CHAPTER X.

THE DESERT RIDE.

THE Arabs, even the Bedouins, are not a merciless race. Beyond taking away every article of jewellery, three silver watches, a few coins, and the gun, which they thought the best part of the spoil, the Shararat robbers inflicted no injury on their captives. The sons of the desert were puzzled as to what to do with their prize.

The two Hartleys, indeed, could be made something of, for they were evidently strong, vigorous, and active; but the women, one old and the other fragile, seemed likely to be of no use at all. They could neither weave camel's hair nor help to pitch tents; it was doubtful whether they could even skin a sheep and cook it. Would it not be best to leave them behind? But to do so would be to abandon them to inevitable death by hunger and thirst. Though the chief, glancing at Grace Evendale, remarked that it would be easier to make a mashale (water-skin) out of muslin than anything useful out of her, he yet resolved to take her behind him on his camel, and he gave orders to his wild followers to dispose in the same way of the Feringhees (English), putting the mother and child together, such being to him the relationship between Miss Petty and Shelah.

The camels from which the Bedouins had dismounted were at hand, some kneeling to receive their burdens, some standing and throwing long shadows over the sand. An Arab, grasping Miss Petty's arm with one hand and Shelah's shoulder with the other, half dragged them towards his kneeling beast. In spite of tears and entreaties, the Bedouin forced the prisoners to mount, he himself taking his seat in front. Theresa and Shelah's knowledge of camels was small indeed, the only living specimens of the race which they had ever seen, except at Alexandria, having been in the Zoological Gardens in London. The horrible noise made by the huge creature when in the act of being loaded, the way in which he twisted his long neck to show his wide mouth and formidable teeth, filled both Miss Petty and Shelah with terror.

"Oh, I can't stop on this horrible beast; he is growling like a tiger! He will bite me! He will kill me!" expostulated Miss Petty, her entreaties changed to a scream as the camel suddenly rose and, by the tremendous jerk with which he did so, almost threw her off his back.

The motion of a camel has been likened to that which would be felt by one perched on a music-stool unscrewed to its utmost height, and drawn along in a cart without springs. Miss Petty implored the Arab to stop the beast, jerking out her words, as the jolting almost deprived her of power of speech. But she might as well have spoken to the camel itself. The Bedouin did not understand her words, nor would have cared for them had he understood. Little Shelah was sobbing, her spirit for a while subdued by fear and physical distress, for every mile of that terrible journey made the heat, and thirst, and fatigue, which she endured, more painful to the poor child.

And what of the other captives? What was the effect upon them of their sudden and startling adventure?

Harold met the misfortune as a brave man and a Christian should do. He saw hardship and danger before him, but the one was a thing to be calmly endured, the other fearlessly faced. He was a crusader, prepared for perilous service, a knight of the Cross, and it was not for him to choose his own post; if his Commander appointed that he should serve and suffer in Arabia instead of India, it was not for him to question that Leader's wisdom or goodness.

Harold, mounted on a tall camel, and journeying over what seemed to him to be a pathless desert, was calmly revolving in his mind how it might be possible to do mission work even amongst Bedouin Arabs, to whom, under ordinary circumstances, no herald of the Gospel might have access. True, Harold had not much knowledge of the Arabic language, but he would have opportunity for acquiring more; an open door was before him, it was not for a Knight of St. John to shrink from crossing the threshold, even should martyrdom lie beyond. Harold had been committing to memory a portion of St. John's First Epistle in Arabic; he had, by steady toil, reached the fourteenth verse of the second chapter, and the last clause in that verse was as a special message of encouragement to him: "I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong, and the Word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the wicked one."

Harold Hartley was strong in faith: he had, indeed, fallen back in his school-boy days; the pride of life had then chilled his missionary zeal, and he had, in the excitement of an election, even made a personal attack on a political opponent who had provoked him, and so had got into serious trouble. But that fall had been a turning-point in the life of Harold.

During his college career, malice itself could not find a stain on the character of young Hartley. He had passed through temptations—and had overcome them; he had been looked upon by the religiously disposed fellows of his college as a leader in all that was good. Harold's faith was already as gold tried in the fire; he wore the white cross unstained.

Robin was a great deal younger than his brother, and, partly from his youth, partly from the joyous buoyancy of his spirits, the lad did not take nearly as serious a view of the situation of affairs as was taken by Harold. Had he not felt some anxiety regarding his widowed friend, Robin would have been inclined to regard the capture of the party as a very exciting and amusing adventure. It was something to be talked over and laughed over in future days; for Robin, full of hope as well as of daring, felt no doubt that the strange captivity, which had overtaken him and his companions, would be of but brief duration. Robin did not calculate, he simply hoped; for Robin was naturally full of hope as well as of daring.

What was misery to Theresa Petty was, at first, little more than a frolic to Robin Hartley. The jolting, which had the effect of making her scream, had but the effect of making him laugh. This was Robin's first camel ride, but he hoped to have many others. "I am practising for itinerating in India amongst the villages with my father and brother," thought Robin to himself. He shouted out words of encouragement to the weeping Lammikin, who was in front at no great distance, and bade Miss Petty keep a good heart.

Grace Evendale's position was different from that of the rest of the party; she had less physical strength than the others, and the heat of the sun, constantly increasing as the day advanced, was deadly to the delicate lady; she was withering even as a flower withers under the fiery beams. The rough motion of the camel also greatly tried Mrs. Evendale's sensitive frame, and caused her acute suffering. Yet the meek Christian was not really unhappy, though she felt that the end of the painful journey would probably be the grave.

Mrs. Evendale thought, "Is this like the angel's smiting of Peter, to make him rise and gird himself, and go forth to freedom? Is the messenger at hand who calls to the banquet of heaven? If so—he is welcome, in whatever guise he come. The Lord has borne me through greater trials than I ever can go through again, and His love will surely support me through this."

Grace thought as calmly of the possibility of perishing by heat and thirst as she would have submitted to some painful operation which was to give her future ease. All her best treasures were in heaven already; it would be no affliction to rejoin them. Mrs. Evendale's experience was that which a poet has expressed in the exquisite lines—

"Peace, perfect peace,—with sorrow surging round, On Jesu's bosom only calm is found.

"Peace, perfect peace; the future all unknown, Jesus we know, and He is on the throne."

The storm may rage around, but how calmly and safely the true believer rests under the extended wing, the downy feathers of love!

On, on, proceeded the party at the tedious pace of about four miles an hour. They were crossing an utterly desolate waste, where, except a few withered-looking lizards, and once, at some distance, a jerboa, no animal life was to be seen. There was hardly any trace of vegetation. The shadows of the camels grew shorter and shorter, till they seemed to disappear altogether under an almost vertical sun. The mouths of all the travellers were parched with thirst; Miss Petty could only moan out, "Water! Water!" And even that cry was unheeded. Robin had ceased to have the slightest inclination to jest; the sufferings of all were only too real, for the water-skins hung loose and empty by the side of each camel.

After a weary time the huge animals broke into a rough trot, as if they scented water. The Arabs roused up from what appeared to be sleep or stupor.

"I see some trees!" cried Robin. "Low, stunted ones, hardly worthy of the name!"

These, on nearer approach, were seen to be a species of euphorbia, near which some colocynth herbs and a little almost dried-up grass showed that something like a spring must be near. The thirsty camels now increased their speed over what was now a stony and blackish plain. Water had been reached at last.

The Bedouins dismounted from their clumsy beasts, and the Hartley brothers sprang down also, and helped the almost fainting women and Shelah to descend from the backs of the camels. The huge animals were turned lose to graze; there was no danger of their wandering from the wretched oasis where they might glean the scantiest of meals from thorny bushes.

From shallow wells, half choked up with stones, the Bedouins commenced replenishing their mashales, after first satisfying their thirst, but the supply was scanty, and the water brackish. Eagerly, before even wetting his own lips, Robin carried some of the water to Mrs. Evendale, who was lying on the ground exhausted. Her parched lips opened to receive the life-giving fluid, and a faint "Thank God!" followed the scanty draught.

There was a halt at this place for some hours. Almost every one slept, but Grace Evendale was unable to do so, she was too feverish and ill. Her refreshment was silent prayer, and the heart's unvoiced hymn, which could be heard only by God. Then came the shivering chill of fever. The lady felt like a dying woman when the Bedouins, rising from their siesta, prepared themselves for a start.

The water-skins had been partially, very partially replenished. A few dried dates were brought out, and partaken of by all but the suffering widow. The groaning camels were then made to kneel, and were remounted. The terrible journey must not be delayed, for many and many a weary mile of desert had to be traversed before the weary party could meet with another well.