Gege-Merak shouted his commands, but not a tribesman moved to obey. Softly Iva reached out her hand and grasped my repeating rifle, and I let her take it. She knelt before me, her brown face rigid, her eyes dark with horror, and rested the barrel on the ledge of rock before her. I saw Uncle Naboth and Ned glance at each other significantly; but they made no move to interfere.
Again and again the chief shouted his orders, waving his arms imperiously and stamping his foot in rage; but the Bega stood stolid and unyielding, and their Bisharin allies shrank back and huddled in a frightened group in the rear.
Gege-Merak himself snatched a rifle from a warrior’s hand and swinging around leveled it full at Ketti. At the same instant Iva’s rifle cracked beside me and I saw the aged chief totter, drop his weapon and sink slowly to the earth. A shout went up from the assembled group below, and with one impulse they turned their eyes toward us.
And now the girl sprang upon the dizzy ledge and stood where all might see her figure clearly outlined against the sky. High above her head she held the rifle that had slain her wicked grand-sire, and as the Bega recognized her they shouted again — joyfully this time — and waved their hands to her in full approval of her act.
I own I was horrified for a moment, remembering the ties of blood between Iva and Gege-Merak; but she was a wild, half-civilized child of the desert, and to her simple mind her lover’s life must be preserved at any cost.
All was eager animation in the ravine. Ketti’s bonds were quickly removed, and the big fellow waved his thanks to the sweetheart whose courage had saved him.
“Come,” said Iva, calmly, as she stepped down to a safer position beside us. “There are only friends in Ketti’s tribe now; let us go to him.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KETTI PROVES A FRIEND
AS HASTILY AS might be we groped our way down the dangerous pathway to the ground below the cliffs. There we regained our camels and made for the desert, around the spur of the mountain, and so up the regular trail to the mouth of the ravine.
Ketti was eagerly awaiting us, and as she saw him Iva quickly rode forward and threw herself from her camel to crouch with bowed head before the new chief.
Coming to her side, Ketti raised her gently and, while we watched with curiosity from one side and the assembled Bega watched from the other, the young warrior gravely placed one hand beneath Iva’s chin, palm upward, and the other hand upon her head, palm down.
This, we learned afterward, was the betrothal ceremony of the Bega. When a young man chose his bride he went to her and took her chin and head between his palms, and thus made claim to her for all time. None other dared afterward make advances to the girl, under penalty of incurring her affianced youth’s anger. Indeed, I was told this was frequently the only ceremony performed at all, whether of betrothal or marriage, by many of the tribes, although there was a form of native wedding that included various and lengthy rites and involved much feasting and dancing.
The girl, it seems to me, has not a fair chance in this custom, for she is not allowed to refuse a man who so salutes her. It is true a brother or father may challenge a presumptuous warrior and fight him to the death, but the girl herself is helpless.
I am sure Ketti and Iva had an elaborate wedding ceremony thereafter; but that is not a part of my story, from which I fear I have digressed. Feeling quite safe with the friendly Ketti, we had no hesitation in following him and his band into the ravine, where we dismounted and went at once to examine the body of Van Dorn. He was quite dead, having been shot through the heart, and Ned Britton lifted him and bore him to one of the low tents, of which Ketti willingly gave us the use. Gege-Merak’s body still lay upon its face where it had fallen, and to my surprise none of the natives touched it or even so much as glanced toward it, so far as I could see.
In the tent, Ned and one of the sailors searched Van Dorn’s clothing and removed from it the leathern belt, his rings and watch and a small note-book. Last they found, sewn into the lining of his well-worn coat, a package, rather bulky, though flat, covered with goat-skin, tied and sewn securely and carefully sealed. These things I took possession of, and Uncle Naboth and I went to see Ketti to get permission to bury the body.
We found the young chief seated on a rock beside Iva, with whom he was conversing most earnestly. He smiled at us as we came up, and said:
“We have made changes, Effendi. I am now chief.”
“So I understand, Ketti,” I answered, “and I’m glad of it. We are friends with the Bega now, are we not?”
“We are friends,” he announced, gravely. “Gege-Merak was bad, and had no love for you. He loved treasure better, and killed the Red-beard to get it all. But Ketti does not want his brothers’ wealth. It is enough that you have paid the Bega to guide and protect you.”
“Do you mean that you will return to us the treasure?” I asked, striving to conceal my astonishment.
“It is not Ketti’s. It was not Gege-Merak’s. It is yours,” he said, simply. “My tribe shall not rob, nor shall they slay their friends. While I am chief, the Bega who call me master must be honest and good, and keep the laws the great Khedive has made. Is it not so, Iva?”
“It is the only way for our tribe to prosper and grow in strength,” she answered, soberly. “Under our great and good Chief Ketti we will be rich and strong, and our father the Khedive will call us good children.”
“You shall say, when you return to Koser,” continued Ketti, regarding us earnestly, “that my tribe was true and honest, and touched not one jewel of your treasure. You will say that we guided you straight and protected you from enemies and thieves and earned your money well. Is it so, Effendi?”
“We will say that, Ketti,” I replied.
“But there are also things which you will not say, Effendi,” he continued, with a note of anxiety in his voice.
“And what are they, my friend?”
“You will not say my people killed the Red-beard; for you do not know what killed him. You will not say where he is gone, for that you do not know. Is not the land broad for men to wander in? And if any asks you about Gege-Merak you will be sorrowful and tell how he died in the desert, being old and feeble, and you will say that Ketti succeeded him as chief of the tribe. Then you will mount the great ship that awaits you and sail away.”
I began to understand. Ketti intended to make a bargain with us. He feared the consequences of the murder of Van Dorn and did not want the fact that Iva had shot her grandfather known. If we would promise to be discreet in these matters he would restore to us the treasure, which he considered another element of danger to him, not realizing that we were slyly removing it in defiance of the Khedive’s orders. Had he known that — but, fortunately, he did not know it.
“It shall be as you say, Chief Ketti,” I returned; “for we wish you and Iva only happiness, and to tell some things might cause you trouble. If your father the Khedive asks us of your service, we will say you are a good chief, and faithful.”
That pleased him greatly.
“The treasure is untouched,” said he. “Not a seal is broken. It awaits your orders, Effendi.”
Willingly he gave us permission to bury the Professor among the rocks, which we did during the afternoon. When we returned to the ravine from this labor we were surprised to notice that in our absence the natives had gathered several heaps of stones, which were piled in the form of a wide circle around Gege-Merak’s body. But the body itself had not been disturbed, and the Bega were now lounging in various parts of the ravine and conversing together in their customary indifferent manner.
Ketti came to us with the information that we should start at dawn next morning for Koser, which he hoped to reach in two days’ fast riding.
“But what will you do with Gege-Merak?” I inquired.
“His ceremony of entombment will be held this evening, Effendi. Your people will be welcome to watch the solemn rites,” he added.
We had supper and awaited with curiosity
to witness the proposed ceremony; but the natives were in no hurry, and showed no activity until the stars were bright in the sky.
At a word from Ketti, every Bega and Bisharin sprang up and stood in a circle around the dead chief’s body. Beginning a low chant they now commenced to move slowly around Gege-Merak, keeping step to the chant and bending in lithe, rhythmic attitudes characteristic of the Eastern dances. And ever the chorus grew louder and faster until it became a roar and at last a wild shout. Also the excitement of the warriors increased until presently they were dancing with frenzied leaps.
Suddenly, as they circled round just beside the piles of rock, each man seized a stone from the nearest heap and hurled it at the dead body. From the next pile he grabbed another stone, until the missiles were raining upon Gege-Merak’s prostrate form from every direction. As the dance reached its climax of animation and the shower of rock continued, the old chief’s body began to disappear from sight, until he was covered up entirely and entombed in a mound of stone several feet in height.
It was a shocking sight, and seemed to us extremely brutal; but Iva, who stood by our side, calmly declared it was the custom of her people, and that a chief was highly honored who was thus buried by his people where he fell or expired. The chant, she told us, was a relation of his virtues and his mighty deeds on earth.
If a chief dies or is killed on the desert, his people cast sand upon him, in like manner, and afterward weight the mound with rocks; and, as his body is never moved from the spot where he expired, they take down his tent or house after the funeral and set up the habitation in another place, leaving his burial mound stationary.
The wild chant rang in my ears long after the grim ceremony was completed and the camp had become quiet for the night. We Americans slept uneasily through the next few hours and at dawn awoke to eat a hasty breakfast and mount our camels.
The panniers were replaced on the two extra animals by Ned and Bryonia, who now took charge of the treasure. We were pleased to observe the truth of Ketti’s statement that the wax upon the buckles of the panniers had not been tampered with and was still intact.
The Bisharin left us here and went away to their village, and without incident we traversed the trail back to Koser, which we reached, weary but exultant, at the close of the second day. My father and a number of sailors, apprised by a swift messenger of our coming, were at the wooden dock to meet us, and we unstrapped the four treasureladen panniers from the saddles of the camels and sent them on board by a boat commanded by Ned in person.
Captain Steele produced the hundred and eighty pounds due to Ketti for his services, according to the contract we had made with Gege-Merak, and I asked that an extra gold piece be given to each of the Bega warriors, which was willingly agreed to since we had been successful in our quest. It made the simple fellows very happy indeed.
After consulting with Uncle Naboth and gaining his consent, I opened the Professor’s leathern belt and took from it the prettiest jewel it contained, a diadem of yellow gold set with clusters of pearls and sapphires. This I presented to Iva as a wedding present from her American friends, and the beautiful girl was proud indeed of the gift, as well she might be. Once, perhaps, it had adorned the brow of some famous Egyptian queen, and though it might now appear incongruous upon the person of a poor Bega woman, we were so grateful to Iva for the service she had rendered us that we thought it none too good to express our appreciation.
We parted from Ketti and his people in the mostly friendly manner, and he returned that night to his village in the desert.
It was not so easy to get rid of the bearded Arab sheik of Koser, who was curious to know what we had brought from Luxor and what adventures we had met on the way. It was strange, he added, that the Bega had brought us safe back again; it was not like that clever, evil old Gege-Merak. Fortunately no one had told him of the old chief’s death, or he would have been still more curious.
But we refused to satisfy the fellow’s desire to gossip and kept our mouths fast shut when he was around. Also we refused his polite offers of entertainment and to his disgust hoisted sail early the next morning and headed up the gulf toward Port Ibrahim.
Now that we had the treasure safe aboard, every moment we delayed was fraught with danger, and the doubtful friendship of this sheik of Koser was no longer of any value to us.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LOVELACE PASHA
THE TREASURE WAS taken from the panniers and, still snugly packed in the canvas sacks which Van Dorn had so carefully sealed, carried to my stateroom and dumped unceremoniously into a huge chest.
After a brief conference we had decided to leave it untouched until after we had passed through the Suez Canal and, free from the shores of Egypt, were safe on the broad waters of the Mediterranean. Then we would open the sacks, sort and examine the treasure, and divide it in ways still to be agreed upon. Our contract with Van Dorn, you will remember, gave us his share in case of his death.
And now, while we sailed up the long branch of the Red Sea which is called the Arabian Gulf, I examined with some curiosity the things Ned had taken from the Professor’s dead body.
His note book had been a sort of diary, but from it several leaves had been torn, as if he had recorded events which he afterward feared might compromise him, and had thus destroyed their written evidence. From what remained I gathered that the man was no “professor” at all, but a wandering adventurer attracted to Egypt by the recent valuable discoveries there. Falling in with Lovelace, he had hired his services to that savant to assist his search, and from scattered notations in the book I formed the shrewd conclusion that the fellow had never possessed the shadow of a claim to Lovelace’s discovery. Abdul Hashim had read his character fairly well, and it seemed that Van Dorn had played a desperate and murderous game to win the treasure for himself and rob, incidentally, the real discoverer and any others who might lay claim to a portion of the buried wealth.
Turning from the note book, I cut the stitches of the goatskin cover of the parcel which Van Dorn had so cleverly concealed in the lining of his coat, and proceeded to break the seals, which I observed bore the monogram “J. L.,” surmounted by a winged sphinx. This was not Van Dorn’s seal, but that of Lovelace Pasha, and I judged that after the owner had sewn and sealed the packet it had in some way come into the possession of Van Dorn, who had never yet ventured to open it.
At this time all of those most interested were gathered with me in the Captain’s room: Uncle Naboth, Ned, Archie and Joe, as well as my father. When I removed the covering a small locket dropped out, and this I opened to glance at a sweet, womanly face that met my gaze.
Over my shoulder came a sob and a cry and Joe seized the locket from my hands.
“My mother!” he said, softly, as he devoured the miniature with eager, loving eyes.
We looked at the boy in astonishment.
“Your mother, Joe?” I questioned, stupidly.
He swiftly drew from beneath his clothing the slender chain which I had often observed he wore around his neck, and showed us a similar locket attached to it. Opening this with trembling fingers, the boy laid the lockets side by side, and we saw that the portraits were nearly identical.
“Father and I each had one,” he said, in an awed whisper; “mother has often told me that.”
“Did you ever know what became of your father, Joe?” I inquired.
“No; he went away when I was a baby, and we never heard of him again. For that reason mother was sure he was dead, for she said he loved her and would not otherwise have deserted her.”
“Then,” said I, softly, “you are about to discover your father, Joe; for the man who wrote this and owned the locket could be none other.”
“Wrote what?” asked Uncle Naboth.
I had been hastily examining a flat book which accompanied the locket. It had leaves of coarse paper closely covered with writing in a fine, scholarly hand.
“Here is a manuscript which I believe I will read aloud
,” said I. “It may be interesting to us, in view of our recent adventure, and I am sure it will tell Joe something about his father.”
As I spoke I turned over the pages to the end, and Uncle Naboth, peering over my shoulder, exclaimed:
“Why, it’s signed by John Lovelace. That must be the same Lovelace Pasha who discovered the treasure.”
“He was not a Pasha,” I returned, “although he was called so. He was not even entitled to the name of Lovelace, for here he tells us who he really was — John Herring.”
Joe was staring intently, first at the lockets and then at me. His face was pale and his dark eyes glowed with nervous excitement.
“Sit down, uncle,” I said, “and let me read what is here written.”
All now assumed attentive attitudes while I proceeded to read as follows:
“‘This shall be, to any who reads it after my death, my last testament and my final behest. For some weeks I, John Herring, have feared treachery and sudden death, although I cannot discover from what direction the danger threatens. So I am determined to explain herein my position in Egypt, for, being reserved by nature, I know that at present I am a mystery to all with whom I have come into contact in this ancient and romantic land.
“‘I am an American, a native of Galveston, and a graduate of Harvard. Soon after I left college my father, who was reputed a wealthy man, died without estate, and I was thrown upon my own resources. Being little fitted for a business career I gained scant success, except that I took a wife to share my poverty — a gentle natured woman who gave me devotion and love but was unable to further my fortunes because her nature was weaker than my own.
“T was led into an illegitimate venture by a friend named José Marrow, an enterprising Mexican who owned a sloop and proposed that I join him in smuggling laces and cigars from Mexico into the United States. We succeeded for a time and I made considerable money. But at length I was discovered, as was inevitable, and only saved myself from imprisonment by sudden escape. Marrow managed to get me aboard a vessel bound for Gibraltar and I was obliged to leave my wife and baby boy without the comfort of a farewell, although I sent them all the money I had and my friend Marrow promised to see they were provided for in case I was unable to send them more before it was gone. But I thank God I have been able to supply their wants, and each year I have sent a substantial remittance to them through Marrow, who by good fortune was never suspected of being implicated in the smuggling-’”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 680