, had crept out at night to settle their scores, returning safely within the walls before daybreak. The fact that the gates were closed and no one could pa.s.s during the night was prima facie evidence of their innocence. It was even said that the sheikh had settled accounts with a hostile neighbour in the same way. The swordsmith therefore was quite justified in shaping his course on the a.s.sumption that the two men in front of him would climb down the ruined part of the wall, and he would be in ample time to deal with them when they were clinging precariously to the face of the stonework.

The only fault in his calculation was that he did not reckon with the sharp eyes of Tom's companion. Thus it was that, pa.s.sing incautiously one of the recessed doorways leading on to the gardens, he suddenly saw a thousand brilliant lights flash before his eyes, his sword flew from his grasp, and he reeled dizzily to the ground. Tom's muscles were hardened by much exercise in engineering workshops, and Hamadi, though a big man and strong, as befitted one of his trade, was not prepared for so surprising an attack. Before he could recover his wits Tom was upon him, pressing the cold barrel of his revolver to his ear. The man, although dizzy, had still enough intelligence left to know what this meant, and he lay quite still while Tom pondered how he could at the same time secure his vanquished foe and lend a.s.sistance to his companion, who was now hotly engaged with the apprentice. Abdul, however, needed no help. Before Tom had time to decide upon his own course, the young Moor, taking full advantage of the darkness that neutralized the effect of his enemy's longer weapon, dodged in beneath the latter's guard, and got home a shrewd thrust in the forearm. Ahmed, yelling l.u.s.tily, dropped his sword, spun round, and set off down the ramparts at full speed before Abdul could repeat his stroke.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HIS SWORD FLEW FROM HIS GRASP, AND HE REELED DIZZILY TO THE GROUND.]

Tom breathed more freely. He had at any rate, he thought, gained a few minutes. The yells of the Moor were not likely to bring help immediately. While a shot would undoubtedly have raised the guard at the kasbah, and brought a party in hot haste to the spot, the cries of a man yelling would probably only cause a certain sleepy curiosity. A Moor never puts himself to unnecessary trouble, and it would certainly not be worth while to pay much attention to a brawl between men who had smoked too much hashish. But there was still need for haste, so with Abdul's a.s.sistance Tom trussed up the fallen swordsmith with workmanlike bonds made of his own garments, and in another minute was beginning the descent of the wall.

They were only halfway down when they heard an uproar in the village.

The apprentice had lost no time in gathering a band to continue the pursuit. Yet Tom could not hurry his flight, for a false step would mean at least a broken arm, and in all probability a broken neck. With Abdul close behind he picked his way down the broken masonry, the shouts growing ever nearer and more menacing. At last they reached the bottom.

Then, Abdul leading the way, they hurried along the foot of the wall.

They durst not yet leave its shelter, for the moon, though now sinking in the sky, still threw sufficient light to betray them if they attempted to cross the open s.p.a.ce towards the hillside.

Crouching low as they went, they heard the pursuers halt at the place where they had descended. But now they had reached a welcome patch of stunted bush which promised needful cover. Plunging into this, still keeping low so that their heads should not show above the scrub, they strode away at right angles to the wall. Abdul's knowledge of the country served him well. Descending the hill, they were soon out of danger. Then up and down little eminences, over brooks, through patches of wood, they pressed on, always bearing slightly to the right until they struck the true course. Almost in a bee-line, they made for the hill where Oliphant was anxiously awaiting them, and arrived there just after dawn, tired out, and not a little disappointed with the barren result of their night's work.

CHAPTER IX-A BOLT FROM THE BLUE

"Thank Heaven you are back!" said Oliphant when Tom appeared over the brow of the hill. "I don't think I ever spent a more miserable night."

"Anything happened?"

"No. It wouldn't have been so bad if anything had. If I'd had something to do-somebody to fight, or something!"

"Well, you could have gone to sleep."

"So I did, and woke in a fright. I dreamt that wretched Jew fellow was coming at me with outstretched hands, and his fingernails were like some horrid bird's claws, and he grew bigger and bigger as he came until he seemed as huge as a mountain. But what luck did you have?"

"None, or next to none. The kasbah's as strong as Newgate. And the worst of it is, we were spotted and followed, had to truss up one fellow; another alarmed the village. We escaped just by the skin of our teeth."

He related in detail the incidents of the night.

"It looks as if we'll have to back out after all," said Oliphant gloomily when the story was finished.

"I'll be hanged if we will. I've been thinking it over, and talking it over with Abdul, on the way back. The only chance, it seems to me, is to face all the risks and make a dash for it."

"What do you mean?"

"Come down in the airship on the terraced roof of the kasbah under cover of night, and trust to luck to find our way to the prisoners' quarters."

"But that would be confoundedly risky, especially after you have once given the alarm in the village."

"I admit that's a nuisance, but it's perhaps not so bad as you think.

You see, the Moors know nothing-I hope they don't, at any rate-about the airship, and they won't look for intruders from the sky. The botheration is that we've lost a lot of time, and our chance is utterly dished if the Jew gets in first. Abdul says he can't be more than a day's march from the place now. That's about thirty miles, as near as I can make out. Luckily it's very rough country, so that he can't come fast. He's probably starting this very morning for his last stage; it's possible that we've already lost our chance, for he's sure to hurry, and if he gets the ear of the sheikh before nightfall, they'll be on the watch for us."

"But even without the Jew I don't see how your scheme's possible. There are sure to be extra guards at the wall, and if the night were as bright as this they couldn't help seeing the machine, and we couldn't alight without their knowledge."

"Yes; but you must allow for their ignorance and superst.i.tion. If they do see the airship swooping down on them they'll be scared out of their wits; they'll think it some monstrous evil bird straight from Gehenna--"

"Which is down below, not up aloft."

"They won't be in a state to draw distinctions of that sort. Abdul a.s.sures me that these ignorant mountaineers-he was one himself once, but travel has widened his mind!-will be in such a state of terror that they'll be for a time pretty well paralysed: and time's all we want."