He discoursed on business and other things, despising his audience for their want of appreciation; then fell to bemoaning his fate. Thus the hours passed away.
At last the monotony of the situation was broken. Abdul, like a good Mohammedan, was engaged in his devotions when the Jew, at the mouth of the cave, caught sight of a party of Moors far below, and signalled to them before he could be prevented. Springing up, Abdul was on the point of killing him with his knife when Schwab hastily interposed.
“No, I vill not have it,” he said. “You kill him; zen am I accomplice; and vat is zat for a kind of business, I say?”
But he did not decline to assist Abdul to truss up the Jew and render him incapable of further mischief. No more than Abdul himself did he wish to attract visitors.
The mischief, however, was already done. The Moors, a search party despatched by the sheikh, had observed the Jew’s signals, and at once spurred their horses across the country until they reached the foot of the precipitous ascent. They dismounted: one of them began to climb up. For a time Abdul watched his progress; then, when he thought the man had mounted far enough, he threatened to hurl him from the face of the cliff if he advanced another step upwards. It was so obviously in Abdul’s power to make good his threat that the Moor hesitated; then, in response to an encouraging shout from below, he again began to climb. He may have reflected that his comrades could afford to shout; they were not clinging like a fly to the face of an almost perpendicular wall of rock; but he may have reflected also that great would be his praise and reward if he succeeded in bringing to account the insolent strangers who had done such despite to his sheikh. No doubt also he reckoned on support from the member of the party who had signalled.
Up he came, slowly feeling his way. Abdul bent over the brink, and, just as the man ascended within reach, smartly rapped his knuckles with the butt of Tom’s revolver. At the same moment a shot from below struck the rock within an inch of his head. Abdul at once darted back within the shelter of the cave; but the climber, taught by the sharp blow he had received, ventured no farther, and shortly afterwards began to descend. When he reached the party below, it was clear that he met with a reprimand from the leader for his want of courage; but he sullenly refused to make another attempt, and seemed by his gesticulations to invite each of his comrades in turn to take his place. But nobody came forward, and after an excited discussion—portions of which were in tones so loud that Abdul was able to interpret to Schwab, nervously eager to learn what was to be done—a messenger was sent off in the direction of Ain Afroo, while the five or six who remained settled down to keep watch at the foot of the precipice.
“ABDUL BENT OVER THE BRINK AND SMARTLY RAPPED HIS
KNUCKLES WITH THE BUTT OF TOM’S REVOLVER.”