We halted before the house of the chief, and after conferring together our escort conducted my uncle, the Professor, and myself into the building. We found ourselves in a large, cool room, lighted and aired by open spaces between the top of the walls and the roof. At the rear was a dark passage, doubtless leading into other apartments, but the appearance of the interior was extremely primitive and unattractive.
Upon a rush mat at one side of the room sat a young girl, her slender form graceful and upright, her dark eyes fixed curiously upon us. She seemed about fifteen years of age, but may have been two or three years younger, for the women of these desert gypsies mature early in life. Her hair, unlike that of the other Bega we had seen, was not bushy and cloudlike, but its luxuriant tresses were heavily plaited into several braids, two hanging in front over either shoulder and two others dropping behind her back. On her arms or ankles were broad bands or bracelets of silver, some of them set with odd stones of strange colors and shapes. Golden bangles—perhaps Persian or Arabian coins—were strung together on wires and woven into the braids of her hair. She wore a robe of some thin, strong material which was striped in alternate bands of scarlet and green—a robe more becoming than its description sounds, I think—and across her rounded shoulders was folded a Syrian scarf covered with rich embroidery.
The girl was undeniably handsome. She would have been conspicuous by reason of her beauty in any civilized community. Here, surrounded by a barbaric desert tribe, she seemed a veritable daughter of Venus.
I could not stare long at this gracious sight, for beside the girl sat, or rather squatted, a personage whose powerful individuality compelled attention.
Gege-Merak—for I did not doubt I beheld the chief—was a withered, wrinkled old man scarce five feet in height when standing upright, a veritable dwarf among his handsome, well formed subjects. One eye—the right one—was gone, and across the sightless cavity and reaching from his cheek to his forehead, was a broad, livid scar as from the slash of a knife or a sword-cut. The other eye, small and glittering, regarded us with a glare as disconcerting as that of a snake, it being set in his face deep amid the folds of wrinkled flesh. His chin protruded and his thin lips were closed together in a straight line, while his bushy hair was snow-white in color, denoting great age.
I own I was amazed to find the famous chief so different from his people; and when I realized that we had voluntarily put our lives into the keeping of this old, evil-featured Bega, I began to suspect there was a foundation for the Arab sheik’s persistent croak of danger. Still, as Gege-Merak sat huddled upon his mat, motionless save for that roving, terrible eye, it occurred to me that he was too old and feeble to lead the caravan himself, as he had sent word to us that he would do, and without doubt would delegate the task to some other.
At our entrance the warriors knelt to their chief and crouched subserviently their foreheads to the mat; but afterward they stood erect in a group at one side. They neither saluted nor appeared to notice the girl at all.
“So,” said Gege-Merak, in a quiet voice and speaking excellent English. “Here are the travelers who wish to be led to Luxor. What is your errand there?”
He looked from one to another of us, and I took upon myself to answer him, as the Professor seemed to hesitate.
“Sir, that is our business alone,” I declared, stiffly. “All that we require from you is your camels, your warriors to guard us, and a guide.”