Casting their flashlights into the shadows not penetrated by the feeble rays of the lamp which Ali had found and lighted, the boys discerned a heavy curtain cutting off one part of the tent. Ali came up to them.
“That is the women’s quarters,” he said. “Sheik Abraham kept his three wives there. I have never been here before. The oasis is far from all travel routes and Sheik Abraham rarely, if ever, got to the bigger desert towns and villages. But I believe he must have had three wives, for there are that many divans. Ordinarily it would be death for an unbeliever to penetrate into the women’s quarters. Sheik Abraham is a Mohammedan, of course.” He shrugged. Ali was a cosmopolite and to the boys spoke cynically of all religion. Yet they had seen him spread his prayer mat and perform his devotions night and morning with the other Arabs.
“Now,” said Ali, lifting the curtain, “you can see an Arab sheik’s selemlik without fear. Behold.”
After all, the boys were disappointed. Desultory reading about Arab sheiks had led them to expect they knew not what. Certainly, handsome tents, softly carpeted, filled with silks and perfumes, with shining lances and silver-mounted rifles. As for the selemlik, or women’s quarters, they believed such a place would be a nest of beauty.
Instead, there were three or four divans covered with rugs of faded patterns and colors, a cheap cracked mirror hanging askew on one wall of the tent, a veil thrown awry over one divan, and that was all.
Ali explained.
“The women left in haste,” he said. “Perhaps, they were carried off by the attackers. Yet they had time to bundle their clothes and take them along.”
Questions burned on the boys’ lips, and they flung them at Ali. Who had attacked? Had the whole tribe been carried off into captivity? Why had the Professor and his faithful servant, Ben Hassim, alone been killed?
Ali shook his head. They must wait until the old woman was in a state to be questioned. Perhaps, too, some information could be wrung from the lips of the wounded captive, although it was possible from his appearance that he did not speak Arabic. Never had Ali seen a man dressed as he, and a white man, too. It was all a nightmare, non-understandable. Let the boys wait until Allah sent an interpretation.
With this they had to be content. Dropping the curtain, they emerged into the main portion of the tent, finding Mr. Hampton absorbed in his attempt to revive the wounded prisoner. He looked up only long enough to explain he had been unable to find any wound from bullet, sword or spear. The man had been felled by a blow on the head. Mr. Hampton was not certain whether concussion of the brain had followed.