Scarcely had we finished the meal when more Arabs came to lead us from our quarters. We found six camels saddled and kneeling in the village street. Three were our own, and with them were three others that seemed equally good—doubtless the pick of Abdul Hashim’s animals.
The sheik and two stalwart Arabs stood beside the beasts and, as we approached, Abdul Hashim tersely commanded us to mount. We obeyed, selecting our own camels; I ventured to ask if we could not have our rifles, which I saw the sheik and his two men holding. The result was that he not only refused my request, but ordered us carefully searched, and so our knives and revolvers were taken away. These the three coolly appropriated and we were compelled to mount.
Slowly we rode away from the village toward the spot where the three aged palms reared their fronded heads above the sands. Somewhere near their roots there must have been moisture, which welled up from below, but never reached the surface of the desert. It is the only way to account for the life of these trees amid the sandy waste, whereon nothing else was able to grow. Often you meet with such phenomena in tropical climes—vegetation existing seemingly without moisture—but there must be a rational explanation of these remarkable occurrences.
Abdul Hashim seemed moody, and a frown darkened his handsome bronzed features. When we arrived at the palms he turned to us and said:
“I have decided to give you a full hour in which to discover the location of the treasure. To deny that you know where it lies is useless, for if you fail to find it you will all three die here. I will not be burdened with prisoners, and I dare not set you free; so you may preserve your lives but in one way, by finding the treasure.”
This foolish speech made me very indignant with the fellow and discovered the sheik in an altogether new character.
“You must think we are a bunch of idiots!” I exclaimed, angrily. “If you dare not set us at liberty now, you surely would not dare do so after we had found the treasure for you.”
“You may as well kill us now, without farther trouble,” added Archie, gloomily.
“But that would be awkward for Abdul Hashim,” observed Joe, with a quiet smile. “Have we not warned the Cadi[3] at Luxor that we saw the sheik at the window of the bazar, and that we feared mischief at his hands? And did not the Cadi promise us that if harm came to us he would take vengeance on Abdul Hashim?”
I looked at Joe admiringly. It was all pure invention, but I could see that the remark impressed the sheik and caused him to waver in his purpose.