“I am slave of the most handsome mistress in the world,” he said happily. Then, urging her to warn the Sultan of the intentions of the Kanouri, he kissed her once tenderly upon the lips, lifted her into the saddle of her gaily caparisoned horse, and then she twisted her torn veil about her face, and, giving him “Peace,” sped away swift as an arrow into the darkness, bearing intelligence that would cause the utmost sensation in the mountain fastness.
“I love her,” murmured Hatita, when the sound of her horse’s hoofs had died away. “But how can I save her? To-morrow, when we enter Afo and loot the Palace, she will be secured to grace our Sheikh’s harem. No!” he cried, with a fierce, guttural imprecation. “She shall never fall into Nikále’s brutal hands—never while I have breath!”
The sound of whispering caused him to fix his gaze upon a dark shadow thrown by some ethel-bushes, and next second, half a dozen men similarly attired to himself advanced.
“So, dog of a spy! thou hast betrayed us!” cried a voice, which in a moment he was startled to recognise as that of Mohammed El Sfaski, a kaid of his tribe.
“Yes,” the others shouted with one accord; “We watched the son of offal speaking with the woman, and we overheard him telling her to warn the Sultan!”
“Follow her on the wings of haste!” cried the kaid. “Kill her, for death alone will place the seal of muteness upon the lips of such a jade;” and in a few seconds two white-robed figures vaulted into their saddles and tore past in the direction Kheira had disappeared.
“Speak!” thundered El Sfaski, who with the others had now surrounded him. “Knowest thou the punishment of traitors?”
“Yes,” answered Hatita hoarsely.
“Who is the woman whose blackness and deceit hath captivated thee?”
Three rapid shots sounded in the distance. The Arabs had evidently overtaken and murdered the daughter of the Sultan! The young tribesman held his breath.