Captured by the Arabs

CHAPTER IX

Across the Desert

AT the Arab’s welcome remark, Bob and Joe sat up with a start.

“At last!” murmured Joe. “Though I’ll admit it doesn’t look much like a desert to me.”

“There’s still quite a bit of vegetation,” said Dr. Kirshner. “But nevertheless, that rocky wall is classed as the mark of the desert’s edge.”

Another small town was left behind. Then, almost without knowing it, they reached Biskra, a modern city that is much frequented by tourists. The train came to a stop at a small but well-built station.

“Here we must get off again,” said Dr. Kirshner. “The train does not leave for Wargla in the daytime because of the excessive heat.”

They found much to interest them the remainder of the afternoon. For Biskra, with its picturesque natives, lanes of dirty houses, quaint cafés, and modern buildings held their constant attention.

That evening the train arrived for Wargla, and the explorers were glad to continue the journey.

For the next eight hours they sped along barren country, only the outline of which could be seen in the darkness. At last they stopped at Tuggourt, formerly the last stop on the railroad.

“It won’t be long now,” sang Joe, as he sat up in his seat expectantly.

The train covered the fifty-mile journey in less than an hour, and then, after gradually moving downhill, it passed through a cluster of mud houses and pulled up at a modern station.

“All off!” said Mr. Holton. “Here’s Wargla, our destination.”

They got their bags off the train, and then stood for some time taking in their environment.

The sun was just beginning to peep from behind a high sand dune, and it was rather easy to make out the landscape. Over to one side was a high minaret of earth, the tallest sun-dried clay mound in existence. Scattered about were numerous clusters of date trees, and to their left was Wargla, glittering with many lights.

“Now what?” inquired Bob, rousing himself.

“Better get to the hotel,” answered Dr. Kirshner. “From what I’ve heard, it has been built but recently, and we’ll have everything of the latest design.”

A sign told them that the hotel was only a short distance away, and picking up their belongings, they walked over to it.

It was all that could be asked for, with modern conveniences that the explorers had not dreamed of enjoying in such an out-of-the-way place.

“Better turn in right away,” suggested Dr. Kirshner. “It isn’t advisable to start the desert journey without having had any sleep.”

After the train trip it felt good to stretch out on the comfortable beds. Despite their youth, Bob and Joe were very tired.

“We must wake up at dawn tomorrow,” Bob reminded his chum. “We’ll have to get our stuff together early.”

Notwithstanding this, the youths’ deep slumber made it necessary for their elders to awaken them. They felt rather sheepish as they arose and noticed that the sun was well up in the sky.

“Guess we haven’t developed our mental alarm clocks yet,” grinned Joe, slipping hurriedly into his clothes.

“Now, boys,” said Mr. Holton, opening the door of their room, “we’re going out to find a guide and camels. You had better come along, so you can practise riding. It isn’t easy to get used to a dromedary’s trot. First, though, go and get your breakfast.”

When the meal was finished, they joined the men in the hotel lobby. Fekmah, as the best-informed concerning the Sahara, acted as the leader.

“The man in charge of hotel told me of worthy man who will be our guide on the expedition,” he said. “He lives at edge of town, not far away.”

“Fine! Then we’ll go there at once.” Mr. Lewis walked over to the door, followed by the others.

The fellow lived in a small, low structure of clay, and although not pleasing to the eye, it probably lessened the intense heat of the fierce desert sun.

Fekmah knocked at the door. A moment later a tall Arab greeted them, his face thin but not indicating that he was possessed of a weak constitution.

“Are you Tishmak?” Fekmah asked.

The Arab nodded.

Fekmah then conversed rapidly in the native tongue, and although the Americans could not catch the meaning of most of the words, they gathered that their friend was succeeding in employing the man to act as a guide. A moment later he confirmed their suspicions.

“He will go,” Fekmah said delightedly. “And his price is right.” He then proceeded to introduce the Americans as best he could in his own language, for the guide could not speak English.

“Now,” began Dr. Kirshner, “what about the camels? Can this fellow, Tishmak, get them? How many will we need? Ask him, Fekmah. I’m afraid I can’t get along very well with his mixed dialect.”

Their friend put the question before the guide, and he at once gave them an answer.

“He says he can get them,” Fekmah translated. “And how many we will need depends on our own taste. But he makes suggest that we use twenty. That is seven for us to ride and thirteen to carry food and other things.”

“All right,” said Dr. Kirshner. “Have him lead us to them now, so that we can practise riding.”

Fekmah again turned to the man, who a moment later nodded and motioned for them to follow him.

Ten minutes later, after having wound through many narrow streets, the explorers found themselves in a large open field at the edge of the town. About them were grazing a hundred or more camels.

“Here we are,” declared Fekmah, his eyes on the idle beasts.

Tishmak had a moment before left for the house. Now he returned with a thin, lithe Arab, who was evidently the owner of the camels.

A short conference between Fekmah and the stranger took place. Then Fekmah turned to the Americans.

“We can have the dromedaries,” he said. “And he is asking only a fair amount. Come and I will pick them out.”

The others followed him over the field, where he singled out twenty of the best-looking beasts.

“Now,” said Mr. Holton, “we want to practise riding before we start on the real journey. Perhaps we’d better do that this afternoon. Then we can load up in the evening and get started in the morning.”

Fekmah nodded.

“We’ll go now and come back this afternoon,” he said.

Shortly after the noon meal the explorers left the hotel, intent upon trying their skill astride the ponderous humps. None of them but Fekmah had ever had the experience of riding on camelback.

“Wonder how it’ll be?” mused Joe.

He soon saw. Aside from a most uncomfortable jerking it was a novel and enjoyable experience, for the time being, at least, surpassing horseback-riding.

“But you’ll soon get tired of it,” said Mr. Holton. “At least Fekmah says so.”

“Dad might say we’ll get fed up on it,” remarked Bob, when they were ready to start back to the hotel. “But I haven’t yet.”

“Nor I,” put in Joe. “But of course, after several days – ”

There was much to be looked after that evening, and it kept the explorers busy. Tishmak acted as leader in securing the food supply, which, however, was also to include canned goods. The naturalists and Dr. Kirshner attended to last-minute preparations, while the youths kept their time busy in helping the others.

Early that night they retired, eager to get all the rest possible.

“Sleep well,” said Mr. Lewis, as the boys jumped in bed. “We’ll have it rough from tomorrow on.”

At four o’clock the next morning Bob and Joe were awakened by Mr. Lewis, and despite the fact that they were still very sleepy, they began the task of getting their belongings together. It took them the better part of an hour, although they worked like beavers.

“We’re ready to leave, boys, if you are,” called Dr. Kirshner, opening the door to their room. “The provisions are on the dromedaries, and Tishmak is ready.”

The youths’ hearts were in their mouths. Leave! Leave for the great Sahara Desert, with its mysteries and thrills and tragedies! They could hardly come to a full realization of the true situation.

“It’ll be great, Joe, old boy,” said Bob, deeply touched. “At the end of this expedition we’ll be full-fledged adventurers.”

The youths went down to the hotel lobby and found their fathers, Dr. Kirshner, and Fekmah. Tishmak, the newly engaged guide, had left for the camels, which he promised to have in readiness.

Fekmah had made arrangements for a mule cart to take their belongings to the spot where the dromedaries were grazing. Bob and Joe had scarcely got the last of their bags down when it arrived, driven by a short, fat native who looked to be a cross between an Arab and a Negro.

The paraphernalia was placed in the wagon. Fekmah climbed up with the driver to direct him to the camels.

“Guess we’ve attended to everything,” said Dr. Kirshner. “Let’s get started. It’s a good ten-minute walk.”

When they reached the place they found Fekmah and Tishmak awaiting them. The packs had been strapped on the dromedaries’ backs, and the ropes had been harnessed from the back of one animal to the head of another, keeping them in single file.

“Well, let’s go,” urged Mr. Holton, after one more glance to make sure that everything was in preparation for the long desert journey.

The explorers got astride the ponderous humps, and then, while the master of camels gave them a cheery farewell, they moved out for the unknown.

The great desert journey had begun.

CHAPTER X

Questionable Strangers

BEFORE long the little town of Wargla vanished from the horizon, and a sense of dread crept over Bob and Joe at the thought that they were now shut off completely from the outside world. What tragedies might befall them before they would again see the United States? There were all sorts of dangers out on that vast stretch of wasteland. Would their lives be threatened – and possibly lost?

Bob glanced back and saw the worried look on his chum’s face. That Joe’s thoughts had been the same as his was evident.

“Snap out of it, Joe, old man!” he said, rousing himself. “Think of the fun we’ll have. And the strange sights we’ll see. It’ll be great. And behind it all lies adventure.”

Joe nodded. His face took on a smile as he anticipated the coming events.

“Wonder what adventures we’ll have?” he mused. “But I suppose we’ll soon see.”

The boys were at the end of the little caravan, keeping an eye on the pack camels. Although ropes had been fastened from the back of one animal to the head of another, keeping them in single file, it was best to guard them closely, for anything might happen on the desert.

Tishmak, acting as the guide, was in the lead, followed by Dr. Kirshner and the youths’ fathers. Fekmah was in the middle of the line. The twenty dromedaries were spread out over perhaps a quarter of a mile and trotted at a speed that promised to cover many miles in a short time.

“I guess dromedaries don’t compare with camels when it comes to fast traveling,” remarked Joe, recalling something that Fekmah had said some time before. “The one-hump animal makes four times as much speed.”

In the early morning, as it was, the atmosphere was chilly. Bob and Joe welcomed the warmth of their tight-fitting coats.

“I never thought I’d need a wrap on the desert,” smiled Bob, fastening the collar around his neck.

“We’ll need more than coats at night, if what Dr. Kirshner said is true,” said Joe. “Gets cold as Greenland’s icy mountains.”

“Seems strange, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. But you remember it was the same way in Brazil. And that’s about as hot a country as there is anywhere.”

Soon the flat hill of Gara Krima, dominating the sandy plain, could be seen, its smooth surface tinted with many colors. Then it was left behind, and the explorers came to a region of loose sand. The dromedaries found it more difficult to plod through, and slackened their rapid pace somewhat. Although their feet were specially adapted for traveling on sand, they made much better time on hard surfaces.

“Look at the dust they’re making,” observed Bob, as a dense cloud of fine sand particles arose, making it necessary for the youths to ride a short distance to one side of the pack animals.

“They don’t believe in kicking it up, do they?” Joe said dryly.

After a while the sun came out in full splendor, sending its dazzling rays down on the scorched sand. Bob and Joe soon perspired freely, and were glad to remove their coats.

“Whew!” gasped Joe. “I’d give anything for a drink of water.”

“So would I,” his friend replied. “I’m going to ride on up and ask for one.”

“Remember me while you’re there.”

It was a good distance to the other end of the caravan, but the sure-footed dromedary trotted along briskly. Fekmah waved as Bob passed.

“How about a drink of water, Dad?” asked Bob, coming up to his father’s camel.

“Go to it,” was the answer. “We’ll come to a well before long, and refill the canteens.”

The third and fourth animals back were the water carriers, and Bob lost no time in filling his container. Then he drank freely of the refreshing liquid, and felt new life creep into him. Although warm, the water did wonders in quenching his thirst.

Again he filled the container and rode back to his friend, who was delighted.

“I was afraid they wouldn’t let you have it,” Joe said, wiping the perspiration from his brow.

“Wouldn’t have, only there’s a well not far away, and we’ll have a chance to refill the tanks.”

“Well, huh? Wonder if they’re this close together all along?”

“Let’s hope so.”

A little later the explorers passed a scattering of bones and skeletons that were partly covered with sand. They were dry from age, having probably been uncovered by a sandstorm.

“Camels’ bones, I suppose,” remarked Joe. “They’ve become overcome with thirst, most likely.”

“Who knows but that the skeletons of their riders are there some place, too,” said Bob, his face sober.

The sight was not a pleasant one, for it brought to mind the fact that it was altogether too possible that their little caravan might perish for want of water also. Some time elapsed before the boys resumed their cheerful mood.

As they traveled on, the ground became strewn with small red pebbles that shone brightly in the dazzling sunlight.

“I guess most of the rocks here are red,” remarked Bob, who had studied books on the Sahara.

“Burned that color by the sun, huh?”

“Seems reasonable, doesn’t it? Come to think of it, though, the ground in the Land of Thirst is black.”

“The Land of Thirst?”

“Yes. I heard Fekmah talking about it this morning. It’s a region where there are few or no wells, and you have to be very careful to have a good supply of water in the tanks before you plunge into it.”

“Looks like even then it would be dangerous. What if a storm or something would hold you back for a long time?”

“Have to take that chance,” Bob replied. “Wouldn’t doubt that quite a few caravans come to a tragic end there.”

“Will we go through it?” Joe asked.

“Fekmah said we might,” was the response.

Finally they came to the well that Mr. Holton had told about. There was a steady flow of water, which was comparatively cool.

“Drink all you want,” said Dr. Kirshner. “Tishmak says we won’t see another for a long time.”

The explorers drank and drank, until they could hold no more. Then they began the task of replenishing the tanks. But as little had been taken out, this was finished in a very few minutes.

“Now let’s get on,” urged Mr. Lewis. “We want to cover a good many more miles yet before we stop for the noon meal.”

Another hour brought them again to a region of hard soil, and the dromedaries increased their pace several miles per hour.

“Wish it would stay like this all the way,” said Joe, noting that ground was being covered much faster.

“Won’t though. But we’ll have stretches of it here and there.”

As the minutes passed, the glare from the sand became more intense, and the temperature went steadily up. The boys had dark-colored glasses but hesitated to put them on so soon.

“Wouldn’t a good cold drink come in fine now?” asked Bob, keeping his hands off his canteen with difficulty.

“Sure would. But we must fight the temptation to drink too often,” returned Joe. “Remember, we’re on the desert now, and not in the mountains, where there are plenty of springs.”

They rode rapidly on, the country remaining about the same. The red pebbles, however, grew more numerous, some of them glowing like rubies.

Joe remarked that they were gradually ascending, and Bob nodded.

“There’s a line of high dunes over there,” he said, pointing to the distant horizon. “Fekmah said when we reach those we’ll have climbed a good many hundred feet. We should get to them tomorrow.”

In a short time they passed beyond the stretch of hard soil and again plodded through loose sand. From all indications, it was heated to a high degree by the fierce sun. How the dromedaries stood it was a mystery to the boys.

“I wonder how Tishmak can find the way to the Ahaggar Mountains?” mused Joe, glancing up ahead at the guide. “He isn’t using a compass.”

“Does seem strange,” Bob agreed. “But I suppose he’s been over the route so much that he knows all the landmarks by heart, though it looks like a sandstorm or something else would change the surface of the land.”

Mention of the Ahaggars brought to mind the possibilities of finding the hidden riches. Bob and Joe wondered if the two thieves who had caused the explorers so much trouble would, with the aid of the stolen map, locate the treasure first. Perhaps they had already found the place and were gloating over the success of their wicked scheming. The youths said nothing, but the expression on their faces told what they would do to the men if given the opportunity.

“We’ll finally have a chance to square things,” thought Bob, gritting his teeth. “And oh, how those fellows will look when we’re through with them!”

A little later they came to a deep valley between the mounds of sand. In order for the camels to cross it they would find it necessary to climb the steep sides of the dune.

Mr. Lewis rode back to the boys.

“Have to be careful here,” he warned. “It’s rather steep near the top. Don’t let your mounts get out of control.”

The next instant he was on his way back to the front of the caravan.

The climb was hard and not a little dangerous, but the sure-footed dromedaries did not even threaten to slip.

They had barely reached the top when a cry of delight from Joe mingled with the scarcely less emotional exclamations of the others at sight of a small oasis not far away down the opposite slope. A number of tall date palms towered above the green grassy area, an indication that water was to be had for the taking.

“Hurrah!” cried Bob. “Water at last!”

“And if I’m not mistaken, we’ll find dates there, too,” put in Joe.

“You’re right,” affirmed Mr. Lewis, coming up from the side. “And this seems to be a good spot to stop for the noon meal. We’ll have it shady this afternoon when we take our midday rest.”

Nearer and nearer they were coming to the oasis, when suddenly, from behind a low dune of sand, appeared a small caravan of Arabs – possibly bandits.

CHAPTER XI

Fighting Heavy Odds

“KEEP your hands on your guns,” called Dr. Kirshner, as he gazed at the approaching party of Arabs.

There were ten of them, and each armed with a short range rifle, which, although inferior to the guns of the Americans, could do a great deal of damage. In addition to the mounts of the Arabs, there were six or seven pack camels that trailed.

As the caravan came nearer, Tishmak waved and shouted a friendly greeting, but he did not receive the same in return. Evidently the men had no friendly intentions.

Tishmak chattered a moment to Fekmah, who then turned to the Americans.

“They are probably nomad bandits,” Fekmah said excitedly. “Tishmak says we might have fight.”

“A fight!” cried Joe. “Why? Are they going to try to rob us?”

Fekmah nodded.

“Worse, perhaps,” he replied.

“Those fellows would think nothing of killing all of us,” said Mr. Lewis gravely. “So we want to be ready for anything that might happen.”

As the Arabs came nearer, their leader shouted something to Tishmak, whose jaw dropped in surprise and astonishment.

Tishmak turned to Fekmah and conversed rapidly. Then Fekmah translated to the Americans.

“They want two of our camels,” he said nervously.

Dr. Kirshner gasped in amazement.

“Want two of our camels?” he cried, his voice indicating a high state of anger.