When rambling on the skirts of the black tented camp, under close surveillance, however, Allan observed that the tomb of the Santon had a remarkably broad and peculiar cornice round its dome, that it was curved upward like the rim of a billycock hat, and that a vine tendril of considerable strength had ascended, in the lapse of years, from the base to the summit of the dome; and thus he conceived, if he could ascend thereinto unseen, he might lie en perdue, till the tribe departed, and then he should be safe.
The day before the tents were to be struck, Zeid ordered some food to be procured by his huntsmen, who—though the food of the tribe was generally farinaceous—succeeded in capturing some of these gazelles that live in the open plain, where they browse upon the saline and pungent herbage.
Fully experienced in the haunts and habits of these animals, Abdallah and others concealed themselves in a hollow dug out of the sand and carefully covered over with brambles, and there they captured their prey by means of a rude network attached to stakes—the former being slightly concealed in the sand, and raised by means of a rope pulled when a number of the herd has ventured within its precincts. Thus twenty or thirty of these beautiful creatures, with their bright hazel eyes, spiral horns, and slender limbs were taken at a time.
The gun was used only when other means failed, as ammunition is too costly for ordinary occasions in obtaining the supplies of food. Allan, while hovering about the huntsmen, effected a final reconnaisance of the Santon's tomb, and resolved to make the attempt that very night.
When sudden darkness fell as usual, instantly after sunset, and no moon as yet had risen, while Zeid and his family were busy with their final ablutions and prayers, Allan—his bold heart beating wildly the while—crept softly out of the tent, under the uplifted canvas wall thereof, and crawling flatly on his hands and knees, with the blade of his drawn sword in his teeth, began to leave the hated encampment behind him.
It was a time of keen and poignant excitement. Every moment he expected to hear an outcry announcing that he was missed from his place, or seen even amid the gloom and obscurity, by the keen eye of some practised son of the desert.
Fortunately all were at their prayers or engaged in preparations for departure on the morrow, and, as the distance increased between himself and the dark camp, his spirit began to rise, and he thought to himself, why had he not made this attempt before? But, sooth to say, it would have been impossible, as he was less watched latterly than he had been at first.
Even at the distance of half-a-mile he did not assume an erect attitude, lest his figure might be seen between the sky and horizon, but continued to creep steadily on, till at last he ventured to rise from the ground, and strode swiftly towards the tomb of the Santon, which was about two miles from the camp.
The stars were coming out now, and a sigh of relief escaped him as he reached it—a sigh that ended in an exclamation of dismay as a tall Bedouin, who seemed to spring from the ground, so sudden was his appearance, stood face to face with him, and in a moment he recognised Abdallah, the second in command under Zeid!
He perceived Allan's sword in his hand, and, knowing that he was escaping, drew a pistol from his girdle—a pistol the explosion of which would have proved most disastrous, but by one trenchant stroke Allan hewed the Arab's left hand off by the wrist, and hand and pistol fell on the sand together.