The way of the spirit

by H. Rider Haggard

Thus brooded Rupert Ullershaw after his fashion when alone, as indeed he loved to be, for he was a man who faced things and found truth oftenest in solitude.

Tired of these reflections, natural as they might be in such a time and spot, at length he rose, went a few paces to look at the lonely grave of a comrade whose working day was over, then with a sigh bethought him that now the afternoon was cooler, he would take some exercise before the darkness fell. Rupert loved all the sights and sounds of Nature, and remembering that the sunset would be fine seen from the top of a cliff behind him, he set to work to toil up the steep slope of sand, following a little track made by the jackals from the river-bank to their holes in the rocks, for he knew that these cunning animals would choose the easiest path.

Reaching the crest at length, he paused a while to look at the endless desert and the fiery ball of the sun sinking towards it so swiftly that he could almost see it move, as it does, or seems to do in Egypt. It was going down behind two distant, solitary mountains; indeed, for a few seconds, perhaps a minute, its great red globe seemed to rest upon the very point of one of these mountains. Contemplating it and them, he recalled a legend which an old Arab had told him, that beyond those mountains was a temple larger and finer than Abu-Simbel. He had asked how far it was away and why no one went there, and learned that it was a great distance off, deep in the desert, and that if anyone looked upon it he died, for it was the home of magicians who did not call on Allah and rejected his prophet. Therefore no one did look, only the legend remained, which, the Arab had added, without doubt was true.

Forgetting the tale of this fabled temple, Rupert pursued his walk past the graves of some of the Khalifa’s emirs who had been wounded in the battle of Toski, a few miles away, and when they succumbed, hastily buried where they died by their retreating comrades. He knew the man who lay beneath one of the rough piles of stones—a brave Dervish of high rank, who had very nearly put an end to himself and his earthly adventures. He could see the fellow coming at him now, yelling his war-cry and shaking his great spear. Luckily he had his revolver in his hand and was able to shoot before that spear fell. The bullet struck his enemy somewhere in the head, for he saw the blood appear and the man reel off from him as though he were drunk. Then he lost sight of him in the turmoil and slaughter, but afterwards was told that he died upon the retreat, and was shown his grave by a prisoner who had helped to bury him.

Whilst he was regarding it with the respect that one brave man has for another, even though that other be a cruel and fanatical heathen, Rupert became aware of a shadow falling upon him, which, from its long, ugly shape, he knew must be cast by a camel. Turning, he perceived a white dromedary bearing down upon him swiftly, its soft, sponge-like hoofs making so little noise upon the sand that he had never heard it coming. On the back of the camel sat an Arab sheik, who held three spears in his hand, one large and two small. Suspecting a sudden attack, as well might happen to him in that lonely place at the hands of a fanatic, he sprang back behind the grave and drew his pistol, whereon the man called out to him to put it up in the name of God as he came in peace, not war.

“Dismount,” answered Rupert sternly, “and throw down your spears.”

The Arab stopped his dromedary, commanded it to kneel, and slipping from the saddle, laid down the spears and bowed himself humbly.

“What are your name and business,” asked Rupert, “and why do you come on me thus alone?”

“Bey,” he answered, “I am Ibrahim, the Sheik of the Land of the Sweet Wells out yonder. I came to your camp with my attendants, and being told that you were here upon the hill-top, followed to speak with you, if it pleases you to open your ears to me.”

Rupert studied his visitor. He was a very handsome but cruel-looking man of about forty years of age, with flashing black eyes, a hooked nose, and a short, pointed beard which had begun to turn grey.