He repeated the words at each bound of his great black horse, pressing her yet closer to his breast, as if a madness possessed him.
“Never will I wed you!” gasped the frightened girl, trembling in spite of her effort at control. “You are a coward to seize me thus, and you are mad!”
“Yes, mad with love,” he answered in a desperate voice. “I cannot live without you, my Janet. Willing or unwilling, it matters not. You shall be mine, and mine alone!”
She turned and whispered a word in his ear. He laughed.
“So much the better, dear one. We shall not have to wait for a ceremony. This is not England, nor America, but wild, free Baluchistan, and I am master of a host. You are mine—you are mine—you are mine!”
He did not see a great bay speeding across from a neighboring grove to intercept his path. He was kissing the girl’s hair, her neck, her shoulders; hugging her fast in his wild embrace and blind to everything else.
The man upon the bay sat motionless, his huge, muscular frame bent slightly forward to favor the flight of his steed and his eyes fastened upon the Baluch prince and his fair burden.
The minutes were few before the noble bay of Mehmet pressed upon the flank of Kasam’s gelding; the abductor felt a stinging blow upon the neck that lifted him full from his saddle and set him headlong upon the ground; but as he fell Janet was seized in an iron grasp and torn from his arms, being instantly transferred to a seat upon the other horse.
The bay never paused in its rapid flight, but swerved and circled until its head was turned toward Mekran.
Janet, bewildered and stunned by the excitement of her adventure, for a time lay inert within the strong arms of her rescuer. Then, slowly and shyly, she turned her face to his, and meeting the look in his grey eyes she smiled happily and nestled her head against the man’s broad breast.