Count Zarka: A Romance

by Sir William Magnay

As he had doubtless anticipated, D’Alquen answered shortly—

“I will stay here.”

“As you please,” Zarka returned with an acquiescent bow. “After you hear my first shot, it will pay to keep a sharp eye on the rocks over there.”

With that he went off along the path, to all appearances absorbed in the sport. D’Alquen stood with the sharp eye Zarka had advised fixed steadily on the retreating figure and his gun ever ready. “If he turns,” he muttered, “I shall shoot, and then—Heaven help the better man.”

But the wily Count did not turn or halt in his stealthy pace along the rocky path. Perhaps he had a shrewd idea that such a notion might be attended with a certain risk. So he continued to steal on, in true stalker’s fashion, till a curve hid him from sight.

Then D’Alquen was at liberty to turn and survey his situation. It was simple enough. On each side of him was the narrow path, in front the precipice, and behind him a wall or rock some thirty feet high. Now what was Zarka’s game? Not ibex; D’Alquen laughed aloud at the idea. What should he himself do? Clearly not stay there, since that was what the Count expected. He must either retreat by the way they had come or go forwards. He certainly would not turn back; the game was interesting enough to provoke him to follow his worthy guide, so, after, another good look round, he went slowly on.

He came to the bend, round which Zarka had disappeared, without seeing anything to quicken his alertness into action. As he rounded the turn, however, his vigilance increased, and every step was taken with caution.

No sign of Zarka was to be seen, although the path was visible for a considerable distance ahead, and this was the more remarkable as away on the right the forms of several ibex were to be observed. Was Zarka stalking them in hiding? That was scarcely possible, since the course he must have taken afforded no chance of concealment. On D’Alquen crept, his gun almost at his shoulder, and his fierce restless eyes taking in everything round and above him. Suddenly he stopped with a subdued exclamation. The mystery was solved.

He had arrived at a point where a deep fissure in the rocky wall opened upon the path at such a sharp angle as to be invisible from the side of his approach till he was fairly opposite to it. Through this cleft a sort of rugged path ran back, as it seemed, behind the rock, the face of which he had just skirted. Doubtless Zarka had doubled back by this means. D’Alquen hesitated a moment. The narrow way might be a complete death-trap set by the cunning man, who had calculated that his intended victim would follow him. D’Alquen gave another look round, and then seemed resolved to risk it. With his gun ready to fire he sprang up the path and made his way quickly along it. The few seconds it took him to reach the other end of the defile were calculated to make his blood tingle, since he would have been practically at the mercy of a raking shot from above. However he emerged upon the open without this experience, and in another instant his quick eye had detected what it sought, the form of Count Zarka creeping stealthily along the top of the rocks. Keeping well down, and so out of sight, D’Alquen immediately began to follow. When he had gone, as he judged, far enough, he turned and began to crawl upwards, stalking the Count with more than a sportsman’s wariness and zest. Zarka was evidently so intent upon his design that he never glanced behind, at any rate while D’Alquen was in sight. The way he was taking would bring him to the edge of the rocks above the spot where he supposed the other to be waiting, and as his intended victim realized the treacherous scheme a light gleamed in his eyes that boded mischief for the Count. So he followed him, keeping as much as possible under cover of the rocks, stooping as he ran, sometimes crawling, from one shelter to another; ever, when he was exposed, keeping his enemy covered by his gun.

But now Zarka had reached the edge of the rocky wall and stepped cautiously to the very brink with his gun ready to fire down upon the path below. D’Alquen, watching him from behind a jutting rock, laughed, and, walking quietly into the open ground, made quickly towards him. The Count looked up and down the path below; the other thought he heard an exclamation of annoyance from him as he found himself baulked in his benevolent design. Zarka peered over; the temptation to put a bullet through him must have been almost irresistible, but D’Alquen did not pull the trigger of his covering gun. There was now a look of grim amusement in his eyes; having the game in hand, he was evidently loath to spoil it. Zarka drew back, then lay face downwards looking over the rocky wall. D’Alquen gave a little run and came within half a dozen paces of him. With another utterance of disgust Zarka rose to his feet, and, naturally, turned, to find himself covered by D’Alquen’s rifle.