"Why fear, child?" returned the old man, gaily. "Who ever molests the Fakeer?"
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when about twenty men, some of them carrying a small litter, emerged from behind a wall which concealed a narrow lane, and came running towards them, crying out, "Clear the way for the bride!" Zóra thought they were part of a village marriage procession, especially as there were two torches lighted; and drew her grandfather aside to let the people pass; but almost before she could think, she found herself seized, a gag thrust into her mouth, and her grandfather prostrated by a severe blow from a staff. She was then swathed in a saree and lifted into the litter, the bearers of which hurried on at their utmost speed. No noise had been heard of the slight scuffle; no alarm was given. The two door-keepers were in the act of shutting to the ponderous gates, which required their utmost strength, and were taken completely unawares. One of them tried in vain to stop the foremost of the robbers, and was pierced by a spear before he could cry out; the other, who attempted to gain the bastion, was struck down on the first step, and there died. Then the whole gang extinguished their torches, rushed on down the main road till they came to a side path which turned more to the east, among the tall fields of jowaree, pursuing their way in utter silence for the most part, only interrupted by occasional whispers among the gang.
Poor Zóra was utterly helpless. The gag which had been stuffed into her mouth nearly choked her; the cloth by which she had been swathed up to her throat prevented her moving her hands. She remembered when the slaves of Osman Beg took her up at Juldroog they had done it gently, and she could at least breathe freely and scream for help; but this attack on her had been more savage, more determined—was this also her enemy's contrivance? She could not but think so; and his emissaries must have followed her even from Kukeyra. Whither were they taking her? She could see nothing, for the cover of the litter was of black coarse blankets, and was tightly fastened down. Without, too, the night was dark, and a drizzling rain had set in. She felt stupefied by her position, and her thoughts could take no coherent form whatever. For several hours the gang pursued their first rapid pace, not halting to relieve each other under the pole of the litter, but one displacing another, as necessary. The men were not professional bearers, with their regular step; but persons unaccustomed to carry loads, and, in consequence, the poor girl was sorely shaken and bruised against the sides of the narrow crib. She could breathe, but that was all; and any chance of making herself heard was impossible. At last they stopped and set down the litter. Zóra could hear the gentle rushing of water, and supposed the gang had halted to drink, as one of them, slightly opening the side of the litter, felt about until he found her face, and, to her infinite relief, drew the gag out of her mouth. To her surprise the man was civil, and said in good Canarese,—
"You will be thirsty, lady, and here is water; drink. But if you attempt to call out, I cannot answer for your life; you must die. Do you understand?"
"Where am I?" she asked, faintly; "and what have you done with my grandfather?"
"Make yourself easy about him," said the voice; "he is safe where you left him. Ask me no questions, for I cannot answer you; and you will know the rest in time. No harm will come to you, and we dare not injure a hair of your head; but you must save yourself by being perfectly passive. If you cried out so as to cause alarm, my brothers would spear you, and leave you as you are."
Zóra drank eagerly of the water, and felt refreshed and strengthened. The gag was not renewed, and with her teeth she contrived to bite a small hole in the blanket covering. She saw the gang at a short distance sitting together, and their hookah passing round among them. It was too dark to distinguish individual figures, but the sound of the gurgle of the hookah, and its bright light when drawn, showed her their position, and occasionally flashed upon the water which flowed by. Again the man who had before spoken said, "Wait till daylight, and I will bring you some roasted corn. The grain is full and sweet now. You are likely to get little else for two or three days, and if you are quiet you may be let out for a few minutes."
Zóra could not reply. With the drink of water her senses had revived, and the agony of her position became more and more clearly realised. She did not lose her presence of mind; but the impossibility of escaping from so many active and unencumbered men was not to be thought of for a moment. All she could do was to commend herself to the merciful Alla, who alone could effect her deliverance. Strange to say, she had still hope, which her faith served to increase; and if she sobbed and wept almost unceasingly, there yet seemed to be something whispering at her heart, "Fear not, for I, the Lord, am with thee!"
Presently the men took up the litter and moved on, but more slowly than before. They were unaccustomed to carry such a burthen, and already some were complaining of chafed shoulders. Would they put her down and disperse? Then daylight broke; but the rain did not cease, and the fields of corn and cotton, through which they held their way, grew muddy and soft, and the men could proceed with difficulty.
"We must seek for some shelter," said a voice, which appeared to have authority among the gang. "We are now on the lands of Kohutnoor, and we may find a shepherd's hut somewhere; and two of you run to Hippurgah and see if some of our people will come, for we must go on again at nightfall."