“Pass not the sentence of death upon him this night, mistress,” suddenly cried Bowlegs, waddling forward. “He has grievously insulted thee, as has the white woman, but let him live for a space and under the eyes of Al-Asad teach us his cunning tricks, for, behold! if ’twere but a question of muscle even could I pinch his life out ’twixt thumb and finger. After we have learned the tricks, then——”
A shout of appreciation followed hot upon his words of wisdom. Helen in despair fought to free herself so as to protect her lover, whereupon Zarah looked slowly in her direction.
“And the woman?”
“Kill her! Sink her in the sands of death! Give her to the dogs! Drive her out into the Empty Desert!”
Zarah shook her head at the suggestions shouted by men who are taught in their religion that woman is devoid of soul, and therefore to be looked upon either as a plaything or a drudge, or the potential bearer of sons, and, in any case, far below the level of the horse at her very best.
“Death is but a closing of the eyes in sleep.” Zarah translated the line she had learned at school. “And I would keep her wide-eyed in life, working as work the women she has mocked.” She caught the horror in Ralph Trenchard’s eyes as he looked from her to Helen, who stood mute, her heart aglow at the thought of her lover’s safety for the moment. Lost to all thought of self, she but half understood Zarah’s words, and looked questioningly from the men to her and back.
“Yea! Ralph Tr-r-enchar-r-d!” said Zarah slowly, pouring the balm of revenge into her smarting wounds. “To work as my servant, to wait upon me, to serve me, even as thou shalt work under the ruling of that fool, who would even now be dead if it were not for the thickness of his skull.” She held up her hand as the men shouted. “Has the white man aught to say, the man who changes his coat to the wind? The white woman at dawn, the Arabian at noon, the white woman at dusk, and Allah knows which in the watches of the night!”
“You liar! You despicable coward! There isn’t a word of truth in what you say, you liar!”
Helen’s words, forcible, if somewhat lacking in diplomacy considering her position, rang through the room, and Yussuf, standing hidden just outside the door, raised the electric torch he held as a sign to “His Eyes” standing outside the kennels deserted by the grooms, who, against orders, had crept to the feast en bloc, instead of in shifts. Yussuf, who knew his brethren backward and looked upon them as children, had planned the death of the Arabian and the escape of the whites as a grand finale to the day’s festivities.
For the last half-hour the dogs, headed by Rādi the bitch, had been driven to the point of madness by “His Eyes,” who had drawn one of Zarah’s sandals across the bars of the kennels, inciting them to a very lust to kill.