In a moment he realized that this was no dream, but that they were in truth attacked. He had no occasion to rouse Mahmoud; the lad was a light sleeper and the noise had waked him. Both drew their swords and rushed on to where the conflict was proceeding. His men were contending against fearful odds, and the result of the encounter could not be doubtful. He saw the hopelessness of their position, and felt that death was staring him in the face; for all that, he did not hesitate an instant, but threw himself upon the nearest foe. Before their swords had crossed, he had recognized him as Yusuf; then he knew there had been treachery; it was impossible the man could have been there by chance. This sudden recognition and the thought it prompted, disconcerted him, and, for the moment, threw him off his guard. Yusuf was a skillful swordsman, and had had more practice with the desert weapon, with which both were armed, than had St. Just. The Arab began to press him sorely, and the young Frenchman found that he had met more than his match. Still desperately he fought on, the personality of his opponent lending fury to his attack. Indeed, both were animated by the same passion, jealousy, for Yusuf had recognized in the other the man who had snatched Halima from his arms and usurped his position in the tribe. His look of malignant triumph was awful to behold, for in his eyes his hated rival was already slain. With a skillful movement of his flexile wrist, he sent St. Just's sword flying, then drew back his arm to make the lunge that should deal the death stroke. The Frenchman felt that in another moment he would have done with life. But that moment did not come. Before the Bedouin could deal the blow, Mahmoud, who had been watching his opportunity, got behind him and ran him through the heart. Yusuf with a groan, threw up his arms and fell heavily to the ground. Before St. Just had had time to realize his respite, a blow on the head felled him also, and he knew no more.
CHAPTER XXIII.
After the description of the affray with which the preceding chapter closed, the reader will scarcely need to be informed that the message from Halima's old nurse to Yusuf duly reached that worthy.
After a few inquiries, St. Just's messenger had discovered him in Cairo, and told him of the treasure which, it was believed, was to be forwarded to the city.
Forthwith Yusuf had set to work to utilize the information. Having no means or followers of his own, it would be necessary to invoke outside assistance. After casting about in his mind for a suitable associate, he had pitched upon a man, with whom he had some acquaintance, who followed the combined callings of pirate and slave dealer; a man who, from his daring, unscrupulousness and ferocity, as well as more than average swarthiness, had earned for himself the sobriquet of Black Ali.
The proposed adventure was quite in Black Ali's line, and he had entered with avidity into Yusuf's scheme. He had grown rich on trading in human flesh, and, accordingly, had found it easy to collect a gang of scoundrels only too ready to place themselves at his disposal for any undertaking, however desperate and lawless. It had been agreed that the treasure they hoped to seize should be scared equally by Yusuf and Black Ali. Arrangements had been quickly made and the filibustering party had set out. It being unknown whether St. Just's party with the treasure would travel by the river or the desert, both routes had been watched. The solitary horsemen St. Just had seen at intervals, from the river, had been Black Ali's scouts, and they had dogged the party all the way, had seen the young Frenchman and some of his followers land at Thebes, and conveyed the news to the slave dealer, who, when night had fallen, had surrounded with his men and set upon the sleepers, with the result already stated. Black Ali had believed that all St. Just's followers had been killed; the attack had been so sudden that they had had no time for their defense; they had hardly been awakened when they had been slaughtered; all but two, who had escaped. No one had been hurt on the side of the marauders, except Yusuf, who, as narrated, had been killed by Mahmoud, a fate no one had regretted, least of all Black Ali, who now saw himself possessed of all the treasure. Mahmoud, like his master, had been struck down, almost as soon as he had run his sword through Yusuf.
Seeing that St. Just and Mahmoud were not seriously injured—only stunned—Black Ali ordered some of his men to carry them to the river bank, whither he, with all his party, made his way. His intention was to capture the large boat with the treasure and to sell as slaves such of the crew as should not be killed, or too seriously maimed in the approaching contest.
The smaller boat, in which St. Just had landed, and another were drawn up on the river bank. These were quickly launched and crowded with as many men as they would hold; then they were rowed softly and silently to the moored boat, one making for the port and the other for the starboard side. So noiseless was their approach that it was not until they were almost alongside that they were discovered. Then an alarm was raised; but it was too late, for all were asleep, except the watch, and, before they had realized what had happened, the pirates were swarming over the gunwales of the boat. St. Just's men did what they could, but the contest was hopeless from the first. Outnumbered and but half awake, some not having time even to seize their weapons, they were in no position to make a stout resistance. One by one they dropped before the savage onslaught of Black Ali's men, who kept ever increasing in numbers, and pressing forward, while St. Just's men fell back fighting, inch by inch. Two of them, to save their lives, sprang overboard, hoping to swim ashore; they feared less the crocodiles than their human foes. Their leader, the man St. Just had left in charge, fought desperately himself, and urged his followers to do the same. Two of the pirates fell before him to rise no more; but his courage was of no avail; a gigantic Arab rushed up and threw himself upon him, and, by sheer force, beat down his guard, then cleft his skull down even to his chin. He dropped with a dull thud, but no sound escaped his lips. And then, above the clash of arms and the shouts and groans, Black Ali's voice rang out, "Yield and I will spare your lives. Your leader is slain; further resistance has become useless."
There was a pause, and each man's hand was stayed. Then one of the crew called out, "Swear that you will not slay us, if we yield."
"I swear, by Allah," was the pirate's answer.