Because he had had a whole night's start, and the pursuing Druse should have been hampered by the necessity for working out his trail, Ali had not expected them before midday. Something had gone amiss. Possibly, during the night, Ali and Ben Akbar had passed another outpost that they had not seen, but that had managed both to shadow them and to send word back to the camp. Perhaps the outpost had even consisted of the three riders of dalul.
Ali concentrated on the three dalul. All were good beasts, but none were outstanding, and, in an even contest, none could have come near to matching Ben Akbar's speed. No, however—
Ali turned to Ben Akbar and said gently, "Kneel."
Ben Akbar obeyed. Ali mounted and gave the command to rise, then to run. He unsheathed the dagger and held it in his hand. The Druse were armed with guns, which they knew how to use, but there were good reasons why they would hesitate to shoot one lone man. In the first place, powder and shot were expensive and to be used only when nothing else sufficed. In the second, when the odds were twenty-three to one, the Druse who shot when he might have killed his enemy with sword or dagger must lose face as a warrior.
The dagger in his hand was Ali's only concession to the possibility that he might be overtaken. When and if he was, might Allah frown if at least one of the Druse did not join his ancestors before Ali did likewise.
Other than that, the race was not unpleasant. Weary though he was, the power and strength that Ali had seen in Ben Akbar when the young dalul stood captive in the Druse camp were manifest now. Ben Akbar flowed along, seeming to do so almost without effort, and Ali thought with wonder of the magnificent creature this dalul would be when properly fed and rested. Only when Ben Akbar stumbled where he should have run on was his rider recalled to the grim realities of the situation.
He did not have to look behind him because he knew what lay there. Having been detected when they appeared over the crest of the far hillock, the Druse must still descend it, cross the gulley and climb the opposite hill before they could be where Ali had been when they saw him. Though they must know that Ben Akbar was not in condition to run his best, they certainly knew the quality of such a camel. Looking from the crest of the hill upon which Ali had been sighted and seeing nothing, they could by no means be certain that camel and rider had not already gone out of sight on the hill beyond. A terrified fugitive would logically run in a straight line.
A third of the way down the hill, Ali gave Ben Akbar the command to turn left. He was about three hundred yards from the floor of the gulley and the same distance from its head, where a thick copse of mingled Aleppo pine and scrub brush offered more than enough cover to hide a whole caravan. Reaching the thicket, Ali halted Ben Akbar and dismounted. Then he turned and waited for the Druse to appear.
Led by the three riders of dalul, they broke over the crest at the exact spot where Ali had been sighted. They did exactly as he had hoped they would and raced straight on. A smile of satisfaction flitted across Ali's lips as the advance riders swept past that place where he had turned Ben Akbar.
Then something went amiss.