Part 13 (1/2)

”Why are we waiting?” she asked.

”Because I was tired,” he answered.

”Are you rested?” she asked.

”Yes,” he answered.

”Then let us go on,” she said.

They rode on, hope sustaining Abdullah, and love sustaining Nicha, for she knew nothing but love.

Then, after eight hours, on the edge of the desert appeared a little cloud, no larger than a man's hand.

Abdullah roused himself with effort. He watched the cloud resolve itself into a ma.s.s of green, into waving palms--then he knew that Zama was before him, and that the march was ended.

He turned and spoke to the girl. They had not spoken for hours.

”Beloved,” he said, ”a half-hour, and we reach rest.”

She did not answer. She was asleep upon her saddle.

”Thank Allah,” said Abdullah, and they rode on.

Suddenly the trees of the oasis were blotted out. A yellow cloud of dust rolled in between them and the travellers, and Abdullah said to himself, ”It is he whom I seek--it is He who Keeps Goats.”

II

They met. In the midst of threescore goats whose feet had made the yellow cloud of dust was a man, tall, gaunt, dressed in the garb of the desert, and burned by the sun as black as a Soudanese.

”Ah, my son,” he cried, in French, when he was within distance, ”you travel light this time. Whom have you with you, another mistress, or, at last, a wife?”

”Hush,” said Abdullah, ”she is a little damsel who has ridden twelve leagues and is cruel tired.”

”G.o.d help her,” said the man of the goats; ”shall I give her some warm milk--there is plenty?”

”No,” said Abdullah; ”let us go to thy house,” and the goats, at the whistle of their master, turned, and followed the camels under the palms of the oasis of Zama.

They halted before a little hut, and Abdullah held up his hand. The camels stopped and kneeled. The girl did not move. Abdullah ran to her, took her in his arms, lifted her, turned, entered the hut, pa.s.sed to the inner room, laid her upon a low couch, beneath the window, put away her veil, kissed her hand, not her lips, and came out.

In the outer room he found his host. Upon the table were some small cheeses, a loaf of bread, a gourd of milk. Abdullah fell upon the food.

”Well, my son,” said his host, after Abdullah began to pick and choose, ”what brings you to me?”

”This,” said Abdullah, and he felt in his bosom, and drew out the invoice of his pa.s.senger.

His host took from a book upon the table a pair of steel-bowed spectacles--the only pair in the Sahara. He placed the bow upon his nose, the curves behind his ears, snuffed the taper with his fingers, took the invoice from Abdullah, and read. He read it once, looked up, and said nothing. He read it a second time, looked up, and said: ”Well, what of it?”

”Is it legal?” asked Abdullah.

”Doubtless,” said his host, ”since it is a hiring, merely, not a sale; and it is to be executed in Biskra, which is under the French rule.”