At this moment, a man came out of the darkness and sat down by the chief's side; plainly he was on intimate terms with him. At first, St. Just regarded him idly, out of mere curiosity; then, as though in a dream, the present scene was blotted out, and he saw himself again in Cairo, and in front of him was a house, and from that house came forth a man bearing a woman on his shoulder. Quick as lightning did this scene flash across him, and as quickly did it pass, and he was once more in the present. Forgetting his position as a captive, and with the cry of "Yusuf!" on his lips, he sprang forward and made a rush at the new comer.
Instantly the latter started to his feet. In a moment he had recognized the speaker, and, drawing a pistol, he fired point blank at the French officer. The bullet whizzed past his head and flattened itself against the rock behind him.
At a word from the chief, four men sprang up and seized the would-be assassin and bore him out of sight. This done, the old man thus addressed his counsellors. "Yusuf, because he is my nephew, have I spared; but for that, he would have died; first, because he deserted my daughter the lady Halima, when the invaders came; secondly, because he has outraged justice by firing upon a prisoner undergoing trial. For this I have decreed that Yusuf be banished from our tribe for ever."
A murmur of approbation went round the circle. The chief continuing, addressed St. Just, "As to you, know that I am him you seek; and this is my answer to your General's letter. For myself and on behalf of my tribe, I refuse to accede to his request. No bribes or promises shall make me turn my arms against my country. Yet, because he has spared my daughter, will I stand aloof; I will take no part against him. You can tell him this, if you live to see him. But the chances are against you, for you, a messenger of peace, have fired upon my tribe."
The venerable gentleman forgot to state that his people began the firing; possibly, in the one-sided view he took, he overlooked it. "For this," he went on, "justice demands that there shall be shot for shot; accordingly, you will take your stand on the top of yonder rock, and ten of the youngest of the camp children of those able to bear arms, shall fire a shot each at you. If you survive, then shall you go free. As I have said, so let it be."
He ceased speaking, whereupon the circle broke up, and all took up a position in front of the tent.
Now, the distance from the rock to the tent was but forty yards, and the rock itself, on the top of which St. Just soon found himself, tied so that he could not move, was about twenty feet high by only two feet broad. And here he stood, looking down upon the scene upon which the silvery moonbeams fell, waiting for the death he felt was close upon him. Outwardly he was calm, for he had faced death too often to display fear of it; but a tumult raged within his breast. It was hard to die so young, and, for an instant, such anguish took possession of him that, but that his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth, he would have pleaded for mercy; but, the next moment, the word 'Courage' was whispered in his ear, and the voice that whispered it was Halima's. Doubtless this was the result of imagination acting on an overwrought mind, but it steadied him, and his failing heart revived.
The next instant, there was a flash, followed by the ping of a bullet, and the report of a gun echoing among the rocks. A voice below counted "One," in Arabic; then there was a pause. The bullet had missed. The second, aimed better, grazed his ear. The third passed through the fleshy part of his shoulder and buried itself in the stake behind him. The fourth and fifth shots hit the rock at his feet; and the sixth passed through the rope that bound him, almost severing it. The seventh, eighth and ninth flew wide. After that, there was a long pause.
Presently the Frenchman heard a howl of exultation, and a tall, graceful youth took his place in front of the living target, resting his weapon on the ground, with the air of a practiced marksman. From where he stood, St. Just could see the youngster's black eyes twinkling with joy, while he glanced along the barrel; for was he not the best shot of the tribe, and his aim deadly? A second's pause, then, carefully pressing the trigger, the marksman fired.
St. Just felt as though a hot iron had seared his side, and he knew that he was hit. Unconsciously, he bounded into the air with the shock; thereby bursting the already half severed rope. Then, falling over and over, he landed, not on the ground, but on a projecting corner where he was held suspended by his tunic.