The funeral took place next morning, as is the native custom, and it was during the great gathering of the Sheikh’s friends that the adherents of the opposing faction made their feared coup. The event, and its serious consequences for Muriel and Daniel, was upon them so quickly that there was no time for preparation or retreat.

Muriel had not gone to the funeral, and she was sitting quietly writing in the living-room when Daniel flung open the door.

“Quick!” he said. “Get ready to start at once. Leave your dressing-case: you just want your water-bottle and a tin or two of food from the cupboard. We’ve got to ride like the wind. I’m just going to get the camels.”

She stared at him in amazement as he hastened away, and thought how extremely inconsiderate he was; but the realization that her extraordinary fortnight with him was now at an end led her to obey his instructions with alacrity. She was soon ready, but for some time she waited impatiently for his reappearance.

At last he came in, this time slowly and with careful serenity.

“I’m afraid the journey’s off,” he said.

Muriel was angry, and she tapped her foot sharply on the floor. “Oh, you’re impossible!” she exclaimed. “I’m all ready to start, and now you say you’re not going.”

He looked at her gravely and steadily for a moment, and then very calmly he told her what had occurred. While IbrahÎm and those of his adherents who had not gone to El Khargeh were attending the funeral, the rival faction had seized every camel and donkey in the Oasis, for of the former more than half the number owned by the inhabitants had gone with the caravan. They had disarmed the village ghaffirs, or guards, they had proclaimed their own chief as Sheikh of the Oasis, and they had picketed every track leading out into the desert and to the lands beyond.

Daniel had found his and Muriel’s camel gone from the stable, and he had encountered a group of “enemy” leaders who had informed him that he would not be permitted to communicate with the outside world for several days.

“Their idea,” he explained, lighting his pipe, “is to get their man firmly established in power before the police hear of it, and then it will be a fait accompli. It is to be a peaceful revolution, without bloodshed if possible; but I don’t suppose they will hesitate to shoot anybody who tries to get away. So, you see, we’re caught.”

Muriel received the news calmly. According to the time-table the Bindanes would return to El Homra tomorrow or the next day, and then, if she had not made her reappearance, they would probably send her dragoman and a trooper or two to fetch her. But Daniel pointed out that three days might elapse before these men arrived, and two weeks before the authorities in Egypt could give instructions. Moreover, their coming might lead to an awkward situation for himself and her.

“You see, they know that I will support IbrahÎm’s claim,” he said, puffing quietly at his pipe, “for I promised his father I would do so; and if an unfortunate accident could account for you and me, it would be all the better for them. Supposing, for example, you and I were found to have gone out hunting, and to have lost our way, and to have fallen over a cliff or something of that kind, there would be nobody much to uphold IbrahÎm against a rival already established in office.”

Daniel did not take his eyes from hers as he put this aspect of the matter before her. It was as though he were testing her nerve; or perhaps it was that he thought candour best in regard to a contingency the possibility of which would doubtless occur to her.

“It seems to me,” she said presently, “that human nature is much the same all the world over. You were rather intolerant of the intrigues of Cairo; but rivalries and disputes evidently go on in the desert too. I’m very disappointed.”

“So am I,” he replied, with disarming candour. “The only thing to be said for it is that it has been done pretty openly and boldly.”

“What do you intend to do?” she asked. She was remarkably calm.

“I’m going to slip away after dark,” he replied, with a smile, “and walk to El Homra.”

“It’s thirty miles,” she said. “And supposing you get shot or caught...?”

“You can come too, if you like,” he replied. He might have added that this actually was his intention.

She remained silent for some moments, her face a little flushed, her fingers drumming on the table. In spite of her self-control he could see that she realized the danger. “Yes,” she said at length, “I’ll come too.”

He smiled broadly. She caught sight of his strong white teeth, in which the stem of his pipe was gripped.

“I don’t see anything to smile about,” she remarked.

He did not answer. In his mind there was an astonishing sense of exultation. He had had no idea that she would show such quiet pluck: he had hardly dared to think, as he put the graver possibilities of their situation before her, that she would receive the news without a tremor. But now, suddenly, his heart was crying out within him: “This is my mate; this is the woman who will dare all with me”; and he laughed to think of their present absurd relationship. He did not realize how deep was their estrangement.

After the midday meal he sent her to her room to rest, and, pocketing his revolver, went down into the village. Here all was quiet, but he observed that small groups of the revolters were moving to and fro, some of them carrying their antiquated firearms. IbrahÎm, he was told, was more or less a prisoner in his own house, and he thought it politic to make no attempt to visit him.

“Time will show,” he said to an adherent of the usurper, “whether your master is worthy to be Sheikh”; and that was as far as he would commit himself.

At tea-time he returned to the monastery, and now he gave full instructions to Hussein. The latter was to go to bed as usual that night, and was to take no part in the events of the darkness. He was to call his master an hour after sunrise, and if it chanced that he failed to find him, he was to take what steps he chose to report the disappearance and exonerate himself from blame.

It was not until after nightfall that any outward signs of their dangerous situation were to be observed. Daniel found then that three armed natives were loitering outside the ruined walls, and, in answer to his enquiries as to their business, they told him amiably that they were there to prevent him leaving the Oasis.

“But how can I leave it without a camel?” he asked. “In the morning you must tell your master that the two camels must be brought back to me. They must be here before midday.” His voice was peremptory, and the natives salaamed respectfully.

It was at about an hour before midnight that, from the top of his tower, he took a final survey of his surroundings. There was a young moon in the heavens, and by its pale light he observed the figure of one of the guards reclining on the sand, his back against the wall, directly beneath the window of Muriel’s room. The other two, as he had previously noticed, were seated in a more or less comatose state at the entrance of the monastery, at which point they no doubt presumed that reason required them to remain.

He descended stealthily from the tower, and, feeling his way through the dark refectory, found Muriel seated, ready, upon her bed. In silence she rose to her feet, and thereupon Daniel gathered up the bedclothes in his arms and crept with them to the window. She did not know what he was about to do, but presently she saw him crouching upon the sill, his figure silhouetted against the sky.

Suddenly, with a flutter of the blankets, he disappeared, and from outside she heard a series of muffled sounds. Darting to the window, she saw him struggling with what appeared to be a furiously animated bundle of bedclothes from which two kicking brown legs protruded; and, a moment later, this bundle was lifted from the ground.

“Quick!” he whispered, looking up at her, and thereupon she crawled through the window and jumped on to the soft sand outside.

Daniel, clasping his burden, with the head pressed against his breast, told her to pick up the man’s rifle and to put it through the window on to her bed. When she had done so he at once set off at a run towards the open desert, and Muriel followed him, her heart wildly beating. A distance of not more than fifty yards separated them from some clusters of rock which would shelter them from sight, and soon they were scrambling over the rough ground in temporary immunity from detection.

Here Daniel paused to rearrange his struggling captive, who was in grave danger of suffocation, and, having warned him that a single sound would mean instant death, he lifted him across his shoulder, with the blankets more loosely thrown over his head, and again broke into a jog-trot.

When about a quarter of a mile had been covered they descended into a shallow ravine, with which Daniel was well acquainted; and here, being screened from the Oasis, he set down his burden, cautiously removing the bedclothes from the perspiring and anxious face. The man’s eyes were wide with fear as he found himself looking into the muzzle of a revolver; but his captor smilingly reassured him, promising him that no harm would come to him if he but walked ahead in complete silence.

“I am afraid,” he said in Arabic, “that you are about to have a somewhat lengthy walk.”

“Where are we going?” the man asked.

“To El Homra,” Daniel replied casually.

“Ya salaam!” exclaimed the man, in an awed whisper. In our language the expression may be rendered “Oh, lor’!”

The ravine led them to the northwest, and they must have covered nearly two miles before Daniel deemed it safe to bear off more to the north, over the higher ground. The going was easy, for the surface of the rocks was smooth, and the light of the moon sufficient to prevent stumbling; and an hour’s walking brought them to a point at which they could without risk move to the east, so as to pick up the track leading to El Homra. This they found at length without any difficulty, and they now judged themselves to be beyond the pickets, being already two or three miles distant from the near end of the Oasis.

The first danger was now past, and Daniel therefore began to discuss with Muriel their chances of success.

“We must have come six or seven miles,” he said. “I suppose you are pretty tired?”

“No,” she answered, “I can keep up for some time yet. You’ve taken me for some pretty long walks during the last fortnight: it was good training.”

“Well, say when you’re done,” he said, “and I’ll carry you.”

“Thanks,” she replied stiffly, “I’m not a child.”

They walked on in silence, three ghostly figures stalking through the dim light of a dream.

“I suppose,” said Daniel presently, “that they’ll not miss us until well after sunrise, if then; so I think our chances are fairly rosy. It all depends on your feet, my girl.”

With the extra mileage due to their detour, the distance to the half-way pool would be about eighteen miles or so; and it was obvious to Daniel that Muriel would not be able to stand more than twelve or fourteen. He therefore glanced anxiously at her every now and then as they pushed forward across the great open plain which lay between the two oases; and at length he noticed that she was limping.

It was nearly four o’clock in the morning, and they were still some four or five miles distant from the pool, when Daniel suddenly took hold of her arm.

“Now I’m going to carry you,” he said.

She did not protest. For some time she had been hobbling forward in a kind of nightmare, her feet sore and burning, her knees feeble, and her brain fevered. The moon had now set, but the stars gave sufficient light for them to see the straight track beneath them. She hardly realized what he was doing as he lifted her from the ground, putting one of his great arms about her shoulders and the other under her knees. In a confused manner she was aware of a feeling of annoyance at her weakness; but presently, nevertheless, her head dropped upon his shoulder. She did not sleep, but she was certainly not awake.

When at last she recovered full consciousness she found to her infinite surprise that the day was breaking, and that Daniel was in the act of depositing her upon the sand at the edge of the half-way pool.

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed. “How far have you carried me, man?”

“About five miles,” he said, rubbing his stiff arms. “Now for a bit of a rest.”

She was wide awake again, and to her great relief she found that her feet were no longer burning. Their wretched captive, however, was entirely exhausted, and was stretched upon his stomach, drinking greedily from the pool.

Daniel himself did not show any marked signs of fatigue. A walk of eighteen miles was nothing to him, and the burden of Muriel’s weight was not intolerable to a man of his colossal strength.

When half an hour later, they resumed their journey the sun was rising above the distant hills. They walked off alone, for Daniel had extracted an inviolable promise from their captive to rest where he was until noon before setting out on his return journey; and he had given the man a few biscuits and a slice or two of meat to keep him going. Both Muriel and Daniel had bathed their feet in the pool, and having eaten a square meal they fared forth once more with some degree of vigour.

As the sun increased in power, however, this sense of freshness vanished, and but five miles had been covered when Daniel was obliged once more to take his companion in his arms, in spite of her valiant protests. This time he set her upon his shoulder, clasping her about the legs, and every mile or two he varied the position.

From the pool to the hills which divided the plain from El Homra was, roughly, ten miles, and when at last they mounted, at about ten o’clock, on to the high ground, Daniel was already feeling the strain. For the next couple of miles Muriel limped along by his side; and now their practical immunity from capture permitted them to take an occasional rest in the shade of the rocks.

The last three miles of the journey were very exhausting to them both, for it was now noon, and the sun was intensely hot. Their water-bottles were nearly empty and their provisions were all gone; but the sight of the Oasis in the distance served to keep up their courage.

Muriel, much against her inclinations, had now to be carried almost continuously, but Daniel would not listen to her repeated requests that he would leave her while he went on to fetch help. He still feared a possible pursuit, for even so near to their goal they were travelling through uninhabited and utterly isolated country. He set his teeth, therefore, and carried her forward, now on this shoulder, now on that, now upon his back, and now, as originally, in his arms. He was aching from head to toe, and his feet felt like burning coals of fire, while the perspiration issued from every pore.

“Gee!” he said, as he set her down a mile from their destination, “this has been some walk!”

He took her in his arms again, and set out upon the last lap. The buildings of the police headquarters were now clearly visible against the palms, and near them stood the tents which told them that the Bindanes had returned from the north.

Muriel looked up at his haggard face. “I’m ashamed of myself for being so feeble,” she said. “It is very humiliating for me to have to be carried by you, of all people.”

For answer he suddenly bent her head down and kissed her.

Muriel uttered an exclamation. “Put me down!” she cried. “How dare you!”

Again he kissed her, holding her up in his arms as her legs kicked at his hip. She freed her hand and pressed it into his face.

“If you do that,” he laughed, “I’ll drop you.”

“How dare you!” she repeated. “Oh, you brute!”

He threw his head back, and looked up at the sun from under the brim of his battered old hat. “It’s been an extraordinary fortnight,” he panted, as though he were addressing the heavens.

Muriel did not answer, but she was breathing hard as he looked down into her face once more, and her eyes were wide with anger.

“I’ve learned a lot about you,” he said, “during these days; and I guess you’re worth winning, after all.”

“In that case,” she replied furiously, “I guess you’ll be sorry that you’ve lost me.”

“Have I lost you, Muriel?” he asked.

“You have,” she replied, shortly and decisively. “What else did you expect, after the way you have insulted and bullied me? You’ve lost me for ever.”

The intensity with which she spoke silenced him; and thus they came stumbling into the camp.