We travelled fast all night, and overtaking the laden camels, the milch camels, and the mares, at different points, left them to come on with their escorts, while we trotted ahead as rapidly as the riding camels could go, though Haroun's horses were somewhat knocked up after their hard day's work. No regular halt was made next day, as Haroun wished to put as great a distance as possible between ourselves and Adiba, and we must have covered quite sixty miles before it was decided that we might encamp in safety, and await the arrival of the parties still in rear. The route followed was that which we had taken in the reverse direction a month or more before, when we accompanied Ali Khan to his town; but how different were the circumstances—then it was the triumphal home-coming of a great man; now, the best that could be said for it was that it resembled an ignominious flight.

Once only during that long day's ride did Ali Khan recover his spirits. It was when Haroun related the details of his fight of the day before—as bloody an encounter as perhaps the desert ever witnessed. It seems that when, towards sunset, the guns opened fire on the town, and the fresh body of horsemen issued from the enemy's position, to relieve those who had been engaged all day, Haroun welcomed their appearance on the scene. Throughout the day he had manoeuvred, as we had surmised, in such a position as to mask the fire of the guns; but his plan was twofold, and he had great hopes of being able to draw his opponents away to the trap which he had carefully prepared for them. About a mile and a half to the north-west of the town was a steep-sided watercourse, at this season devoid of water, and at a certain point the pilgrim track descended into it and out on the other side. In the bed of this watercourse Haroun, in the morning, had ordered the matchlock-men with the camels to ensconce themselves and await events. In vain he tried to break away towards the watercourse, but each time he found himself outmanoeuvred and headed back, and he began to think that his foes understood his design. When, however, in the evening, they fled from the field, and he followed in pursuit, he became hopeful of cutting them off and driving them in the required direction. But since they rode straight for the hills, he feared that if he followed he himself would be ambuscaded. His heart, therefore, gave a great leap when he saw the new arrivals riding down upon him, for he felt confident that horsemen, probably waiting for hours to be slipped from the leash, would not refuse to pursue him whithersoever he should lead them; and his judgment was not at fault.

Before the wind flew Haroun's men, driving in their spurs, and urging their tired beasts to a final effort; behind followed the exultant pursuers, overhauling their quarry at every stride, and filling the air with their victorious war-howl. Barely fifty yards separated the one party from the other, as they galloped down the incline into the bed of the ravine. Haroun, glancing to the right and left, assured himself that his camelmen were prepared, and without checking his pace, crossed the watercourse, and led his men, now in a dense mass, up through the cutting in the bank on the far side. Then commenced the fusillade of the matchlock-men, and the sound of the first shot told Haroun that the moment for decisive action had come. He pressed forward until he saw that all his party had reached the level of the plain, when, with a mighty yell, he ordered them to wheel round and descend again into the watercourse. Half way down the slope they encountered the foremost of their pursuers, attempting to force their way through the cutting, and a fierce fight ensued. Then, seized with a panic, the unfortunate men of Hayil broke back into the watercourse, where they were met by the fire of the camelmen, who had now closed round their flanks and rear, and fired into them from a distance of only a few yards. Many of the eighty or ninety had already been killed, but the others fought gallantly, and made repeated charges on the camelmen, as well as on Haroun's horsemen, who, now frenzied by the sight of blood, made use of their spears with deadly effect. Haroun gloated over the affair as he related the tale, and Ali Khan was no less delighted at the Arab's exploits; as to myself,—and I fancy that Edwards had much the same feeling,—the wholesale butchery of brave men made me positively sick. That Haroun did not do things by halves was clear; for, not content with the slaughter in the ravine, he pursued the few of the enemy who succeeded in cutting their way out, and ruthlessly slew them. As a proof of his prowess, the chief drew attention to the spears of his men, and we could see that the blood that had been spilled still clotted the tufts of ostrich feathers on each man's bamboo. Disgusted at the whole thing, we two Englishmen could hardly speak for the rest of the day; but when we discussed it afterwards, we came to the conclusion that it was not fair to judge these men according to our accepted standard. Their business was to kill, by fair means or by foul; to them the bloodshed was of no more account than the shooting of pheasants to ourselves; moreover, they knew that their enemies would not have let slip a similar opportunity.

We halted two days at our first camp, so that all the camels and horses might be assembled before we went any farther, and it was a comfort to everyone to learn from the last party that came in that there had been no sign of pursuit. Then we resumed our journey northwards, and, with all the horses and camels, made a goodly show. Day after day passed almost without incident; occasionally a small body of Bedouins was seen hovering about on our flanks, but they always made off as soon as a few of our escort rode out towards them; and at last we pitched our camp on the memorable spot, beside the lake, where, alas, Faris and I had stolen the horses—an act which I now grieved to think had been at the root of all the misfortune that had fallen on Adiba and its ruler. There we remained almost a week, as the beasts required rest and good grazing, and before we moved on again, I had grown to loathe the place.

"I wish you would cheer up a bit," remarked Edwards one evening; "you have been in the blues ever since we got here, and it is not very lively for me, especially as it is all your show, and I only came to keep you company."

"I simply cannot help it, old man," I said; "I am beastly sorry, but my conscience worries me dreadfully. If I could only go off to our poor old host, and tell him that I assisted in the stealing of his two wretched screws, I should feel ever so much better. Do you think I might?"

"Rubbish!" said Edwards. "What earthly good would it do? You cannot undo what has been done. Besides, the knowledge that he had been humbugged would only add to his sorrow. Try to look at things as he does; ascribe it all to Fate, or, if you prefer it, to the Will of Allah. Think how ripping it will be to get back to Baghdad!"

"I am not desperately keen about it," said I, "though I must confess that I would not mind a general clean up and a white man's dinner, before having another try for the Golden Girdle."

"Haven't you forgotten that miserable bauble?" said my friend. "I hoped that it had quite gone out of your mind. As far as I am concerned, I have a return ticket for Baghdad, vi Meshed Ali. My circular tour is complete, and I do not propose to break the journey at Golden Girdle Junction."

"All right," said I. "You wait till, one fine day, I walk into your house in Baghdad and tell you that I have got it."

"Then," said Edwards, laughing, "I will send for the kawas' trusty tulwar, smack your kneeling form severely, and give you the order, 'Rise, Sir Walter Henderson, Knight of the Golden Girdle.'"

"Scoffing sceptic," said I, "likewise sceptical scoffer—but here comes Haroun, and bubbling over with news, I can see. Well, sheik, what have you got to tell us?"

"Something that will amuse you in these dull times," said he. "Last night some Shammar were disturbed in the camp while trying to steal our horses, and they succeeded in getting away. Of course, we thought that they were the same men who had stolen our other horses here on the occasion that you will remember. Some of my men pursued at once, and they have just now returned with three men and their horses, which they succeeded in capturing two hours from here. Last time we lost two horses; now we have got three, so we are the better by one, and two of them are of a good breed. Come and see them."

No sooner did I see the captured horses than I recognised two out of the three as the property of Faris, and as the beasts that he and I had ridden on our visit to the seer. The horses were tied to the pegs of the Governor's tent, and the three Shammar, bound hand and foot, lay close by, awaiting sentence. I looked furtively at Haroun, wondering if he could possibly know anything, and my fear increased when I saw him shake out the contents of my own saddle-bags. There was my long-lost brush and comb, tooth-brush, underclothing, and various precious odds and ends, and I longed to seize them all up in my arms, carry them off, and purr over my old friends. Yet, I had to be most circumspect, and I dreaded lest Edwards should unwittingly give me away. A glance, however, told me that he quite understood the state of affairs. Then my discomfiture was further increased by Haroun calling to Ali Khan to look at the things, when the two turned over everything, while we explained their use.

"Some unfortunate fellow-countryman of ours," said Edwards, "must have been robbed by these scoundrels."

"So it seems," said Ali Khan, "but what I would like to know is what all you Englishmen are doing in the desert; is your country going to appropriate Arabia, as it has done, they tell me, nearly all the rest of the world."

He was in a good humour, and I saw that he was only chaffing us; so I laughingly told him that when England conquered the country, he should be proclaimed Sultan of Arabia, which appeared to please him a good deal, for he forthwith made us a present of the Ingleezee's stolen property.

"It's an ill wind, and so forth," murmured Edwards, as we bore away our treasures in triumph. "Lucky for you that Faris is not here; for after this you would never be able to induce him to believe that you were not a real live magician."

"To tell you the truth," said I, "I am beginning to think that I am. But my conscience is troubling me again; I wonder if they will slaughter those three wretched thieves. I have a kind of fellow-feeling for them. I think I shall go and intercede for them."

"Much better not," said Edwards. "It might only lead to complications; besides, as I said before, we really must try to be fatalists."

"Yes, I know," I answered, "but perhaps it has been written in the fate of those men that a foreigner shall save their necks. Of course it was vile and wicked of them to try and steal the Governor's horses, and it certainly was more vile and more wicked of them to steal the horses that Faris and I had left in the ruins; but, after all, did I not myself steal a horse and sundry water-skins?"

However, I thought that for once I would act on my own initiative, so while my companion was taking a siesta I slipped away and found Haroun, who was just going to take the thieves before the Governor. I asked him what sentence he thought they would receive, and was told that it was doubtful, but I was glad to hear that, in any case, it would not be death. Out of curiosity I went to the Governor's tent to hear him dispose of the prisoners, and I was much impressed with the trouble he took to arrive at all the facts. Haroun explained to me aside that if they were found guilty of attempting to steal from friends of their tribe, they would have their right hands cut off; otherwise they would be kept as prisoners until their tribe ransomed them, the ransom going to the men who had caught them. The trial took an immense time, but in the end Haroun proclaimed all Shammar to be his enemies, as his own tribe was a branch of the Aeniza; and Ali Khan declared that they had attempted to steal from their enemies, and would therefore remain prisoners until ransomed by their people. The next question was the amount of the ransom, and how their tribe was to be informed that they were prisoners. The Bedouins pleaded poverty, but finally suggested that if one of them were allowed to go and interview the members of the tribe, the necessary amount might be forthcoming. This course Haroun refused to allow, explaining to the Governor that it would undoubtedly lead to a powerful band of Shammar attacking the caravan, rescuing the prisoners, and probably looting everything. It was, therefore, arranged that the men should accompany us to Meshed Ali, from which place they should be permitted to communicate with their tribe.

The day after this, we started on the last week of the march to Meshed Ali, and we soon learned that a prisoner's lot was no pleasant one. Each morning the wretched thieves were brought out, with their legs and hands tied, and placed on the backs of camels; and at the end of the day's march, three grave-like holes were dug in the ground for their reception. In these they were laid, with hands tied, legs chained to pegs, and their twisted hair fastened to other pegs on either side of their heads. Neither was this all, for, in order to render escape quite impossible, sticks were laid across the graves, and on them were piled up as many weighty articles of baggage as were thought necessary, only one small breathing-hole being left over the face. I remonstrated with Haroun on this harsh treatment, but he declared that it was the invariable custom, and that they did not really mind it.

On the third day's march one of the prisoners was taken ill, and Edwards was asked to go and see him.

"Now's your chance," said I, "tell the Governor that they have all three got symptoms of small-pox or something, and had better be turned adrift. The poor devils have had quite enough punishment for a crime which, in this land, is really no crime at all."

"I will see what I can manage," said Edwards, as he went off.

When he returned later on, he said that his courage had failed him at the last moment. He had quite made up his mind to act on my suggestion, but he was afraid that Ali Khan or Haroun might know the symptoms of small-pox, and so find him out. He thought, however, that by judicious questioning he might discover what the two chiefs knew of the disease, and if he found that they knew nothing, then, the next day, he would settle with his conscience whether humanity or honesty should have the first place.

"The unfortunate man," said Edwards, "has dysentery, and is as weak as a cat. I have done this much for him: I went to Haroun and told him, without mentioning what was actually the matter, that the prisoner was very ill, and unless properly attended to might die at any moment. I pointed out that if he remained in that prison-hole he would certainly be dead before morning. Haroun, at first, went off on the old fate tack, and said he could not interfere; but when I told him that I would go and interview the Governor, he gave me leave to do what I thought best about the man. Well, the long and the short of it is that, if you do not mind, I am going to give the invalid a shakedown for the night in our tent."

"Of course I do not mind," said I.

"I thought you would not," said Edwards, "and I arranged with Haroun that, as soon as it was dark, he should come and help us bring the man over here. The only condition he made was that I would be responsible that he was handed over, dead or alive, in the morning, before we march."

Great was the astonishment of the Shammar when we took him out of his hole, and conveyed him to our tent; and when Edwards explained to him that he was to remain with us for the night, so that he might be looked after, he almost wept with gratitude. He willingly promised that he would not betray our trust in him by attempting to escape, and he swore that, if he ever recovered his health and freedom, he would find a means of repaying us for our kindness.

Little did we imagine that we were entertaining unawares, if not actually an angel, a man who, before long, would influence our every action.