by John Blaine
The sun beat down relentlessly, tempered only slightly by the dust layer of the harmattan. The Emir watched his captives carefully, and during the early afternoon he gave an order to Elijah, who extracted three woolen strips from a pack. The Emir took them and cantered to the three.
“Take these.” He handed a cloth to each. “Drape them over your heads so they cover the backs of your necks. There are short ropes on your saddle loops. Take one and bind the cloths around your heads. I know you are used to the sun ofKano , but only a fool goes into the desert without covering.”
Thank you,” Tony said, and the boys echoed him.
“It is nothing.” The Emir smiled. “After all, one must take care of his workers.”
“Your command of English is flawless,” Tony told him. “May I ask where you were educated?”
“Certainly.I attended a mission school inTimbuktu , then studied law for a short time atLagos . I had English professors in both schools. They were kind enough to say I had a good ear.”
Rick was amazed. “How can a man of your background even condone a thing like this, much less be responsible for it?”
The Emir’s good nature vanished. “Only one of the Faithful who has been fed pork could understand this.”
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“I still say those were beef hot dogs,” Rick insisted.
“And I would expect you to say it. Hot dogs are frankfurters, are they not? And frankfurters are a type of German sausage made of pork and beef. It is that simple.” With that, the Emir galloped ahead.
Scotty shook his head. “We’ll never convince him until we can hand him a package of beef hot dogs so he can read the label.”
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Tony said mildly. “If you took a poll inAmerica , you’d find plenty of people who didn’t know there were beef hot dogs-including many who eat them. Not everyone reads labels. And, personally, I’ve never seen beef hot dogs overseas, although I’ve seen some versions of the hot dog that were the traditional pork-and-beef combination. You find them inScandinavia , for example.”
The three adjusted their head coverings and Rick grinned at the appearance of his companions. “Now you look like extras in a Foreign Legion movie.”
“There isn’t a Foreign Legion any more,” Tony reminded him.
“I’m starting a new one right now,” Scotty declared. “Someone has to put these desert types in their place. You two can be the first recruits.”
“Count me in,” Rick said.“If I can be a sergeant.”
“Nothing but generals in my legion,” Scotty replied. “If you want to start at the bottom, you’ll have to be a brigadier general. Tony’s older. He can be a major general.”
There were hills, now-rocky hills of broken stone through which the horses picked their way with care.
Once they stopped for ten minutes to water the horses and take a drink themselves, and Rick noticed that at no time did watchful eyes leave them. The Emir was taking no chances.
They crossed the hills into dune country, skirted the high-piled ridges of sand, and then found themselves on a rocky plain once more.
The sun was setting before Red Turban reined back and consulted with the Emir. The Emir nodded, and the party followed the leader into a draw filled with broken boulders. The bottom was pure sand.
They dismounted, and at once three guards came and took their horses. The three stood idly while the desert people erected a tent for the Emir and set about getting dinner.
“To show you that my feelings are quite impersonal,” the Emir told them, “I will invite you to sit with me at dinner.Unless your principles do not allow eating with your captors?”
“The first principle,” Tony replied, “is courtesy. Since you place us in the position of guests with your invitation, we owe you the courtesy of a guest to his host. We accept with pleasure.”
“Thank you. Please come and sit before my tent.”
The dinner was the best they had eaten since being captured. Lamb chunks, skewered and broiled, were supplemented by the huge Nigerian yam-a vegetable which often was two feet long and several inches Page 46
thick, with white flesh like a potato, but coarser in texture. The yam had been baked by burying it in the fire. There was hot tea to drink, as much as they wanted.
The Emir conversed easily, and once he admitted, “There are some disadvantages to an education. I find myself hungry for conversation. Elijah is the only one besidesmyself who has been educated at a university. He is a graduate of the university atLagos . Tell me. What is the equipment you carried? I have never seen anything like it. At first I thought it was radio equipment, but it is not.”
Tony explained the laser project, and the Emir sighed.“A pity. I would have liked to see such a demonstration.”
“You can,” Rick said boldly. “Turn around and take us back. We’ll invite you to watch.”
“I wish I could,” the Emir said simply.
“Why can’t you?” Scotty demanded.
“Because I am the Emir.My people know that an American dishonored me. If I fail to extract a proper revenge they will lose respect for me. It is only by respect that I rule them. They watch my treatment of you with great interest, and even amusement.”
“All your people know of this?” Tony asked. “Aren’t you afraid the story will leak out and get to the authorities?”
“No. A man who talks too much loses his tongue.Literally. Besides, in this part of the world I am the
‘authorities.’”
Later, as they huddled in their sleeping bags on the sand, Rick said thoughtfully, “You know, in other circumstances I could like the Emir. He’s pretty bright, and he has a sense of humor.”
“I agree,” Tony said. “In a way, he’s as much a victim of misfortune as we are.”
Scotty chuckled. “Love thy enemy. Okay. I’ll love him, too.After I’ve managed to increase his misfortune by about ten times. Good night.”
But Rick and Tony were already asleep.
The earth shook under Rick and he stirred uneasily. The night had been cold, and he had drawn the sleeping bag up over his head, which also served to deaden the sound of outside activity. He became conscious of noise, a kind of wild screaming punctuated by heavy slaps. He jerked to full consciousness and pulled the bag away from his head. The muffled slaps became clearer. Gunshots! People were yelling somewhere close by. He blinked his eyes, conscious of an unidentified pounding noise, and turned in time to see a horde of horsemen sweeping down the gully right toward him!
The three had laid their sleeping bags to one side of the gully on a patch of soft sand, and it was this location that saved their lives. Rick let out a yell and tried to get out of the sleeping bag, but realized there was no time. He rolled frantically to the shelter of the rocks at the gully’s edge, sleeping bag and all.
Scotty and Tony, who had realized their predicament almost at the same moment, rolled and squirmed with him.
They made it, but Tony, who was farthest from the rocks, was scraped by a hoof as a horseman leaped Page 47
right over him.
Rick had a confused impression of blue robes and gleaming swords against the pale light of growing dawn. He started to scramble from the confines of the sleeping bag as the horsemen rushed past, but the last two pulled their mounts up in a stop that sent the horses back on their haunches, then the riders whirled back toward the three, pulled up sharply again, and leaped to the ground with broadswords raised.
Rick’s heart leaped into his throat. The blue robes towered above them, and blazing eyes peered down from above heavy veils. Veiled swordsmen! One of the two barked a sharp command, and Tony called quickly, “Lie still!”
Rick and Scotty stopped struggling to get out of the bags. One of the veiled men let out a piercing cry, then the two simply stood on guard over the helpless three, swords ready.
Down the gully a fierce fight was raging, the cries of men punctuated by gunshots. From his prone position Rick couldn’t see
what was happening, but he thought the Emir and his guards were making a stand against the raiders.
Two more horsemen swept up the gully toward them, probably in answer to the veiled man’s cry. They dismounted, and a brief conversation ensued, then the two newcomers got ropes from their saddles and advanced.
While the first two kept guard over Rick and Scotty, the two newcomers knelt by Tony. One held a knife at his throat. The second inspected the sleeping bag, then pulled it up around Tony’s throat and tied it with rope, securing the scientist inside.
Rick could have cried with frustration. In a moment it was his turn. A needle-pointed dagger pricked his throat while his arms were thrust inside the sleeping bag and it was tied around his neck. To be tied up in a sack like a pig in a poke!
The three were completely helpless. They could move arms and legs inside the bag, but there was no way of getting out. The zipper was held by the tied rope, and couldn’t even be reached. A knife in the bag would have allowed them to cut their way out, but there wasn’t a knife among the three.
One veiled man remained as guard. The others left their horses and ran toward the fight that apparently was centeredaround the Emir’s tent.
Rick risked raising his head in time to see the Emir, Elijah, and four others smash into the raiders like a flying wedge. A pistol in the Emir’s hand blasted one raider out of the way, then the group ran down the gully to where the horses had been staked. The rest of the Emir’s men were locked in hand-to-hand combat with the raiders.
The fight ended with astonishing speed. The Emir and his group appeared, mounted, on the upper edge of the gully. Elijah screamed a command. The Emir’s men in the gully broke free and ran. Some of them made it. Rick saw one cut down with a whistling sweep of a broadsword. Another staggered and fell as a rifle blasted. Those who reached the horses mounted swiftly and got out as best they could. A few rifleshots followed them, but the raiders made no attempt at pursuit.
The raiders milled around the wreckage of the Emir’s tent. A couple bent over the fallen, apparently seeing whether they were dead or alive. The veiled raider who was guarding the three moved toward the Page 48
rest of his gang, keeping an eye cocked in their direction.
No word had been exchanged among the Spindrifters except for Tony’s sharp command. Now Scotty asked, “What is this all about?”
“They’re Tuaregs,” Tony said.“Wild desert tribesmen. Apparently they’re still raiding as they used to.”
“Raiding for what?” Rick asked.
“We’ll soon find out.” Tony’s voice didn’t sound reassuring.
From down the gully, heads were turned in their direction. In a moment several Tuaregs walked toward them, following one who was evidently a leader.
The group inspected the bagged three in silence; then the leader knelt and fingered the material of Scotty’s sleeping bag, rolled the boy over, tested the rubberized fabric of the bag’s back, rolled him back again and poked at the neck tie that held him securely.
Suddenly the leader started to laugh. The rest of the Tuaregs joined him. They roared with laughter until they had to hold on to each other. The leader sat down and pounded the sand, screaming with laughter.
Rick gritted his teeth. He could see the humor of the situation. Three prisoners, delivered without a struggle, packaged like trussed chickens. From the viewpoint of the raiders, it was probably the most hilarious thing that had ever happened, a tale to be told over the campfires, to be passed from tribe to tribe. It was ridiculous and screamingly funny.
Rick wasn’t amused.
CHAPTER XIII
Camp of the Tuaregs
Rick sat on a ledge in front of the cave that had been given to the Spindrifters as sleeping quarters. He was on the verge of exploding. He released some of his anger by pounding two rocks together until his hands hurt and the stones finally split.
Scotty prowled back and forth along the ledge like a caged tiger, in no better shape mentally than Rick.
Only Tony Briotti seemed relaxed. He lay stretched out below Rick’s feet and munched on dates while watching activity in the Tuareg camp below.
Rick couldn’t remember when he had faced such a fantastic series of events. Capture by the Emir’s men, escape, recapture, and now capture again by a Tuareg clan. And all the time the clock was ticking away-or, the days were dropping from the calendar. He had reviewed the passing days, marking them off in the dirt before the cave. It was the evening of their fifteenth day since leavingKano . That meant two weeks remained before the laser demonstration. Somehow, in that brief period, they had to escape from Page 49
the Tuaregs, recapture their equipment, and get to Sokoto and set up.
There were a few problems. One, they didn’t know where they were. Two, they didn’t know where the Emir had put their equipment. Three, they had no weapons. Four, five, and six, they had no water, no food,no transportation.
Rick got tired of counting up the problems. He hurled a rock at a passing lizard and missed.
“If we only had some idea of our location,” he said dejectedly, “we might be able to figure out some way of getting back to civilization.”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Tony said. The sweep of his arm took in the mountains around them. The camp to which they had been carried, slung over horses’ backs like grain sacks, was in a fertile valley between mountain escarpments. “I’m not very clear on the geography of this part of the world, as I’ve said before. But I have a blurred vision of the map ofCentral West Africa in my head, and it tells me we’re probably in the foothills of the TenereRange .”
Scotty paused in his pacing. “That’s great. Where is this range?”
“In the country ofNiger, in the southern part of theSahara.It also means these Tuaregs are probably one of the clans from around Air.”
“But we can’t be too far fromNigeria ,” Rick objected.
“Not as the crow flies. But we’re not crows.”
“How does it happen we heard nothing about the Tuaregs inKano if they’re prowling this close toNigeria
?”
Tony answered Rick’s question with a shrug. “I did hear of them. Maybe you did, too. They don’t call them Tuaregs inKano , they call them Buzos.”
“At least they’re not mistreating us,” Scotty observed.
“On the contrary,” Tony agreed, “they’re treating us very well. It’s a tradition with the Tuaregs. A slave is to be well cared for. If his master mistreats him, he has the right to demand that he be sold to a kinder master.”
“How do you know about the Tuaregs?” Rick asked.
“I don’t know a great deal,” Tony admitted. “But I remember a few things from a course in comparative anthropology.”
“Anything to help us get out of here?”Scotty inquired.
“Possibly.It’s hard to tell until we’re a bit more familiar with the camp and the local customs.”
The camp was composed of domed tents made of goatskins. There were goats everywhere. Rick estimated the number of goats at about forty per tent. They wandered in and out at will-young kids and old billies alike-and all seemed very tame. There were also a number of sheep, smelly creatures with long, matted wool and long tails. There were twelve tents, and each one seemed inhabited by several Page 50
people. There were half-naked children, young men with heads shaved except for a ridge of hair like a Huron
Indian, and old men with heads fully shaved. The women, children, and young men did not wear veils.
All the grown men did.
At the head of the valley, where it ended in a rocky cul-de-sac, was a pen in which the horses were kept. And at the opposite end of the valley, where it entered a rocky defile leading to freedom, the lushest grass was reserved for a large herd of camels-the wealth of the clan. Some were Maharis, the famed racing camels of the northernSahara .
“If we could get our hands on three of those racing camels,” Rick mused, “we could make a break for
it.
If we had water.”
“If we had ham,” Scotty retorted, “we could have ham and eggs.If we had eggs.”
“Personally,” Tony said, “I’d rather live on a diet of goat’s milk, goat cheese, and millet cakes such as we had for lunch and dinner than the hot stuff the Emir fed us. Besides, we may get eggs now and then-ostrich eggs.”
Rick studied the camp. The well from which the entire camp’s water was drawn was well away from the nearest tent, a simple sanitary precaution. Hanging from a rack near it were goatskin water bags, some full and some empty. In addition, each tent had at least one water bag hung from its frame.
“There’s our water,” he said.“Now, how about the transportation? Do we go for horses or camels?”
“Camels,” Tony replied. “One of those big Maharis can do sixty miles in a day, and even more if pushed.”
“They keep the saddles in the tents,” Scotty observed. “Besides, who knows how to steer a camel? Do they answer to the reins like horses?”
Tony shook his head. “They usually steer by knee pressure, or by a single nose ring.”
Rick looked at him. “How much experience have you had with camels, Tony? I’ve been carried on one, and I once rode one. That’s all.”
“I’ve ridden them quite extensively, but I’ve never saddled one. That’s always been done for me.”
“It’shorses for us,” Rick said flatly. “The camels may be faster, but we know how to handle horses.
What we have to do is plan so the camels can’t overtake us.”
“Let’s walk down to the camp,” Scotty said abruptly, “I have an idea, but I’m not sure it will work until I can look the place over a little better.”
Their cave was one of a series of similar entrances into the mountainside. It was man-made, as were all the others. Originally it had been cut to obtain salt that occurred in thin veins through the sandstone.
When the salt vein had petered out, the cave had been converted to living quarters.
But salt was still mined-infact, that was their new job. They had arrived in camp on the previous night, and had been turned loose. It was clear the Tuaregs did not fear them, or worry about their escaping, Page 51