“We would lead them astray, O my lord, with feigned pursuit of their scouts, and running fights, until we were either safe on our own land or could slip through them into Es Sham, but that would need many days, and if they contrived to separate us one from another, evil might come to my lord.”
“Evil might also come to some of them,” suggested Cyril.
“Doubtless, but if their object is rather to delay my lord than to hurt him, they might attain it with little danger to themselves.”
“Hullo! they seem to be coming to meet us,” said Mansfield, as a group of mounted men appeared from behind a sandhill some distance in front. The sheikh cast his eye over his own troop, and ordered a halt. Here on the open plain there was no possibility of an ambush, but his men unslung their long matchlocks, and the travellers locked to their rifles.
“They seem friendly,” said Cyril, as the sheikh of the opposite party, distinguished by his gold-embroidered crimson cloak, rode out from among his men, making signs that he had left his weapons behind, and desired an amicable conference.
“Stay thou here, O Prince of the Jews,” said the sheikh, “and let the father of a writing-book leave his gun and ride forward with me, that we may hear what this dog has to say. Never yet have I spoken in peace with a man of the Beni Ayub.”
Mr Hicks, who owed his name to the note-book which was his inseparable companion, handed his rifle to Mansfield, remarking that he supposed the surrender of his revolver was not necessarily included in the bond. If it was, he had, at any rate, a weapon at hand which would astonish the Arab who tried any foolishness with him, and as he spoke he patted a coil of thin rope which he had procured at Sitt Zeynab and insisted on looping to his saddle, to the mystification of his companions. Thus provided, he rode forward with the sheikh, who halted at a discreet distance from the representative of the other party, and asked what the Beni Ayub were doing in that portion of the desert. As the district in question was claimed by the Beni Ayub, their sheikh disregarded the enquiry.
“We come in peace, O sheikh of the Beni Ismail, hearing that the Prince of the Jews is a sojourner in the tents of thy people. Why does he pass by the Beni Ayub in his return to Es Sham? Does not the desert belong to us also? Let him turn aside and visit our tents, that we may make peace with his nation, and there be no ill blood between us.”
“The Prince of the Jews will return at another time and visit you,” said Mr Hicks, anticipating the angry reply which the sheikh had in preparation. “At present he is journeying to Es Sham in haste.”
“What is his haste to us?” was the retort. “Shall we allow the Beni Ismail, who obey a woman, to laugh at our beards because the Prince of the Jews has sojourned among them? Let the Prince visit our tents, or we will come and take him.”