Part 11 (2/2)

He started toward Ben Akbar, who was standing quietly near the far wall of the khan. Ali, who had understood none of the conversation but who knew all too clearly what Beale's gesture indicated, felt his heart catch in his throat.

He whirled toward the gate, and eyes already worried became desperate when there was no evidence of Major Wayne. Ali turned back to Lieutenant Beale, already a third of the way across the khan, and he s.h.i.+vered in terrible indecision. A camel driver did not presume to give orders to his leader!

The two young men seemed to have forgotten Ali and kept fascinated eyes on Lieutenant Beale. Ali ran forward. A camel driver did not command his chief, but neither did he let him go to certain injury and possible death.

Running up behind the officer, Ali grasped his arm. Lieutenant Beale stopped and swung about, but his eyes were questioning rather than angry, and he arched interrogatory brows.

”Well, boy?” he asked.

Ali remained speechless. Though he could have voiced a warning in Syrian or any of a dozen Arabic dialects, he did not know how to speak in a tongue Beale might understand. Presently, and happily, he found the perfect solution in one of the bits of English he had mastered but sadly misinterpreted.

The fists of a constantly brawling soldier had hammered out an unbroken string of victories. As a result, his companions trod with appropriate wariness and offered proper respect. Obviously, therefore, the name bestowed on their pugnacious brother-in-arms indicated that which was better left alone. Ali gestured toward Ben Akbar.

”Sad Sam,” he p.r.o.nounced.

”What?” Lieutenant Beale's quizzical frown became an engaging grin.

”Sad Sam,” Ali repeated.

Lieutenant Beale turned to glance at Ben Akbar. ”Sad Sam, eh? He does look a bit melancholy at that. I'll see if I can make him smile.”

Pulling away from Ali, he resumed walking toward Ben Akbar. Ali waited in his tracks, unable to think of anything else he might do. Lieutenant Beale pa.s.sed Ben Akbar's point of no return, and only Allah could help now.

Then, even as Ali drew each quick breath with a dreadful certainty that it must mark Ben Akbar's quick lunge, the _dalul_ stepped forward. He thrust his head over Lieutenant Beale's shoulder and waited in s.h.i.+vering ecstasy for his neck to be scratched.

Ali caught his breath and the look in his eyes was one of profound respect. This man was indeed to command. There would be no failure.

Major Wayne shouted suddenly, ”Ned! Watch yourself!”

Still scratching Ben Akbar's neck, Lieutenant Beale glanced toward the returning Major. ”What's up?”

”That's a killer dromedary. Didn't anybody warn you?”

”Somebody tried but I guess I didn't understand.” The look Lieutenant Beale gave Ali meant that one man recognized another. ”I won't be so stupid again,” Lieutenant Beale promised.

10. The Expedition

Ali awakened in the dim light of very early morning. For a startled moment, he reverted to old habit and lay perfectly still, for he was not at once sure as to what lay about him. Then came comprehension.

The many nights he had slept in his lean-to shelter behind the camel khan marked the longest uninterrupted period of his life ever spent in any one house. He had become accustomed to it and was momentarily bewildered to awake in unfamiliar surroundings. Then the days at Camp Verde seemed to fade away and it was as though he had never slept anywhere except on bare earth, with the sky his only roof. The fact that he was wrapped in a blanket rather than his burnous was the only difference between this and the life he had always led.

Ali preferred the burnous, but his was becoming tattered and a new burnous seemed to be almost the only article one could not hope to find in the rich markets of vast America. Putting the garment away against some vague future when nothing else would serve, Ali had taken the first step toward becoming an American by accepting American clothes.

He raised on one elbow and looked toward the corral. All was peaceful there, so he settled back down. His plan had worked.

The camels had not had enough trail work to toughen their feet, and the journey from Camp Verde to the expedition's base camp near San Antonio had necessarily been a slow one. Arriving with some sore-footed camels, in spite of a leisurely pace, the horses and mules that were also to be part of the expedition promptly took the usual violent exception to these trespa.s.sers from a far land.

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