As Burnet drew nearer to the river, the grasses and reed-like plants of the marsh grew taller and thicker. Immense white lilies and other flowering plants showed their blossoms here and there; water-birds of all kinds, disturbed by the passage of the horse, flew out in all directions, among them a stately pelican or two, indignant at being molested in their solitary retreats. Encompassed by these dense masses of vegetation, Burnet was effectually hidden from his pursuers, who could only follow his trail; and he felt a joyous confidence that their horses were not likely to be so clever as his own.
At last, the river came suddenly into view—or rather, the remains of an ancient embankment a few feet above the surface of the marsh, covered thick with creeping plants. A touch on the horse's flank sent the animal bounding up the embankment, and then Burnet reined up and looked back over the waving sea of grass and reeds. He was just able to descry the heads of the pursuers, at least a mile away.
Burnet looked to right and left, seeking a convenient place for crossing the river, here about two hundred yards wide. There was the risk that if he descended the embankment too hastily, he might find himself embogged in the thick mud that bordered the stream. Riding along southward, he came at length to a deep wady or channel running into the marsh, where the descent seemed fairly easy. He gave the horse a minute or two to recover breath, then rode into the river at the spot where the wady left it. The animal took the water readily enough, but showed a disinclination to go beyond its depth, until Burnet slipped from the saddle and swam along with his hand on the bridle.
He struck out obliquely, hoping to gain the spot on the opposite bank which he had marked as offering an easy landing. Progress was slow, but he was three-fourths of the way across when shouts behind apprised him that the pursuers had reached the embankment. By this time the current had carried him fully two hundred yards below the place where he had entered the water, and some little distance below his chosen landing-place. The pursuers rode along the embankment in the same direction, with the idea, no doubt, of gaining on him by shortening their swim. But the wady brought them to an unexpected check. His horse's tracks showed that it was there he had entered the river; they must either enter it at the same spot, or lose time by crossing the wady first. Two of them chose the former course, and dashed down the bank into the water. The rest dismounted and opened fire on their quarry, now within a few yards of the further bank. The range was five or six hundred yards; the Turks were weary, Turkish irregular cavalry are at no time very good shots, and only the heads of man and horse were above water. Burnet heard the bullets singing past him on either side. The landing-place he had chosen was far to his left. There was no time to seek another convenient spot. With encouraging words to his gallant horse, he led it straight towards the bank, which looked like an impenetrable green wall. The horse found his feet, but at first refused to drive his head at the apparently solid vegetation. Burnet, still holding the bridle, scrambled first into the midst of the plants, and drew the animal slowly up after him. In another half minute both he and the horse had disappeared from the sight of the Turks on the opposite bank.
Burnet hitched the bridle to a bamboo-like stalk, and returned to the edge of the bank, where he could watch the pursuers through the dense mass of reeds. The two swimmers had already turned their horses' heads; the men on the bank were evidently debating the question of their next move. They were presently rejoined by their comrades; the discussion was continued for a little; then they all turned their backs upon the river and disappeared behind the embankment.
CHAPTER IX
FRIENDS OR FOES?
Feeling that he was now reasonably safe, Burnet led the horse through the stretch of marsh land that bordered the river until he reached a dry spot, screened by tall grasses, where he could rest and think out his course.
To begin with, he had lost a whole day. With the utmost expedition, and no accidents, he could hardly reach the tell at the time appointed with Captain Ellingford. Moreover, the horse, to which he owed his escape, was now an encumbrance and an embarrassment. The remainder of his journey lay over a parched and barren plain, that provided sustenance for neither man nor beast. The small stock of dates which he had purchased in Meshed Ali would suffice for himself, but not for the horse as well. True, the Arab horse was accustomed to go long distances with little or no food, but it would be two days at the best before he reached the tell, and two days' fast was beyond even the Arab's endurance. Further if by good luck he should meet Captain Ellingford—and that was now doubtful—what could he do with the horse then? He could not return to the British lines except by aeroplane: yet it went much against the grain to abandon the noble animal that had served him so well. If turned adrift and left to forage for himself, the horse would probably pick up a subsistence until he found a new master. A new master! In these regions that could hardly be any one than an enemy. Turkish troops were constantly on the move in the plains between the Euphrates and the Tigris. Burnet was loth to let his prize fall again into Turkish hands. The problem how to save the horse and yet not fail in his appointment with Captain Ellingford was a very hard nut to crack.