"He richly deserves death," he whispered, taking in at a glance the situation, "but to fire a shot would cause a general battle and the defeat of our plans." He then turned to the scowling chief.
"Mount your camel and go," he said. "Hamet Bashaw wants no one in his ranks who, under pretense of loyalty to a cause, comes to steal a girl who despises him."
The Arab, without replying, mounted his camel and rode away with his attendant. We saw a small group detach themselves from the main body and follow him.
"A good riddance!" the general muttered. Then, seeing Mustapha, he delighted the youth by saying, "You, my boy, are worth a hundred such fellows!"
The Nubian woman, who had been choked into insensibility, now staggered out of the tent and relieved me of my burden—one that I was none too glad to surrender.
The girl murmured something to me in Arabic as she re-entered the tent, including Mustapha in her glance. I looked at him questioningly.
"She said," the lad explained, "that her heart is overflowing with gratitude to you and myself for rescuing her."
General Eaton ordered that the maiden's tent be continually guarded after that. I managed to be selected for sentinel duty more often than anyone else. Mustapha also stood guard with me. The girl sat in the door of her tent looking up to the stars. With Mustapha interpreting, we chatted. I told her about America and Baltimore and assured her that once she was out of the desert, a happy life would open for her. She asked shy questions about the girls of the United States—what they wore; how they occupied themselves. I heard her and the Nubian woman laughing when I said, rather abruptly, that I had not paid attention to the looks and habits of girls at home. I taught her a few words of English—"America," "ship," "friend," "good morning," and "good night."
When we reached Derne, a few days after the encounter I have described took place, the girl went aboard one of the American warships. The last I saw of her was when she stepped timidly into a cutter, assisted by General Eaton. I stood on the shore watching. I saw her glancing back at the shore and I am sure I saw a motion of her hand in response to my furious waving. From that hour I began thinking of home more than I had ever thought of it before. And Mustapha and I, when we walked back to our tents, never spoke a word to each other the whole way.