While the Crescent remained in my possession, and I was free to journey southward, there was still, I felt, a possibility of some day reaching Agadez. With my treasure filched from me the object of my journey had, however, gone. Though I had travelled so many weary miles towards the City of the Sorcerers, my efforts on Zoraida’s behalf were thus rendered entirely futile, and reflection only filled me with such black dismay and despair, that, had not my knife been wrested from me, I verily believe I should have dealt myself a fatal blow.
My zealously-guarded treasure had in a second passed from my keeping into unknown hands that would most probably toss it away as worthless, yet how could I recover it now that I had been captured by these fierce, brutal slave-raiders, who were reputed to be among the most merciless of the wild freebooters of the Desert?
The disaster overwhelmed me. Bound hand and foot, I stood powerless in the hands of my enemies. The morrow’s sun to me might never rise!
Chapter Twenty Three.
The Treasure of Askiá.
Brief were the moments allowed me for lamentation over my irreparable loss. Amid the wild scenes of carnage the thief had disappeared, and though I just caught a glimpse of his profile, his features had been partially hidden by the haick surrounding his face, and in the dark shadow it was impossible to distinguish his countenance sufficiently to again recognise him. Had my treasure consisted of gold or gems there would have been some ground for hoping for its eventual recovery, but a mere piece of rusted metal, apparently valueless, would doubtless be quickly cast aside. Even now—even while I stood helpless in the hands of my captors—it might have been already tossed away into the rank vegetation of the oasis; it might be lying hidden and unheeded within a few yards of me! Yet so tightly was I bound hand and foot, that the cords cut into my flesh each time I attempted to move. While three tall fierce men of the Fadê, armed to the teeth and as sinister-looking a trio as ever it had been my lot to meet, mounted guard over me, others were with scant mercy securing those of my companions who had survived the sudden ferocious attack, while the remainder of the band gleefully investigated the contents of our camels’ packs, replacing them upon the animals ready for transportation to their own region.
Those of the captured caravan who struggled to get free were shown no quarter. One of my whilom friends, a fine, stalwart fellow, held fast by several of the hostile band quite close to me, fought desperately to rescue a woman of his tribe who was being brutally cuffed by two hulking fellows. For a few seconds he struck right and left, felling one of the men who held him, but ere he could rush forward to protect the defenceless female, a quick knife-thrust caused him to stagger and fall.
“Cowards!” he gasped in his death-agony. “May Allah curse thee and thy sons’ sons! Thou canst not fight fairly! Thou canst only strike by stealth, and make war on women. May thy bodies moulder and drop limb from limb; may the flames of the Land of Torments devour thee; may thine accursed dust be scattered afar by the sirocco, and may thy souls descend into Hâwiyat.”