“Because the great chief is suspicious of our honesty, and we want him to believe we are honest. Also because Gege-Merak’s word is sacred, and he will be faithful when he is paid. For a third reason, it will be just as well for you not to carry that gold across the desert and back again, when the chief is able to put it away in a safe place before we begin the journey.”
Gege-Merak listened carefully and it was evident he approved this argument. But he said nothing and merely looked at me inquiringly.
Of course, if the natives would prove faithful, the Professor’s plan of advance payment was best. After a look toward Uncle Naboth, which he answered with a nod, I drew out another fifty pounds and counted it upon the mat beside the first.
“Now, Gege-Merak,” said I, “you are paid in full.”
CHAPTER IX.
ACROSS THE BLACK MOUNTAINS.
The cruel little eye of the chief twinkled brightly at sight of all this golden display, but he made no motion to gather it up. Instead, he turned his keen glance first upon me and then upon the others of our party, as if striving to gauge our thoughts, and read our secret characters.
“I will see the other Americans,” he finally said.
The Professor summoned Ned Britton, Archie, Joe, Bry, and the sailors, and soon they all stood wonderingly before the Bega chief. He examined each one with silent interest, down to the smallest item of attire. He nodded and asked them to again withdraw.
“Effendi,” said he, addressing me when the others were gone, “you are deceiving me in regard to your errand. Your party is strong and heavily armed. You ask me for brave warriors to assist you, and for my own services as guide. All this is not usual with peaceful traders or travelers who wish to cross the desert to Luxor on an errand of simple business. Another thing. You willingly pay me a big price—more than my service is really worth. Again, you ask for two extra camels, bearing empty saddle-bags. Therefore you have a secret intention you do not reveal to me. The little red-beard’s eyes are bright with fever. You all expect trouble. You may get me mixed with your trouble, so that the authorities will imprison me and scatter my tribe. I am a good subject of the mighty Sultan and our father the Khedive. Therefore I refuse the compact. Take your gold, Effendi, and return to Koser.”
This speech of the wily chief fairly took away my breath. Uncle Naboth seemed disappointed, and the Professor trembled nervously. I am sure our various emotions were clearly apparent to Gege-Merak, for his roving eye bore an expression of grim amusement.