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Page 36
Mystery, fascination, spell, lure, call of the desert. All fine words,
but hopeless to explain that which has lured more than one white woman
out into the golden wilderness to the wrecking of her soul; and which
has nothing whatever to do with the pseudo-psychic waves which trick us
into such pitiable hysteria and hallucination.
But there is no mystery about that which called Damaris. It was the
joy of youth, the salt of novelty, the exhilarating sympathy between
horse and rider; she shouted as she seemingly rode straight into the
massed colouring of the sunrise; she lifted her face to the golden
banners flung across the sky and turned in the saddle and looked back
at the hem of Night's garments disappearing down in the west.
She was still a child, for those auxiliaries, Love and Life, had not
yet lain hand upon her; they had but pulled aside the veil from before
her eyes for one brief second, and she, dazzled by the glimpse, had
pulled it back hastily. Neither was there anything to tell her that,
upon a not very far distant day, the veil would be torn from her,
leaving her to be well-nigh blinded by the radiance of the greatest
light in the world.
And she rode carelessly, without a thought to the passing of time or to
the ever-increasing speed of el-Sooltan, who was all out in an
endeavour to find his stable, also his companions, from whom he had
been parted for many weary weeks.
That they happened to be in the Oasis of Khargegh, some few hundred
miles down the Nile, he was not to know; he only knew that the desert
was his home and that in it and of it was his happiness to be found;
and it was only when Damaris turned to look at the ruins of the City of
On from a far distance that she discovered that they had disappeared in
a mist which was merely the combination of the distance and the waters
of the oasis evaporating in the morning sun.
She tried to pull the stallion, gently at first, and then with all her
might, but to no purpose; for nothing but the voice of his master or
his own particular _sayis_ could stop el-Sooltan once he had got the
light bit between his teeth; and of the death from thirst which awaited
him and his rider upon this particular venture if he continued in his
obstinacy he had, of course, no warning.
"What a nuisance," said Damaris, as she looked round the great yellow
plain which stretched, a carpet of level sand, to the west and under
her horse's feet and broke to the east into a chain of hummocks, piled
by the last sandstorm which had caused such devastation in the nomad
tribes and such annoyance to the visitors at Heliopolis.
She felt no fear, only an increasing vacuum beneath her waistbelt and
distress for the worry her long absence might cause her godmother.
"And Well-Well will have chewed everything chewable in the car, also
the legs of the _sayis_, by the time I get back," she exclaimed. "And
I can't do anything--I've irrevocably given el-Sooltan his head. It's
no use slipping from the saddle, because I couldn't walk back. I can't
. . ."
She broke off suddenly, rose in the stirrups and waved. And a more
radiant picture of youth you could not have wished to see in a lifetime.
"A village!" she shouted. "Camels, palms, water. An oasis with tents;
women and children and men. Come round, Sooltan, come round." And she
pulled with all her strength, and still to no avail, for, oblivious of
the peaceful, verdant patch, the mighty animal forged ahead.
"Well, I shall have to drop from the saddle, let Sooltan go, and walk
over to them. They are sure to be friendly and . . ."
She had just slipped her foot from the stirrup when, clear and
insistent, there came a ringing cry.
Some way off, the Hawk of Egypt had followed her from the village of
Khankah, with intent, knowing the horse she rode, to watch over but not
intrude his presence upon her. He had known for some time that
el-Sooltan was out of hand, and had decided to call him after a mile or
so more of furious exercise; but, instead, quite suddenly and
instinctively, he cried, "_A'ti balak!--a'ti balak_!" which means, "Be
careful--be careful," and pulled the mare to a standstill.
He too had seen the mirage of the peaceful oasis, thrown by the
atmosphere from a distance of eighty miles, and with his desert-trained
eyes had caught the little movement of the foot; and, connecting the
two, he insistently called the stallion, knowing that a drop from the
saddle at the almost incredible speed at which Sooltan was going might
easily result in twisted ankles or even a broken neck.
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