Part 17 (1/2)

Through a pregnant instant of silence they confronted one another. Then Aylmer spurred forward with a shout.

”Don't let them escape!” he roared. ”A hundred dollars to the man who takes him!”

The two fugitives turned and ran desperately down the path, seeking wildly for an opening in the surrounding jungle. Surprise and terror appeared to have dazed them, for they pa.s.sed several avenues of escape heedlessly, made half-hearted attempts to turn, and still blundered on between the caging walls of green. Aylmer thundered behind them, drawing nearer with every stride. He leaned forward in the saddle; his arm reached out within a yard of Landon's flying draperies; he spurred fiercely into his horse's flanks.

The two men leaped right and left into the green thicket as divers leap into the blue. And in the same instant something rose out of the earth--something thin, snake-like, starting suddenly into being, as it were, from the concealing smother of the dust into a rigid line knee high. Aylmer's horse stumbled, shot forward, and went down heavily. His rider was flung far beyond him, moved spasmodically once, and then lay still. The squadron of charging hors.e.m.e.n were trapped in their turn. Not one escaped. The goad of Aylmer's bribe had sent every man of them charging in the wake of his leaders.h.i.+p. The taut-held rope accounted for them all, or for all save one. Absalaam, a consummate horseman, reined in on the brink of disaster, rearing his stallion high into the air.

The road was an inferno of yelling men and blood-stained horses.

The few Moors who were not stunned and incapacitated by their fall had to endure the perils of half a hundred wildly struggling hoofs. Scarcely six out of the score who had thundered so carelessly after their easy quarry fought a way for themselves out of the melee unharmed.

And of those six there was not one who did not come to a sudden halt with uplifted fingers as they gained the open road. A revolver barrel was pointed at each man's breast.

Ten or a dozen men had emerged from the thicket. They used no words; their fingers, significantly pressed upon the triggers, were eloquent enough. Only one spoke--Landon, who strolled slowly and panting a little into the circle which the menace of his underlings had formed.

He halted opposite Claire Van Arlen.

”Eh, sister-in-law!” he chuckled smilingly.

Her face was white, but her hand, which gripped the reins, was steady.

And her gaze burnt upon his face in loathing and contempt.

”Rather neat?” said Landon, amiably. ”I plume myself. My resources were limited, you see. I may congratulate myself upon having used them to the very best advantage.”

Still she was silent and still her eyes flung him their message of hate. He gave a pleasant little laugh. He made a significant jerk of the head in the direction of the chaos behind him.

”And the virtuous cousin,” he said. ”What a fall is there, is there not?

A hundred dollars! He actually appraised my poor liberty so high!”

For a moment the expression in her glance changed as she turned it in the direction of the still struggling horses and their riders. He saw it and laughed again.

”You divide your anxieties,” he said. ”Let me relieve you of one!”

He stretched out his hand and laid it gently upon his son's shoulder.

”Are you coming with your father--to ride the black horse upon the sands?” he asked.

The child looked at him debatingly. His face lit up at the question, and then shadowed again as he turned his glance upon the motionless white figure on the mule beside him.

”Auntie won't have it--and Selim,” he deplored.

”Won't they?” said Landon, good-humoredly. ”I think they will.”

He stared up in the girl's face with insolent satisfaction.

”In fact,” he went on, ”they've got to. Vulgarly, my boy, they may not like it, so they must lump it.”

He made a gesture of command.