By Far Euphrates A Tale 18

By Far Euphrates A Tale 18

Just as they rode on, the glorious sun shot up with tropical splendour

and tropical swiftness. It was late September now; the heat was still

great, and the travellers were not sorry when at last they saw in the

distance the black huts of Charmelik, the walls of the khan, and the

minaret of the little mosque. Shushan, in spite of her fatigue, seemed

to have changed places with Jack. She planned and exhorted; he listened

to her meekly. For fighting, the Englishman comes to the front; for

feigning, the Armenian. "Now, I pray of you, Yon Effendi--that is,

Shack--remember, you are not to speak; and also, which is harder, you

are not to _hear_--not if a pistol goes off close to your head. You may

talk to me by signs, or on your fingers."

 

Jack gave his promise; and, as both their lives depended on it, he was

likely to keep it. At first they thought the khan might be safer to stay

in than the huts, but a caravan from Urfa had just stopped there, and

both the open enclosure and the rooms round it (if rooms they may be

called) were quite full. Moreover, the Kourds of the village came about

them with welcomes and questions and offers of hospitality. So Jack

gathered from their looks and gestures. He stood among them, gazing

about him with as vacant an __EXPRESSION__ of face as he could manage to

assume, only praying they might not be rough with Shushan, for such a

set of wild-looking savages, as he thought, he had never seen before;

although, of course, since coming to the country, he had seen many

Kourds.

 

After a while Shushan touched him, and motioned to him to come with her.

One of the Kourds led them to a hut; and, as it appeared by his looks

and gestures, invited them to consider it their own mansion, with the

same magnificent air with which a Spanish grandee might have said, "This

is your own house, señor."

 

As soon as he had attended to their horses and brought in the saddle

cloths, Jack surveyed the miserable hovel--some twelve feet in diameter,

and with no furniture save a couple of dirty mats and cushions--and

wished with all his heart for a decent English pig-stye!

 

"You _must_ get a sleep, Shushan," he said aloud. "But how I am ever to

make you comfortable here----"

 

"_Hush!_" Shushan breathed rather than spoke, with a warning hand laid

upon his arm.

 

"Well?" said Jack, speaking low, but surprised at her evident alarm.

 

She pointed to the one little unglazed hole in the mud wall that served

as a window. "They sit under that, and listen," she said. "I know their

ways."

 

After that, only low whispers were exchanged. A meal of pillav, with

kabobs (little pieces of roast meat), was served to them by their hosts,

who were presently--as Shushan ascertained with much relief--going in a

body to some neighbouring vineyard, to cut grapes.

 

When they had finished eating, Jack spread the two horse cloths for

Shushan, and exhorted her to lie down and sleep. He thought he was far

too anxious to do so himself. He sat up manfully near the door, with his

back against the wall, for fear of a sudden surprise; but nature in the

end was too strong for him, and even in that unrestful position she

managed to steep his senses in a profound slumber.

 

 

 

 

Chapter XII

 

THE USE OF A REVOLVER

 

"So let it be. In God's own Might

We gird us for the coming fight."

 

--_Whittier._

 

 

It was Shushan who awoke her guardian, near the going down of the sun.

"Shack," she whispered, "let us get the horses and begone. I like not

the looks of these people. Some of them have come back from the

vineyard; and I saw them looking in at the window, and whispering."

 

Jack shook himself. "So I have slept," he said, surprised. "I did not

mean it. What time is it?"

 

They ate of the provisions they had with them, went together to make

ready the horses, bestowed some silver on their hosts, and rode away. As

soon as they were really off, Jack asked Shushan if she thought the

Kourds were content with their backsheesh.

 

"Oh yes, content enough," she said. "Still, I do not like their looks.

Let us ride on, as fast as we can."

 

They had some hard riding over the bare, burned-up ground, where not a

blade of grass or a leaf of any green thing was to be seen; and then

they came again to a mountain gorge. The sun had gone down now--a great

relief, for it had been very hot. Shushan, who had scarcely slept at

all, was suffering much from fatigue; and though she tried to answer

cheerfully when Jack spoke to her, she was evidently depressed and

anxious. He asked tenderly what was troubling her.

 

"Nothing," she said,--"nothing, at least, that I ought to mind. This

morning one of those Kourds asked me if we had come down from the

mountains to help in killing the Giaours, and to get some of their

goods. I asked, why we should kill them when they have done us no harm.

And they asked me again where I had come from that I did not know it was

the will of Allah and the Sultan, and that the true Believers, who

helped in the holy work, were to have their gold and silver and all they

possessed. Then they began a story that made my blood run cold--I will

not tell it thee. But, Shack, I fear the worst--especially for my people

in Biridjik."

 

"Let us ride on," said Jack, after a sorrowful pause. "It will not do

for us to stop and think. And certainly not here."

 

The darkness, or rather the soft half-darkness, of the starry Eastern

night had fallen over them quickly, like a veil. And now they were

getting among the mountains, and the wretched track called a road was

growing more and more indistinct. Presently they entered another narrow

gorge, deeper and gloomier than the one before Charmelik. But for their

dependence on their sure-footed horses, they never could have faced it,

so narrow was the level track, so steep the precipice below, so dark and

frowning the heights on either side above them.

 

But even the horses seemed to get puzzled. The track became fainter and

more broken, until at last the travellers found themselves on sloping

ground where it was hard to secure a foothold.

 

Not all Shushan's self-command could keep back a little frightened cry:

"I shall fall! Hold me, Shack!"

 

Jack turned to help her, heard the slip of a horse's foot in the dry,

loose clay, and for one awful moment thought both were lost. However,

foothold was regained somehow; and Shushan's fervent "Park Derocha!"

gave him strength to breathe again and to look about him. He saw

distinctly before them another gorge, crossing almost at right angles

the one beneath them, and cutting off their path, as it seemed to him.

How were they to traverse it? How had it been done before, when he rode

in hot haste with the zaptiehs and the Post, or back again, with Kevork?

 

And where was the path itself, from which they had wandered--he knew not

how far? Great Jupiter shone above them, bright enough to outline their

forms in shadow on the bare brown earth; and, looking carefully, he had

light to discern a narrow, crooked thread of white winding some thirty

feet below their standing place. He pointed to it. "We must get back,"

he said.

 

Shushan drew her breath hard, and looked, not at the perilous slope, but

at _him_. "Yes," she said. Jack would have proposed to dismount, trust

to their feet, and let the horses follow, but he knew it was not best.

He knew too that he must restrain his longing to take Shushan's bridle

and lead her horse--_that_ was not best either. How she held on he did

not know, nor did she know herself.

 

They were getting down the steep incline with less difficulty than they

expected, and had nearly regained the path, when Shushan cried out

suddenly, "Shack, I hear shouts." In another moment horse and rider both

were on the ground. Jack could not tell until the end of his life what

happened next, or what he did, until he found himself sitting on the

path with Shushan's head in his lap, seeing nothing but her face, white

through its dark staining. Her horse had narrowly escaped slipping down

into the gorge, but had found his feet somehow, and now stood beside

Jack's, gazing solemnly at the two dismounted riders.

 

Happily, Jack had his flask in his wide sash. He got at it, sprinkled

Shushan's face with the water, and put some between her lips. After a

few moments--it seemed like an age--she looked up. He began to lavish

tender words and caresses upon her, asking anxiously if she was hurt,

but she stopped him quickly.

 

"Oh, what does it matter?" she said. "Listen, Shack!"

 

He had been deaf as well as blind to all except her state. Now he

listened. The mountain echoes rang with wild, discordant shouts.

 

"The Kourds! They are pursuing us," said Shushan, sitting up. Terror had

restored her senses more rapidly than all the arts of love could have

done.

 

"Another set of them?" asked Jack, bewildered.

 

"No. The Kourds of Charmelik," said Shushan in a frightened whisper. "I

feared it. They heard us speak, and knew we were no Kourds." Even in

that moment's agony she said "heard us speak," as Jack remembered

afterwards,--lest he should blame himself.

 

"I will run round the corner, and look," he said. "Do you fear a moment

alone, my Shushan?"

 

"No; but take care. Keep under cover of the hill."

 

Jack ran to a turn that gave him a view of the road from Charmelik. As

far as he could see along the track no creature was visible. But high up

on the hill he saw dark forms, descending, doubtless by some goat-track

known to themselves alone. They could reach Shushan almost as soon as he

could.

 

He tore back to her, possessed with the thought that he would set her on

horseback, and make a race for it. But when he came near, he saw their

horses had moved away, and were both out of sight.

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