“Search? What’s the use?” asked the commandant. “The rapidity with which the old scoundrel travels is simply miraculous. To-day he’s here, to-morrow he disappears, and on the third day he is reported completely out of our reach. As on previous occasions, he has, I suppose, retreated beyond Mount El Aghil, and there, idling in his harem, is snapping his fingers and defying us. It is always the same—always.”
“Are his headquarters on Mount Aghil, then?” I asked, for amid all the conflicting reports I had never been able to learn the outlaw’s actual place of abode.
“It is said that his stronghold is perched on an almost inaccessible rock not far from Tiouordeouïn, and that his household consists of nearly a thousand persons.”
“Of whom about half are inmates of his harem,” added the lieutenant, smiling. “According to report current among the neighbouring tribe, the Tédjéhé N’ou Sidi, the ladies of his household include a number of Europeans who have from time to time fallen into his merciless clutches. The favourites are surrounded by every luxury, the proceeds of his raids, while those who fall into disfavour, or whose personal charms deteriorate by age, are disposed of in the very simple method of being thrown over the cliff and dashed to pieces upon the rocks beneath.”
“Horrible!” I exclaimed. “But why does not the Government send a sufficient force to follow him into his fastness and capture him?”
“For several reasons,” answered the commandant. “Firstly, because that portion of the Ahaggar where he has his abode has never been explored; secondly, because, by reason of the zealously-guarded mountain pass by which it is approached, access is impossible except by a strong column, who would meet with a most desperate resistance, and would have to take it by storm. The third, and perhaps most important, reason is, because the region of the Ennitra is declared by all the neighbouring nomad tribes to be a sacred place, where several miracle-working marabouts are buried, and any attempt at desecration by Europeans would certainly cause a holy war all through the Sahara. Therefore the War Department, although the General has urged them times without number to send a column in pursuit of Hadj Absalam, prefer to wait and capture him when in the act of plunder.”
“That will never be, it seems,” I remarked.
“No. Il sait le fin des fins,” laughed Carmier. “It is said that he attributes his extraordinary success in evading us to a woman who is gifted with second sight.”
“A woman?” I exclaimed, surprised. “She’s believed to be a witch, I suppose?”
“Yes, and a young and very pretty one, too. They say her beauty is marvellous, and her power supernatural. While I was in command of the advanced post at Tihodayen, near the salt mines of Sebkha d’Amadghor, three Spahis ventured into the Ikerremoïn Oasis in search of forage, and they declare that they came across her. She was surrounded by a number of slaves, and was lying unveiled under a canopy of white and gold. According to their account, she possesses the beauté du diable, her women make obeisance to her, and the men who approach fall upon their knees before her, kiss the ground, and ask her blessing. It is said, too, that Mulai Hassan, Sultan of Morocco, saw her on one occasion when he crossed the frontier, and offered Hadj Absalam an enormous sum for her, but the superstitious Ennitra threatened a revolt if she were sold. Whether that’s true I don’t know,” he added, shrugging his shoulders and sipping his cognac. “She is evidently Queen of the Desert, and I merely tell you what’s rumoured.”