I was glad to be alone, alone with my fears, my anxieties and my great love, for that Lady Sarah felt the force of my flaming passion I could not doubt. Had she not called me to her side? Had she not looked into my eyes that very evening with an expression which might have led me to the gates of Paradise, had I not been interrupted by Azad’s signal flash?
Azad! The thought of him was a knife in my heart. “On, Thunderer, on.” I urged my willing horse, patting his wet neck and shoulder. Then moved by a sentimental desire for a confidant I leaned forward. The brute seemed to understand for he bent back an attentive ear. “It is for her!” I whispered. Thunderer whirled instantly and Whinney was thrown far into the night.
“Not to her ... for her, you idiot!” I ground out, savagely tugging at the reins and forcing my brace of beasts back toward our passenger. But though we were soon under way again the horses were now restive and difficult to manage.
I had been steering a course by the stars, aiming at a particularly large, red one which looked familiar and which, Whinney agreed, had been directly over our camp. But there must have been something wrong with my calculations. Most Sheiks steer entirely by the heavenly bodies but I had hardly had time to get the hang of them.
The sky was fading to a delicate beryl-green when I decided to let the horses have their own way. As I loosed my rein they turned gracefully at a right angle and broke into an encouraging gallop. Soon the heavens were flooded with the invading light, the stars paled and the sun’s rays shot across the desert. With the sun just peering over the horizon every stunted shrub cast a long blue shadow, every shallow depression became a pool of liquid purple into which Thunderer and his fellow rushed, loose-reined.
We must have ridden a dozen miles out of our way following the red star line and I was beginning to wonder if the intelligence of the Arab horses was all that it was said to be, when I detected a distant something on the horizon. It was still too far off for identification but I scanned it eagerly. A quarter hour passed and I could clearly make out an oasis and beneath it tents—our tents!
“Time to get up,” I yelled, bringing the two horses close together, thus squeezing Whinney’s head gently between their bellies, causing him to open his eyes in astonishment.
“There we are,” I shouted. “Get up, man; climb into your saddle.”
He clumsily obeyed my injunction and having freed my burnous, I gave Thunderer his head and dashed forward, glad to be temporarily rid of my sleepy companion. As I flashed by I had a glimpse of Whinney checking his horse and stopping to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Little did I realize it at the time but my leaving him at that moment was to be one of the determining events of my life, an event without which that life would inevitably have been lost and this story, horrible to think of!—never written.