“Stasch, why do we always ride without finding Smain?”

“I don’t know. Most likely he is traveling rapidly so as to lose no time in reaching the districts where he can capture the most slaves. Would you be glad if we could really join his division?”

The girl nodded her little blonde head as a sign that she was most willing.

“Why would you like it?” asked Stasch, surprised.

“Because in the presence of Smain perhaps Gebhr would not dare beat this poor Kali so terribly.”

“Probably Smain is no better. None of them has any mercy for their slaves.”

“Yes, you are right.”

And tears flowed down her wan cheeks. This was the ninth day of the journey. Gebhr, who was now the leader of the caravan, at first found a few traces of Smain’s march. Stretches of burned jungle and places where he had camped, crunched bones, and various discarded material marked his route.

Five days later they came to a wide steppe, where the wind had carried the fire in every direction. The traces were indistinct and confusing, for Smain had apparently divided his company into several small groups in order to facilitate cornering the game and obtaining provisions. Gebhr did not know which direction to take, and it often seemed as if the caravan had traveled around in a circle, returning to the same place from which it started. Then they came upon woods, and after having traveled through them, they entered a rocky country, where the ground was covered with flat slabs or small level stones, that for some distance were strewn so thickly that they reminded the children of the roads in town. The vegetation was scanty. Only here and there, in the clefts of the rocks, grew euphorbias, mimosas, and rarer and slimmer pale green trees, which Kali, in the Ki-swahili language, called “m’ti.” The horses were fed with the leaves of these trees. In this land there were very few small rivers and streams, but fortunately it rained now and then, and there was sufficient water in the cavities and clefts of the rocks.

Smain’s party had frightened off the game, and the caravan would have died of hunger had it not been for a number of Pentaren birds that flew into the air every second from between the horses’ feet. Toward evening the trees were so full of them that one had only to shoot in their direction to bring some of them down, and they served for food. Besides, they were not shy, for they let people approach them, and were so clumsy and heavy in preparing for flight that Saba, who generally ran in advance of the caravan, caught and killed some of them nearly every day. Chamis killed a number of these birds with his old flintlock musket that he had stolen from one of the Dervishes under Hatim, on the road from Omdurman to Fashoda. But he only had enough shot for twenty cartridges, and he felt very much worried when he thought of what would happen when they were used up. Notwithstanding the game had been frightened away, they occasionally saw herds of gazels, a beautiful species of antelope which is found all over central Africa. These animals, however, could only be shot, and the men did not know how to use Stasch’s gun, and Gebhr would not give it to him.

But the Sudanese also began to be worried about the length of time they were on the way. Sometimes he even thought of returning to Fashoda, for if they were to miss Smain they might get lost in the wilderness and not only suffer from hunger, but be in danger of attack by wild animals and still wilder negroes, who vowed vengeance on account of having been hunted for slaves. But as he did not know that Seki Tamala had undertaken an expedition against Emin Pasha, because he had not been present when the conversation on that subject had taken place, he was alarmed at the thought of appearing before the powerful emir, who had ordered him to bring the children to Smain, and who had given him a letter to take to him, threatening that if he did not execute his orders faithfully he would be hanged. All this combined to fill his heart with bitterness and rage. Though he did not dare to vent his disappointments on Stasch and Nell, poor Kali’s back was daily covered with blood from being beaten with the scourge. The slave always approached his cruel master in fear and trembling. But in vain did he clasp him by the feet and kiss his hands, and fall on his face before him. Neither humility nor groans softened the stony heart; for on the slightest pretext, and sometimes without any provocation at all, the scourge tore the flesh of the unhappy boy. During the night his feet were chained to a piece of wood with two holes in it, so that he could not run away. During the daytime he walked alongside of Gebhr’s horse, attached to it by a rope, which greatly amused Chamis. Nell shed tears for poor Kali. Stasch revolted in his heart, and often valiantly championed Kali, but when he noticed that this annoyed Gebhr still more he simply clenched his teeth and was silent.

Kali perceived that they both sympathized with him, and he began to grow very fond of them.

For two days they had ridden through a rocky ravine enclosed by high, steep rocks. From the stones which had collected in the wildest confusion it could plainly be seen that the ravine was filled with water during the rainy season, but now the ground was quite dry. On both sides, up against the cliffs, grew a little grass, a great many thorns, and here and there even a few trees. Gebhr had ridden into this stony gorge because it continually went up hill and he thought it would lead to some height from which, by day, it would be easier to see the smoke and by night the flames of Smain’s camp-fire. In some places the ravine became so narrow that only two horses could walk abreast, while in others it expanded into small circular valleys enclosed on all sides by high stone walls, on which sat large apes, that played with one another, and on seeing the caravan barked and showed their teeth.

It was five o’clock in the afternoon. The sun was already low in the west. Gebhr had begun to think of their night quarters. He was hoping to reach a small valley, in which he could erect a zareba—to surround the caravan and the horses with a hedge of prickly mimosas and acacias, to protect them from being attacked by wild beasts. Saba ran in advance, barking at the monkeys, which, on seeing him, moved about restlessly, and he disappeared time and again in the windings of the ravine, his loud barks being repeated by the echoes.

Suddenly Saba became silent. Soon after he came up at a gallop, the hair on his back bristling, his tail down, and ran up to the horses. The Bedouins and Gebhr knew at once that something must have frightened him, but after they had looked around questioningly they continued on their way to investigate the reason. But when they had passed a small bend they reined in their horses, and for a moment remained as if rooted to the spot at the sight that presented itself before them.

On a large rock in the middle of the ravine, which was fairly broad at this place, lay a lion. They could not have been more than a hundred feet from him. As soon as the powerful animal saw the riders and horses he rose on his hind legs and stared at them with gleaming eyes. The rays of the setting sun shone on his enormous head and shaggy breast, and in this red light he resembled one of those sphinxes that ornament the entrances to the ancient Egyptian temples.

The frightened horses began to rear, turn around, and prance backward. The astonished and terrified riders did not know what to do, and frightened and perplexed, cried out as with one voice: “Allah! Bismillah! Allah Akbar!”

The desert king, motionless as bronze, surveyed them from head to foot.

Gebhr and Chamis had heard from merchants who had brought ivory and rubber from Sudan to Egypt that lions sometimes obstruct the route, and that the only thing for a caravan to do is to make a detour around the beast. But now they were in a place from which there was no means of exit but to turn back and run away, and then it was almost certain that the terrible beast would follow them.

Once more the feverish question was asked:

“What is to be done?”

“Allah! Perhaps he will back out!”

“He will not move out of the way.”

There was a dead silence. Not a sound could be heard except the snorting of the horses and the rapid breathing of the party.

“Loose Kali from the rope,” suddenly said Chamis to Gebhr, “and we will escape on the horses; then the lion will catch him first, and he will be the only one slain.”

“Yes, yes, do so!” replied the Bedouins.

But Gebhr thought Kali would immediately climb up the side of the cliff, while the lion would make a bee-line for the horses. With this in his mind another idea, still more terrible, flashed upon him. He would kill the slave and throw him behind him—then if the beast were to follow them he would see the bloody body lying on the ground and stop to devour it.

So he drew Kali by the rope nearer to his saddle, and had already raised his knife—when Stasch caught hold of him by his wide sleeve:

“Villain, what are you doing?”

Gebhr tried to tear himself loose, and if the boy had caught hold of the arm itself he would have been shaken off at once, but as he had hold of the sleeve, it was not so easy, and while Gebhr tried to tear himself loose he gesticulated and cried in a voice thick with rage:

“Dog, if that one is not sufficient, I will stab you, too. Allah! I will stab you, stab you!”

Stasch became white as a ghost. Like a flash of lightning he thought that if the lion should follow the horses he might in the pursuit overlook Kali’s body, and in that case Gebhr would certainly stab them all, one after the other.

Pulling Gebhr’s sleeve with increased energy, Stasch screamed out:

“Give me the rifle and I will kill the lion!”

The Bedouins were speechless from surprise at these words, but Chamis, who in Port Said had seen how well Stasch could shoot, immediately cried out:

“Give him the gun! He will kill the lion!”

Gebhr also recalled the shooting at Karoon Lake, and in face of their terrible danger he at once ceased to make further resistance, and hastily handed the gun to the boy, while Chamis hurriedly opened the cartridge case, from which Stasch took out a handful.

The boy jumped off his horse, shoved the cartridges into the barrel of the gun, and advanced. While taking his first steps forward he felt stunned, and pictured himself and Nell with their throats cut from ear to ear by Gebhr’s knife. But soon the imminent and terrible danger they were in made him oblivious to everything else. A lion was before him! When he first caught sight of the beast everything became black before his eyes. His cheeks and nose felt icy cold, his legs grew heavy as lead, and his breath threatened to give out. In short, he was frightened! In Port Said he always preferred to read something else rather than stories of lion hunts, but it is one thing to look at pictures in a book and another thing to stand face to face with a monster such as now looked at him in surprise while drawing up its broad, shield-like forehead.

The Arabs were breathless, for never in their lives had they seen anything like this. On one side a small boy, who, in contrast to the high rock, looked still smaller, and on the other a powerful beast, shining like gold in the rays of the sun, magnificent, threatening, really a “Lord with a large head,” as the Sudanese call him.

Stasch’s iron will quickly controlled his trembling limbs, and he advanced still further. It seemed to him as if his heart were in his throat, until he put up the gun to take aim. Now was the time to have one’s wits about one! Should he go still nearer or fire from where he stood? Where should he aim? The shorter the distance the surer the shot! So he went still nearer, he advanced forty steps— Still too far off!—thirty!—twenty! The wind now brought to him the strong scent of the wild animal——

The boy stopped.

“A ball between the eyes, or I am lost!” thought he. “In the name of the Father and of the Son——”

The lion got up, stretched himself, and lowered his head. His mouth began to open and his eyes to narrow. Who was this tiny being that dared come so near? Ready to spring, he crouched on his hind legs, his paws slightly twitching——

At this instant Stasch sighted the gun straight at the middle of the animal’s forehead—and pulled the trigger. The shot resounded. The lion reared—rose to his full height—fell over on his back with his four paws in the air, and in his death agony rolled off the rock, plunging down to the bottom of the ravine.

For a few minutes Stasch still kept him within range of the gun, but when he saw that the twitching had ceased, and that the yellow body lay there motionless and stiff, he opened the gun and put in another cartridge.

The walls of the cliffs still rang out with loud echoes. Gebhr, Chamis, and the Bedouins could not at first realize what had happened, for it had rained during the previous night, and on account of the humidity in the air the smoke hid everything in the narrow ravine. But when it disappeared they shouted for joy and tried to rush up to the boy, but their efforts were in vain, for no power on earth could force the horses to take even one step forward.

Stasch turned, took in the four Arabs at a glance, and fixed his eyes on Gebhr.

“Enough!” he said, clenching his teeth together. “The measure is more than full. You shall murder neither Nell nor any one else.”

And suddenly he felt his cheeks and nose again grow cold, but this was a different kind of cold—not caused by fright, but by a terrible, fixed resolve, that suddenly hardened his heart like steel.

“Yes, it must be!” he said to himself. “They are all villains, hangmen, murderers—and Nell is in their hands!”

“You shall not kill her!” he repeated.

He approached them—and drew back a pace—then suddenly raised the gun to his shoulder.

Two shots, following in quick succession, echoed through the ravine! Gebhr fell to the ground like a bag of sand. Chamis leaned forward in his saddle and struck the horse’s neck with his bloody forehead.

The two Bedouins screamed with fright, and springing from their horses, rushed at Stasch. The bend in the ravine was directly behind them, and had they fled there, as Stasch ardently hoped, they would have been able to escape death. But blinded by fear and rage, they thought to reach the boy and stab him before he had time to reload. Fools! They had scarcely gone a few steps when the trigger clicked again. The ravine rang with the echoes of the shots and both men fell face downward to the ground, wriggling like fish out of water.

One of them was shot in the throat and not very dangerously wounded; he rose again and supported himself on his hands, but at the same moment Saba buried his teeth in his neck.

Dead silence ensued.

This was interrupted by groans from Kali, who on his knees with outstretched hands screamed in disjointed Ki-swahili sentences:

“Bwana Kubwa!^[16] Kill the lion! Kill the bad people! But do not kill Kali!”

Stasch did not listen to his cries. For a while he stood there as in a daze. Then he saw Nell’s pale little face and her frightened, wide-open, wondering eyes. Springing toward her, he cried:

“Don’t be afraid, Nell! We are free, Nell!”

True, they were free, but free in the midst of a wild, uninhabited solitude, lost in the heart of the black country.

Through the Desert