“Thou art our light!” they cried. “Lead us, O Daughter of the Sun! and we will follow thee.”
“Is the Roumi yonder thine ally and friend?”
“Yes,” they answered. “Already have we given him ‘peace.’”
“May the Giver of Good Gifts bestow upon thee blessing!” I cried, in acknowledgment of their declaration of friendship. I was about to address some words to the woman I loved, when suddenly I remembered she had forbidden me to speak, and stood gazing at her in silence. Upon the sinister face of Hadj Absalam there rested a dark look of displeasure. Zoraida was doing her best to save me, but in the crafty eyes of the Sheikh there lurked treachery and deadly hatred.
A pause ensued. Zoraida, standing erect and glancing around her, smiled as if a great weight had been at last lifted from her mind, while her women on either side slowly moved their great fans of yellow ostrich plumes.
A few seconds later, the two cadis who had accompanied the Sheikh advanced, and, taking up the Drum of Nâr, knelt before her.
“Lo! the note of victory soundeth!” she cried. “From this moment none shall rest until the banner of the Ennitra hath been planted on the Fáda of Agadez!” and with her open palms she suddenly struck the drum, and beat a rolling tattoo, that swelled louder and louder, and then gradually died away.
The call to arms caused the wildest enthusiasm, and the final notes of the rude, ancient instrument were drowned by the fierce war-cries that rent the air on every side. All seemed filled with delight at the prospect of the fight, and these shouts were repeated as the Drum of Nâr was beaten in a similar manner by the outlaw Sheikh himself, whose bearded face seemed harder than flint.
The stallions of the six mounted Arabs pawed the ground, impatient as their riders, who, on hearing the sound of the drum, yelled themselves hoarse, throwing back their burnouses and flourishing their rifles high aloft.
“Whomsoever thou shalt fight we will fight, O Ruler of the Desert!” they shouted, and again the cry was taken up by the people, who, amid a scene of intense excitement, handled their knives, swords, and guns, vowing to give no quarter to their enemies, and to make no halt until the Fáda had fallen into their hands.