The Son of Monte-Cristo
Page 5
CHAPTER III.
THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO.
Maldar and his Khouan followers had reached the desert with theircaptive. For a long time they heard Monte-Cristo and his men in hotpursuit of them, but the sound, growing fainter and fainter, had finallyceased. The Sultan concluded that the Count had been misled by somefancied indication and had taken a wrong direction. He therefore gavehimself no further concern in regard to him. Once in the desert heslackened the pace of his Arab steed and the Khouans imitated hisexample. The party rode on for several miles when they arrived at asmall oasis, covered with tall palm trees, that resembled an island ofverdure amid the far-reaching waste of arid sand. There Maldar gave theorder to dismount. The Khouans sprang lightly from their weary horses,both men and animals going directly to the wells, where they took longdraughts of the cool, refreshing water. The night was now far spent, andas the abductors of Esperance threw themselves upon the grasssurrounding the wells, the first rosy streaks of dawn appeared in theeastern heavens. The horses stood cropping the verdure for a briefperiod, then they also lay down for rest and recuperation. Soon slumberreigned supreme, for Maldar, fearing neither pursuit nor attack, hadnot taken the precaution to post sentinels. The scarf had been removedfrom Esperance's mouth, and the son of Monte-Cristo, still wrapped inhis lethargic sleep, lay on the sod beside Maldar near one of the wells.It was a wild and picturesque group, such a group as would have filledthe soul of a painter with delight and inspiration.
As the light increased, but while it was yet vague and uncertain, givinga demoniac and supernatural cast to the group and its tropicalsurroundings, Esperance suddenly awoke and raised himself upon hiselbow. For an instant he gazed around him in bewilderment and terror.Was he dead, and were those swarthy-visaged forms extended motionless onthe grass of the oasis the forms of fiends? This thought shot throughhis mind and augmented his consternation. When he fell asleep he waswith his father, with the dauntless Monte-Cristo, and the last faces hehad seen were the faces of French people and friends. Now he was in themidst of beings of another race, in the midst of strangers. Strangers?No, for at that moment his eyes rested on Maldar, and he realized thathe was again in the clutches of his remorseless foe, and that the menaround him belonged to the dreaded Khouan tribe.
He was unbound; nothing restrained his movements and not a single guardwas watching over him. His fear vanished with his bewilderment and gaveplace to heroic resolution. Why should he not escape and make his wayback to his beloved father and devoted countrymen? He arose cautiouslyto his feet, and peered into the distance. His heart throbbed withanguish, for beyond the narrow confines of the green oasis, as far ashis eye could reach, stretched the trackless sands of the arid andinhospitable desert. Flight would be madness, nay, perhaps, death, butwould it not also be death to remain? The son of Monte-Cristo, full ofhis father's unconquerable spirit, determined to take the chances offlight. Doubtless Monte-Cristo and his friends were even now scouringthe desert in search of him. If he could mount one of the Khouans'horses and escape from the hands of his fanatical foes, he might meetthem.
Esperance stole cautiously toward an Arab courser, but he had not takena dozen steps when Maldar awoke, leaped to his feet, ran to him and laidan iron hand upon his shoulder.
"So you thought to escape me, did you, son of Monte-Cristo?" said theSultan, with a mocking laugh and a fiendish light in big eyes. "By thebeard of the Prophet, your presumption is unbounded! But you are mine,and no power on earth can save you now!"
The heroic lad gazed full in Maldar's face and, without the quiver of amuscle, answered defiantly:
"Wretch that you are to war on defenceless children, I do not fear you!Harm but a single hair of my head, and Monte-Cristo will grind you intodust!"
Maldar replied with a sneer: "Monte-Cristo, the infidel charlatan, ismiles away. With all his boasted power he can do nothing to aid you. Ihave you now, and you shall die!"
With the quickness of lightning Esperance thrust out his hand, seizingthe Sultan's jeweled yataghan and drawing it from its scabbard. At thesame time he raised it above his head and brought it down, aiming itstraight at Maldar's heart. The Sultan parried the thrust with his arm,receiving a gaping wound from which the blood gushed in a ruby stream.Smarting with pain and foaming with rage, he threw himself upon thedaring boy, tore the yataghan from his grasp, and with its heavy handlestruck him a blow on the head that stretched him senseless at his feet.
The noise of the conflict awoke the Khouans, who sprang up and rushed totheir chief.
One of them drew a long-bladed knife and was about to stab the prostrateand unconscious boy, but the Sultan restrained him with an impatientgesture.
"Not here," said he. "The sacrifice can only be made in the mosque ofthe Khouans, thrice dedicated to Mohammed and reserved for the holiestrite of Islam, the rite of vengeance!" Motioning to the Khouan to takethe insensible boy from the ground, he added "Now to horse and for themosque. Bear our captive in your arms."
The Arabs mounted and were soon dashing across the desert, headed by theSultan, who had hastily stanched the blood flowing from his arm andbound up the wound.
Half an hour later, Monte-Cristo and his men reached the oasis. TheCount and Captain Joliette rode to the wells and at once saw where thegrass had been beaten down by the Khouans and their horses.
"They have been here and recently, too," said Captain Joliette.
"Thank God!" said Monte-Cristo, fervently. "We are on their track! Butwhat is that?" he added. "Is it blood?"
Coucon and Fanfar, who had been attentively examining the stain,simultaneously answered:
"It is blood."
"My God!" cried Monte-Cristo, with a convulsive start, "then they haveslain my son!"
"Not so, Count," said Captain Joliette. "Had they slain Esperance theywould have left his body here. But see," resumed he, pointing to thespot where Esperance had made the attack on Maldar; "here are evidencesof a struggle; they have fought among themselves and one of them hasbeen wounded."
"Heaven grant it may be so!" said Monte-Cristo.
The party started off again, following the track of the Arabs' horses,and after an hour's ride came in sight of a long, low building with agleaming minaret, standing alone in the midst of the desert.
"The mosque of the Khouans!" cried Captain Joliette, triumphantly."Maldar and his ruffians are there! Look! Yonder are their horses!"
Monte-Cristo and his men reached the building and leaped to the ground;they left their panting animals in charge of Bobichel, and, drawingtheir revolvers, made their way into the mosque.
There a sight met their eyes that almost froze the blood in their veins.
Esperance, with his hands tied behind him and stripped to the waist,was kneeling upon a large, flat stone in the centre of the mosque. Overhim stood Maldar, his yataghan uplifted to strike. The four Khouansstood at a short distance, chanting what was evidently a death-hymn.
Instantly Monte-Cristo aimed his weapon at the Sultan and fired. Maldarfell dead beside his intended victim.
The other Arabs leaped through the open windows and, mounting theirhorses, fled across the desert.
Monte-Cristo caught his son in his arms.
"Esperance, my beloved!" he cried.
"Father!" exclaimed the rescued lad, clasping his arms aboutMonte-Cristo's neck.
Esperance's garments were quickly restored to him by Fanfar, and when hewas clad in them, the party again mounted and started on their return tothe colonist's farm.
There is no need to describe the toilsome journey, it was accomplishedin due time, and once more Esperance was safe in his father's care.
The ladies gave the heroes of the expedition a most enthusiasticwelcome, Miss Elphys shedding tears of joy as Esperance told her how hisheroic father had saved him from death at Maldar's hands.
The next evening, when the excitement had somewhat subsided andMonte-Cristo and his men had fully recovered from their fatigue, Fanfarbegan the story of his life, which wi
ll be related in the succeedingchapters.