THE TREASURE OF THE TIGRIS

CHAPTER I.

INSTRUCTIONS.

First of all, I must explain how it happened that I, Walter Henderson, whom, I have every reason to believe, my masters regarded as a very ordinary kind of boy, should have blossomed within a couple of years of leaving school into a person of some importance. I say this with all modesty, though my enemies will doubtless cast it in my teeth that no modest man would write a book about himself.

On events which prevented my getting a commission in the Army, after nearly having completed my course at Sandhurst, I do not propose to dwell. At the time I considered the whole affair to be an error of judgment, though my father ascribed it to lack of brains and too much cricket. Be all that as it may, the fact remains that before I was twenty, all my military ambition had been nipped in the bud, and I was incarcerated in the back premises of that imposing but dreary-looking old building, the British Museum. My uncle, Professor Ambrose Wentworth, had taken compassion on me, and had appointed me his private secretary, at a nominal salary. It was not at all the sort of life that I had mapped out for myself, as I had fully made up my mind to be a soldier, as most of my ancestors had been; and, as a matter of fact, had it not been for my mother's entreaties, I should have enlisted directly I left Sandhurst.

My uncle's particular line was Babylonian history, and probably no living man knew more about history tablets, cylinder seals, and such like things, than did he. As was, perhaps, only natural in a man whose whole existence was wrapped up in deciphering cuneiform inscriptions and hieroglyphics, he wrote an almost illegible hand, and it was my duty to make fair copies of all his letters and documents—a task which I found not only most uncongenial but also decidedly difficult. However, I did my best, and my uncle was always kind and considerate; but I could see that he was disappointed that he had been unable, at the end of a year, to make me enthusiastic in the matter of his hobby. At last came the day when I really thought that I could stand the life no longer. It was towards the end of November; we had had a fortnight of dreary fogs and drizzling rain, during which time I had worked by artificial light continuously, and as I took my seat at my desk I made up my mind that this day should be my last at the British Museum. Whether my uncle observed my dejection, or whether his archæological researches had produced in him the faculty of seeing through a brick wall, I cannot say, but when he entered the room in which I was at work, he came up to me and laid his hand gently on my shoulder.

"Walter, my boy," he said, "you don't like this sedentary life, I can see."

"It is the weather, uncle," said I. "I think it has got on my nerves."

"Well," said my uncle, "I have been meaning to speak to you for some time. You have stuck to your uninteresting work for months without a murmur, and you have proved to me that you have plenty of grit. I can now offer you a change. Mr Jenkins and I have been talking matters over, and we want someone to go to Babylon for us. We have come to the end of our arm-chair researches, and we can do nothing more without a man on the spot. If you like to undertake to study hard for six months, we will send you out on a voyage of discovery for us. You will have to make up your mind to real hard work, but I promise you that you will have a thoroughly interesting trip, and will see a good deal of the world. I will tell you plainly what you will have to do. In the first place, you must be able to read cuneiform inscriptions and translate them readily; secondly, you will have to learn a certain amount of Arabic, so as to be able to converse with the natives; and lastly, you will be required to go on an expedition to Babylon by yourself, and follow up the work that Layard and others commenced. You can think it over for twenty-four hours, and let me know whether you will undertake it, or whether we shall have to look out for someone else."

I need, perhaps, hardly say that, as I was only too keen to travel, I accepted the offer, and I began my six months' course of instruction forthwith. It was hard work, as my uncle had foretold, and nearly nine months passed before I was considered fit to start on my voyage of discovery. But, at the end of that time, my study had resulted in making quite an enthusiast of me, and I was most eager to get away to the land which had already given to the world so many historical treasures.

Then arrived the eventful evening when I was to receive my final instructions, and I was closeted with my uncle and Mr Jenkins for several hours, listening to the great scheme that I was intended to attempt to carry through. Up till then I had had no inkling that my trip was to be anything more than an ordinary digging undertaking, in the hope of finding something new; but when I entered my uncle's sanctum, I soon saw that he and his assistant had something important to discuss with me.

"Well, Walter," my uncle began, "the time has come at last; you are off to-morrow, and now we are going to tell you the great secret that is known only to Mr Jenkins and myself. If either of us were young enough to undertake the work, you may be sure that we should not have let you do it. But it wants a young and an energetic man to carry it through, and that is why we have gone to the trouble of training you. What we are going to disclose to you is absolutely in confidence; you must reveal it to no one; for, as you will see, on the keeping of the secret depends the whole success of your expedition."

My uncle now unlocked a safe, from which he took a tin despatch-box. Then, unfastening a bundle of papers, he began:—

"THE GIRDLE OF SOPHANA, THE GREAT QUEEN. That is what we want you to find. It exists, or it did a few years ago, beyond a doubt. If you can discover it and bring it to England, you will be a made man. If you fail, we shall not blame you. But I will tell you what we know about it. Mr Jenkins and I have devoted years to the matter, and, from what we have been able to gather from scraps of information, collected from history tablets and other sources, we know that Queen Sophana was possessed of a girdle of solid gold. Exactly what it was like we do not know, though several life-like snakes are said to have been embossed upon it, and it was supposed to have been possessed of certain magic properties. We have not much to go upon, but we will not keep anything from you, and you shall hear how we have put two and two together. In the first place, the ancient representations, on cylinder seals and such like things, of the queen, always show the girdle or belt round her waist; secondly, the old writers, in describing the queen, frequently refer to the magic belt; thirdly, on a fragment of a history tablet we have found clear evidence that, on the death of the queen, her favourite handmaiden dressed her mistress in pure white clothes and carefully fastened on the girdle before the corpse was laid in the coffin of baked clay.

"Then there are several other tablets on which mention is made of the girdle; and we have copies of all these things ready for you to take with you. But we should never have thought of trying to unearth this treasure, had it not been for information of a much more recent date that has come to us. Barely sixty years ago, some members of an Arab tribe ransacking the ruins of Babylon, found, bricked up in a solid wall many feet underground, a substantial tomb; inside the tomb were several coffins, and within one of these, encircling a shrivelled corpse, lay a belt of golden snakes—massive and of great weight. Now comes the difficulty; for, according to the story which the Arabs relate, the finders of the treasure, from the moment that they took possession of it, suffered every species of calamity. But of all this you must read in the manuscripts which we are handing over to you; it is too long a story to go into now, and I need only tell you the end. The golden girdle was eventually buried in the place where it had been found, by the sole survivor of a family of the Shammar tribe, in whose possession it had been for some years; and, in order that no one should notice that the ground had recently been turned over, the man obliterated all trace of his work by setting fire to the scrub jungle far and wide. Lastly, we have the climax; the Arab committed suicide on the bank of the Euphrates, by falling on the point of his broken spear.

"What you have to do is to endeavour to find out the spot where the man buried the girdle; dig it up, and bring it home. Mr Jenkins and I have written down our views as to how we think this can best be done; but you must consider what we have written as mere suggestions, and you must be guided by circumstances. We do not pretend to be anything more than students and theorists; and, unhappily, such men as Layard and Rawlinson, who could have helped us, have long since passed away. In reading through your papers, you will, of course, come across a deal of Eastern superstition; but I think that you are matter-of-fact enough to pay no attention to the supposed magical properties of the girdle, or any nonsense of that kind."

The remainder of the conversation it is unnecessary to give. I received lengthy instructions as to the voyage, as to secrecy, and as to more commonplace matters of business—how I was to draw money for my expenses, and so forth. No detail had been forgotten by my uncle and his assistant, who, I discovered, were staking their reputations on the success of my quest.

I was handed a despatch-box containing, as I was told, all papers bearing on the object of my journey; and then, like many another, I, Walter Henderson, buoyed up with hope and puffed up with pride, left the Museum under the impression that I was fairly on the road to fame.

CHAPTER II.

ACROSS MESOPOTAMIA.

About my voyage out I shall say little—for it was much like any ordinary voyage to the East—and of the passengers one only need be mentioned. That one joined the steamer at Marseilles, and became my cabin companion. He was a German, named Kellner, an amusing and pleasant individual, who talked English perfectly, and who, in spite of the fact that he seldom lined up for his morning bath, was tolerably clean. For some considerable time I could not make out what his business was, but at last I discovered that he was a "traveller in glass and china," and was going to Karachi. He interested me a good deal, as he appeared to be thoroughly well educated, and able to discuss almost any topic.

At Karachi I had to remain two days, waiting for the Persian Gulf steamer, and when I embarked again I found, to my astonishment and no little joy, that the only other passenger on board was my friend Kellner. He explained his unexpected reappearance by saying that he had had a telegram from his firm, telling him to go on up the Gulf, as there was a good opening for trade at Bushire and Baghdad. I was delighted at having his companionship, and during the next week our friendship increased considerably, so much so, that when we put in at Bushire, I persuaded him to come on with me to Baghdad, and first do his business there, taking Bushire on his way back. As was only natural, I had talked over my plans with him freely, though I had never divulged the secret of the Girdle, merely telling him that I was going to excavate at Babylon for the British Museum. He was politely interested in all I had to say, but he was not enthusiastic, giving it as his opinion that it would be much more practical to induce the people to take to European goods and forget all about their past history.

At last we got up to Bussorah, went on board the river steamer, and after four or five days on the Tigris, came alongside the wharf at Baghdad. I was duly accredited to the British consul-general, and was met by a kawas, who removed me, bag and baggage, to the Residency at once. Kellner went off with an Armenian gentleman, who, he told me, was agent for the firm for which he was travelling, and we parted with many expressions of regret that our long voyage was at an end.

The Consul-General had, I found, received a despatch from the Foreign Office about me, instructing him to assist me in every possible way, and he was kindness itself. I soon decided that there could be no possible harm in my telling him the object of my journey; in fact, I came to the conclusion that it was absolutely necessary. He said that I would have a most exciting hunt, and that he himself would have liked to have accompanied me, but unfortunately he could not leave Baghdad for some time. The Residency surgeon, who had only been in the country about eighteen months, wanted to visit Babylon, and it was soon settled that he should go with me—an arrangement that pleased me immensely, as George Edwards was a man of the world, with a delightful personality. It took a few days to get things in order: the firman from the Turkish Government examined and signed by the governor; servants and horses engaged, and an escort of mounted zaptiehs provided.

At length everything was ready, and, the evening before our departure, I overhauled all the papers in my despatch-box, in order to refresh my memory. I had studied them thoroughly on the voyage out, and knew their contents almost by heart. I had even gone to the length of making a précis of everything in a note-book. I thought it advisable, however, to have a final look through the papers, as I did not wish to encumber myself with the heavy despatch-box, which I had arranged to leave with the Consul-General. On opening the box I found, to my surprise, all the papers in a state of confusion—confusion which could not have arisen from the box having been turned upside down, because I always kept the papers, which were docketed and tied up in order, in their proper places, by filling up the box with two thick books. The books I now found nearly at the bottom of the box, and the bundles of papers were all untied and thoroughly mixed up. Someone had tampered with the box; there was not a doubt of it. I hastily checked off the papers with the inventory in my note-book, and, to my dismay, discovered that one was missing. I went over everything again—the missing document contained a carefully-drawn plan of the ruins of Babylon, with instructions as to the best method of attempting to locate the burial-place of the Girdle. It was, to my mind, the most important paper in the box; but its loss was not irreparable, as I had fortunately made copious notes from it, and possessed a duplicate plan. Nevertheless, it was most annoying to find that someone had been turning over my papers, and I mentioned the matter to my host at dinner that night.

"What sort of lock have you got on the box?" he asked.

"A Brahma," I replied, "and the key is on my watch-chain."

"Have you ever left your watch lying about?"

"Never; I have always been most particular about it."

Then I remembered that the day I went on shore at Muskat, I had left my watch in my cabin. I remembered the fact, because when I visited Jelali Fort, the governor showed me his watch, and I put my hand in my pocket to take out mine, wishing to explain the advantages of a repeater, but discovered that I had left it behind.

"Haven't you opened the box since then?" inquired the Consul-General.

"No, I don't think I have looked at it since I left Karachi."

"Well, probably the inquisitive steward went through your belongings while you were on shore at Muskat, in hopes of finding a stray bank-note, and I expect in his hurry he omitted to put all the papers back."

So we forgot all about the incident, and the following morning Edwards and I, with our cavalcade of pack-horses, and our soldierly-looking escort, left the Residency, and riding down the dirty, narrow lane to the bazaar, crossed the quaint old bridge of boats and got away into the desert beyond. As we looked back we saw the Consul-General in a kufa in mid-stream waving a last farewell to us, and then we put our little Arab horses into a canter, and soon settled down for the ride to the khan (or caravanserai) of Mahmoudieh. It was late when we reached the solid gate of the khan, and it was closed for the night, but we managed to find accommodation in the little coffee shanty just outside.

A couple of Bedouin chiefs were in possession of the only room, so the verandah was handed over to us, and, the night being warm, it was far pleasanter than being inside, though the corporal of our escort did not at all like the arrangement, and tried to persuade us that it was most unsafe to sleep as it were in the open, in a country which was known to be swarming with robbers and cutthroats. Being Englishmen, we laughed at the corporal's fears, and after supper and a smoke we turned in on the frail wicker-work, crate-like beds that had been provided for us, taking the precaution, however, to have our revolvers handy, and to put everything of value either under the beds or under our bodies. How long we had slept I cannot say; I had been dreaming hard, and I had dreamt that I had found the Golden Girdle—I held it in my hand and gazed at it in wonder—I found the clasp—with great difficulty I unfastened it—I put it round my waist—I felt for the clasp to fasten it—nothing would induce it to close. I pulled with all my might—the Girdle was too small for my waist. I seized both ends in my hands, held my breath, and pulled again. My waist was growing smaller and smaller—my body seemed to be breaking in half. I gave a wild yell, and the clasp snapped with a report like that of a pistol shot. And it was indeed a pistol shot.

As I awoke with a start, I found that the whole place was in a wild state of commotion; the zaptiehs were all around us with lanterns, and Edwards was standing by the side of his bed, with revolver in hand.

"What on earth is the matter?" I asked.

"Had a shot at a blackguard trying to loot our kit, but failed to score, I am afraid," was the reply.

Then Edwards told us all about it; how he had been aroused by my restlessness, how he saw, in the moonlight, two men kneeling close to my bed, and how he quietly took his revolver from under his pillow, and sprang up, only, however, in time to get a flying shot at the men as they made off. Their horses were just outside the verandah, and the thieves were on them and away before he could get another shot in. Our troopers wanted to go in pursuit, but it would have been perfectly useless their going out into the desert, as they had not the remotest idea which road to follow; so we contented ourselves with the examination of our belongings, to see what we had lost. My heart absolutely stopped beating when I discovered that my money-belt had gone from my waist. It was a chamois-leather belt that I had had specially made in England, with neat little pockets all round it, in which I carried the whole of my money—about £50 in sovereigns, and a certain number of silver kerans and rupees.

We were not long in finding out who the thieves were, as the owner of the house came running out to tell us that the two Bedouin chiefs had disappeared without paying for their supper or lodgings. Then I remembered that one of them had passed through the verandah to the inner room while I was fastening the belt over my sleeping-suit, and he must have noticed what I was doing, and guessed that the belt was worth having. My dream all came back to me, and of course my long struggle with the Golden Girdle was probably caused by the Bedouins taking off my belt; but I cannot imagine how they got it off without awakening me. It was gone; there was no doubt about that; and, turning to the coffee-house man, I demanded what he knew of his two runaway guests.

"Lord!" he replied, "I never set eyes on them before this night. They arrived after the gates of the khan were shut, and, saying that they had ridden from the Euphrates, they begged a night's lodging before going on to Baghdad. What manner of men they were I knew not. I swear it."

I believed him, for he was a Jew, and therefore not likely to give board and lodging to two strangers unless he thought that they were respectable and likely to pay their bill. Still, I was not quite certain that the old gentleman was not a confederate of the Bedouins, so I called the corporal and told him that I thought he had better take the owner of the place into Baghdad as a prisoner, and report what had happened. The consternation of the Jew when he heard the order is indescribable. He grovelled on the ground at my feet; flung the dust over his head, and swore to me that he was innocent of participating in any plot. To be sent in to the Turkish governor of Baghdad would mean his ruin. He would not be heard. He was a Jew, and there was no justice for Jews. He begged and implored me to have mercy and to believe his word. As a matter of fact, I had not the slightest intention of losing the services of our escort by sending them back to Baghdad, and I was quite confident that the Jew knew nothing of the robbery. The loss of the money, however, was rather a serious thing, though, fortunately, Edwards was carrying enough to supply our probable wants for some time; and before making a start I sent a letter to the Consul-General, telling him what had occurred, and asking him to send me some more money to Babylon. As can be imagined, we were not too well pleased with the result of our first night in Mesopotamia, and for the next night or two we took the precaution to keep a sentry on duty while we slept.

Getting away as early as possible in the morning, we rode hard all day, and, after passing Khan Haswa and Khan Mahawill, at sunset we crossed the remains of the ancient Parthian earthworks, and entered the ruins of the Great City, taking up our quarters at dusk on a roof-top of the little modern village of Babil, lying close by the Euphrates. Every house in the village was built of bricks dug out of the ruins of famous Babylon; on every brick was the superscription of Nebuchadnezzar; and it was with almost sacrilegious feelings that we lay down to rest among such romantic and old-world surroundings.

CHAPTER III.

INTO THE DESERT.

Riding over the ruins on the following day, I realised for the first time the immense task that I had undertaken. In all directions there stretched miles and miles of barren land, with here and there low mounds, ditches, and heaps of rubbish, overgrown with scrub and coarse grass. Actual ruins, such as walls and the remains of buildings above ground, there were none, though an occasional long deep trench, dug by modern excavators, disclosed the presence of a wall at a considerable depth below the surface. For centuries the place had been ransacked for bricks to build the towns and villages in the neighbourhood, and even now I found natives with donkeys loading up the panniers with masses of broken brickwork.

With the scanty information that I possessed, to attempt to commence digging for the Golden Girdle was, of course, hopeless—far more hopeless than looking for a needle in fifty bundles of hay. I, however, made a thorough exploration of the ruins, and corrected and added to my maps, deciding that the next step to be taken was to get away among the Bedouin tribes, and to try to discover some sort of clue as to the burial-place of the Girdle. Why I thought of the Bedouins as likely to be of assistance was this; I had among my papers a full-sized drawing of an Arab horse-shoe, and my uncle had shown me the actual shoe, the peculiar shape of which at the time interested me a good deal, though I now found that similar ones were worn by all the Arab horses. It was a thin disc of metal with a hole in the centre, but it differed from most shoes in that it had eight nail-holes instead of the usual six. With the drawing was the translation of a document, and a note to the effect that the horse-shoe and its description were obtained from the Munshi Abdul Aziz of Kerbela, and brought to England in 1899 by a certain Captain Johnson, who was subsequently killed in South Africa. The document itself ran as follows:-

"In the name of God, the Merciful and Compassionate, and, Said Mohammed, Agent of the High God, and of the Companions of Mohammed. Praised be the Lord, the Omnipotent Creator.

"This is the Na'l Talisman of the Muntafik, which at one time adorned the hoof of the beautiful mare Shahzadi, by a Kuhailan Haifi sire, out of the dam Labadah. The famous mare, known to all the tribes, was captured by Feyzul, sheik of the Jelas Aeniza, from the Sheik Jedaan-ibn-Mirshid, who was killed in battle, when a portion of the Salama tribe of the Shammar was utterly defeated on the 17th of the month Saphar, A.H. 1281. Of the ill-omened Salama there escaped but one man, who was riding a brown horse, with four white feet and a white mark on the forehead, said by some to have been of the true breed of Saklawi, by others of Ubaiyan. The man bore away the serpent belt of pure gold, coveted by the desert tribes."

On the back of the original paper was scribbled in pencil:-

"The shoe and its history were given to me by my old friend, Munshi Abdul Aziz, on his deathbed, in return for some slight services which I had rendered him in connection with the annual payment of pilgrim money. He told me that it had been carried, for many years, as a talisman, on the neck of the mare ridden by a former sheik of the Muntafik. How it came into his possession he preferred not to disclose; but he said that it was well known that the mare Shahzadi was shod on the off hind foot with an eight nailed shoe (the near hind, of course, having no shoe). H. J., 8.4.98."

I had already regarded this document as of very great importance, and I now decided that my first object should be to discover Feyzul, and learn what he had to say about the golden belt. It was true that Feyzul might not be alive, and his tribe, in its turn, might have been wiped off the face of the earth; but still it was the only clue, and it seemed to me to be worth while following up. So we left Babil and went off to the town of Hillah, where we imagined we might be able to get the desired information from the Turkish police officer, whose duty it was to keep an eye on the Bedouin tribes of the neighbourhood. The officer was most polite, and, after inspecting my passport and firman, sent for his sergeant, and asked him what was the latest information that he had of the Jelas sheik.

The sergeant, with much pomp and ceremony, produced a note-book from his pocket, and rapidly turning over the leaves, at length came to the page he wanted, when he read out deliberately and in a low voice:—

"Faris-ibn-Feyzul, tribe of Jelas, otherwise Ruwalla, of the Aeniza; 742 men; 428 women; many children; valuable mares and stallions; also camels and sheep. Blood feud with the Salama of the Shammar; constantly fighting. The tribe was driven from the Ndjef marshes by the Turkish troops two months ago, and was reported to have moved about four days south."

"Is that all?"

"It is all that I know, captain, for, as you are aware, I have been out in the northern district for the past month."

"What age do you suppose this Faris to be?" I asked.

"Oh, anything over fifty-five, might be seventy, but rides and fights like a man of thirty."

Then the officer suddenly appeared to become inquisitive, and asked me why I was so anxious to find this particular Arab chief, who had not the best of reputations. For the moment I was rather nonplussed, but I satisfied him by saying that I had been told that he and his tribe knew the ruins of Babylon better than most people, and that they would be sure to know what parts had been explored by previous excavators. In the end the sergeant was told to try and find out where the chief had his headquarters, and during the next few days I and my party were entertained by the police officer, who showed us all the sights of the neighborhood—including the so-called Tower of Babel, or Birs Nimroud.

Before the end of the week Faris-ibn-Feyzul had been discovered, and the sergeant proudly related how one of his men had seen him in the bazaar at Kerbela, and had tracked him for three days and nights out into the desert, and had found his tribe encamped barely two days' ride from Hillah.

So far so good. I knew that the Jelas tribe still existed, and though Sheik Feyzul was dead, his son Faris reigned in his stead. The next point was how to open up communications with him.

"It would be perfectly useless my sending for him," said the Turkish officer, "for he would not come. They are most independent devils, all these Bedouins, and you cannot even bribe them. You might send a dozen messages to this Faris, and tell him that you would pay him a thousand kerans a day for his services, but that would not be an inducement to him. He would imagine that we had designs on him."

"I must get hold of him somehow," I said; "what do you think I had better do?"

"There is only one way that I can see," was the reply. "Leave your zaptiehs here, and ride off with your friend to Faris's camp without an escort. I will give you a guide to show you the way, but he must leave you as soon as you are within sight of the camp. It will be somewhat risky, as, of course, the Jelas people may take you for Turks and make short work of you, but if you pretend to be simple English travellers having lost the way, I daresay it will be all right. I shall, however, have to get you to give me a paper saying that you left Hillah against my wish, in case you come to grief, as otherwise I might get into trouble."

Edwards and I agreed that we had better make the plunge into the desert, and leaving our belongings in charge of the zaptiehs, with strict injunction that if nothing was heard of us within a week, they were to follow us up, we gave the Turk his clearance certificate, and rode off with our guide at daybreak next morning.

After a somewhat uninteresting ride of a long day, with always in front of us a mirage rising out of the sandy desert, and enticing us to put spurs to our horses and gallop to the shade of the palm-groves, which appeared to grow on the edge of a lake surrounding a great city and its thousand minarets; after halting for the night in a real date garden, we arrived late in the afternoon of the second day on a low ridge from which the country around was visible for many miles. Here the guide stopped, telling us that we would now have to proceed alone. He then pointed out the line which we were to take—roughly south-west—showing us, in the far distance, a tiny speck, which he pronounced to be the encampment of the Jelas sheik. Looking through our field-glasses, we could just discern the resemblance to an encampment, but the prospect of reaching it before dark seemed small. The guide, however, assured us that it was not as far off as we imagined; the country was deceptive; and we should probably reach our destination before sundown. With hearts none too light, we parted from the guide, and started in a bee-line for our goal.

Before going any great distance, we got hung up by a morass, which had to be circumvented; then the horses showed signs of being fatigued, and we were obliged to get off and lead them.

"A jolly wild goose chase this seems to be," said Edwards, somewhat sulkily.

"Not very cheerful, is it?" I replied.

Neither of us spoke again for about half an hour. The sun was gradually nearing the horizon. It would be pitch dark in less than an hour. Edwards stopped.

"What are we going to do?" he asked. "We can't possibly reach the beastly place before dark, and we are not likely to find it when we can't see where we are going. I vote we chuck it, have some food, and bivouac here till the morning."

"Don't you believe it," said I, "what sort of a person do you take me for? Do you suppose I have been looking at this compass of mine ever since we left the guide simply to amuse myself? I have got the bearing of old Faris's centre wigwam to a nicety. The compass is a luminous one. Look at it. Do you see the luminous paint? Well, as soon as it gets properly dark and the stars are nice and bright, I'll take you along quite gaily."

Edwards was interested. He had never seen a luminous compass before, and confessed that he had no idea that anyone could wander about in a desert at night and discover where he was going. Now, as a matter of fact, I was not at all confident of my ability to use a compass at night; for, since leaving Sandhurst, I had never troubled about these matters. Still, I could see that my companion did not much like the look of the situation, so I thought it best to reassure him.

The compass worked far better than I expected—indeed so accurately as to almost result in our coming to an untimely end. The darkness that had settled in very shortly after sunset was of the blackest, the stars standing out with remarkable brilliancy. Whether it was that my nerves were strained to the utmost, or that it was the first night that I had spent in the absolute solitude of the vast desert, I cannot say, but I can never remember in all my subsequent travels any night that approached this one for inky blackness. On we trudged over the hard, baked sand, still warm to the feet, and making the air warm as high as one's chest; above that, a cool invigorating breeze blew about our heads. Under other circumstances, we should have delighted in the night march; as it was, we were both too jumpy to appreciate it.

Suddenly, at a little distance to our right, a dog barked, and almost instantaneously half a dozen shots were fired. Fortunately, they were evidently fired haphazard, for none of them came in our direction, but our reception was far too warm to be pleasant, so I shouted in the best Arabic that I could command:—

"Salaam Aleikum! We are two English travellers who have lost our way. We seek hospitality for the night, and to be put on our road in the morning."

There was no reply, though we could hear voices quite close, and could now distinguish the form of the tents of the encampment. My compass had landed us within a hundred yards of the right spot, but I had no thought for the moment of congratulating myself on its accuracy, or on my skill in handling it. It was a question whether we should have a volley fired into us, or whether our account of ourselves would be accepted. All doubt, however, was soon swept away, when a stentorian voice came out of the darkness:—

"If you are, as you say, Ingleezee who have lost your way, let one man advance and the other remain a while behind."

I immediately advanced, while Edwards stood his ground. At the doorway of a large tent I was received by a handsome young Arab, around whom clustered a number of wild-looking men and women. Oil wick lamps were raised to my face, and after a few searching questions, the men appeared to be satisfied, and told me that my companion could come in. As soon as Edwards appeared, the young Arab, who was evidently the chief of the party, looked intently into his face, then, flinging himself on the ground at his feet, became almost convulsed with emotion.

"It is the great Hakim (doctor)," he exclaimed, "Alhamdu l'Illah—Praise be to Allah—I have met him again. The blessed Hakim who saved my life when I was left for dead by the accursed Shammar. Oh, God is great to let me see him again, and befriend him in the desert."

We were soon surrounded by as many of the tribe as were able to crowd into the tent, and the doorway was blocked with the remainder. Edwards was the centre of attraction, and his Arab friend regaled his fellow-tribesmen with countless personal experiences of the Hakim's skill. But, in the excitement, our wants were not forgotten; our horses were taken away and cared for; women brought in vessels of sour leben, and dishes of meat and unleavened bread, of which we ate with an appetite whetted by a hard day's march and by the keen, crisp air of the desert night. Neither was this all, for the floor of the tent was rapidly piled up with carpets and rugs, conveyed by numerous eager hands, and after taking the most affectionate farewell for the night, Sedjur, our host prepared to leave us to ourselves.

"But, Sedjur," said Edwards, holding the young chief's hand, "you have not told me why you are here, six days' journey to the west of Baghdad; when in the hospital, you always said you came from the north, from near Mosul."

"True, O Hakim," was the reply, "but we of the desert have no fixed home. We wander hither and thither. Yet I confess that I lied to you when I said that I came from the north. To have disclosed my identity would have imperilled the safety of my tribe for the son of Faris would have been a rare prize for the Turki Spahis (a curse on them!), and they would have tortured me until they had discovered the movements of my father and his people."

"Are you, then, Faris's son?" inquired Edwards.

"Even so."

"Where then is the sheik, your father?"

"He left, two days since, with ten picked men, to effect the capture of the horses of some Shammar robbers who were reported to be at Babil. He will return before sundown to-morrow, and he will then offer you the full hospitality of the tribe."

"Well, peace be with you, Sedjur, at any rate for this night, and plenty of hard fighting before long. That is the greatest joy I can wish you, I know."

Sedjur's face brightened, and his keen eyes glistened as he turned and left us. When we were alone, I asked my companion to explain how, in the middle of the night and in the middle of the desert, he had suddenly found fame. It was not a long story, because George Edwards was the sort of person who made a story about himself as short as possible. The Consul-General, it appeared, was riding out, with a small escort, near Zobeidé's Tomb, one evening about a year before, and came across a man lying in an exhausted condition under a bush. The man was unable to give an account of himself, but he was evidently in desperate straits, with several sword cuts on his body and one or two ugly spear gashes. The Englishman made his escort carry the wretched Arab into Baghdad and hand him over to the Residency surgeon, and, as Edwards concluded, "I looked after him, tinkered up his wounds, and was just going to discharge him from hospital, when he discharged himself—made a bolt of it one fine night."

"Edwards," I said, when he had finished, "you are a marvel. There never was such a stroke of luck. If all accounts of these people be true, you have secured the everlasting friendship of Faris and all his tribe. We are made men—that is to say if Faris really knows anything of the Golden Girdle."

Edwards's reply was a long, loud snore, and it was not many minutes before I myself sank into that blissful state of oblivion which is begotten of sheer exhaustion.

CHAPTER IV.

GUESTS OF THE AENIZA.

How long we should have slept if left undisturbed I cannot imagine. The sun must have been up an hour or more before we were suddenly awakened by shouting in the camp almost amounting to an uproar. On jumping up and looking out, we found that the small black tents were being hastily struck, and the whole place was in confusion. We saw, at a little distance, Sedjur talking excitedly to a couple of dozen horsemen armed to the teeth. Presently he moved towards our tent, the mounted men following him. As they drew near we stepped outside to receive them, and were greeted by a shout from Sedjur, who was walking by the side of the horse ridden by a great gaunt Arab. That this was the sheik himself we instantly realised—so much alike were father and son—and any doubt that we had was soon dispelled by the introduction that followed.

"THAT THIS WAS THE SHEIK HIMSELF WE INSTANTLY REALISED"

The sheik welcomed us cordially, and thanked Edwards for all the kindness that he had shown to his son in Baghdad. Unfortunately, he said, he could not now ask us to partake of his hospitality, as it was absolutely necessary that he and his people should get away at once, to avoid capture at the hands of the Turkish authorities. Sedjur then related to us what had occurred. His father had, the night before, had a brush with a strong party of Shammar, some of whom had been left either dead or wounded on the field, and the fight only ended when it did because of the sudden appearance of a Turkish patrol.

"We must get away immediately," concluded Sedjur, "but my father and I hope that some day, when things are quieter, we shall be able to show you and your friend true desert hospitality. You will easily find your way back to Hillah, and so to Baghdad, by keeping straight for the high mound yonder, from which you will see the river and the roof-tops of Hillah at no great distance."

"But," replied I, not at all wishing to lose Faris just as we had found him, "my friend the Hakim does not desire to return until he has seen more of the desert. Besides, we might ourselves be captured by the Turkish soldiers, and be forced to betray your whereabouts."

"That would be difficult," laughed Sedjur, "for, look, our women and children are already out of sight, and safe; and, ere the sun has crept up another spear-head in the heavens, our horses will have carried us out of harm's way."

I looked round. The camp had vanished, the tent in which we had slept included. Our horses, with their saddles on, stood hobbled close by. The sheik, standing by his horse, was shading his eyes with one hand, and scanning the horizon.

Suddenly there arose a cry of "Tourki," and with one accord the sheik and his men swung into the saddle, and commenced to move off. Sedjur quickly mounted his mare, and calling to us that he regretted having to leave us thus discourteously, soon caught up the rest of the party, now settling down to a fast canter.

"Well," exclaimed Edwards, turning to me, "they are in a desperate hurry to clear out. I cannot even see the soldiers, can you?"

I looked for some time, and at last, when my eyes had become accustomed to the glare, I thought I could detect some small black objects, like flies, in the far, far distance.

"I think I have spotted them," I answered. "There, miles away to the north-east. Look along my finger."

"Oh, I see them," said Edwards.

"Well," said I, "I suppose we had better wait here till they come up, tell them that it is useless for them to try and catch the wily Arabs, and ride back with them to Hillah, or wherever they come from."

"Not a bit of it," said Edwards excitedly. "We must not meet them. I know the gentlemen; and if they find us here and their quarry gone, they are quite capable of shooting us off-hand as conspirators, and quietly putting us into a hole in the sand. Come on; there's plenty of time."

"Where to?" I asked, as we ran to our horses and mounted.

"After our Arab friends," was the reply. "They are not going any pace as yet."

So we dug our spurs into the flanks of our little beasts, and made them gallop over the baked desert. But gallop as we would, we did not appear to be gaining on our friends, and it seemed to us, on glancing back, that the Turkish troopers were overhauling us. Then, as we looked ahead, we saw the Arab horsemen suddenly disappear.

"Where on earth have they gone?" asked Edwards, turning to me.

"Heaven only knows," I replied, "unless they have got into a watercourse. We shall probably see them come out again in a minute."

We kept our eyes fixed ahead of us as we rode on, but no sign did we see of the reappearance of the party, and before long we discovered the cause. The track brought us to a deep dry watercourse, running almost at right angles to the route that we were following, and there, in the loose sand which formed the bed, we could see the footprints of the horses. We drew rein, and looked at each other, for the horsemen seemed to have gone both ways—up the watercourse and down it.

"Which way?" I asked Edwards.

"Haven't a ghost of an idea," said he.

"Well, it cannot matter very much," said I; "whichever way we go, we shall find some of them. We must trust to luck to take our Turkish pursuers the other way."

So we rode westward in the trough of the nullah, which in places was sunk almost twenty feet below the surrounding country, and which turned and twisted at every fifty yards. For half an hour or more we pressed on, ever looking behind, to see if we were being pursued, until at last we reached a point where a smaller nullah joined the main one, and here again the horsemen had divided, as many going one way as the other.

"This is worse than a paper-chase," said Edwards, drily. "Suppose we give it up, wait for the Turks, and hail them as our friends and deliverers."

As we stood at the junction of the watercourses, debating which one to follow, we suddenly became aware of the presence of a horseman, standing motionless at the bend of the smaller nullah. He beckoned to us, and, on riding up, we found, to our joy, that it was Sedjur himself.

"You were fortunate, Hakim," said he smiling, "in taking the right way. We could not wait for you, for fear of the Turkis. We are all safe enough now, for they never follow the windings of the watercourse, knowing that at any turn they might be ambuscaded. Come along to our tents, and we will make you truly welcome."

The mention of tents was a great relief to both of us, for I at any rate had had visions of travelling day and night for ever so long, and enduring endless privations. Still, the encampment was not as near as I at first imagined, for, although Sedjur described it, with a wave of his hand, as "yonder," it proved to be distant several hours' ride. For a mile or more we followed the bed of the nullah, until it grew too narrow to ride in, when our guide suddenly turned his horse's head up the steep bank. Thence we crossed a wide strip of desolate desert leading gradually up to a sandy ridge, from the summit of which Sedjur pointed out, several miles away, a green patch of vegetation, around which there appeared to be a goodly collection of tents.

"What are all these tents?" I inquired of Sedjur, as we drew near the encampment.

"This is our large camp," he replied, "with all our people and flocks. Where you spent last night was only a ghazu camp, from which my father was making a foray."

We were duly impressed by what we saw before us, and we began to understand that the sheik was a man of some importance. A considerable number of horses, camels, and sheep were grazing on the outskirts of the encampment, and quite two hundred tents lay scattered among the tamarisk and other bushes. On the extreme flank was pitched the somewhat imposing-looking tent of the sheik—large enough, as we afterwards found, to accommodate not only himself and his family, but also two of his mares. In front of the tent, fixed upright in the ground, was his long, gleaming spear, adorned with tufts of black ostrich plumes. As we approached, men came to take our horses, and we were ushered into the audience-room of Faris's tent, where we were received with much ceremony, being reintroduced by Sedjur, as if the sheik had never met us before. This procedure puzzled me at first, but later on I discovered that it was a matter of Bedouin etiquette, as at our previous meeting the sheik had had nothing to offer us. Now we were made welcome to all he possessed, and a special tent was handed over to us.

The conversation was most formal; spiced coffee was handed round, and long pipes were brought in. Then, after a short while, Sedjur relieved our minds by suggesting that we might like to go to our tent and rest, after our long ride. We jumped at the idea, and being warned that we were expected to have supper with the sheik a little before sundown, we sought the seclusion of the goat's-hair dwelling that had been reserved for us.

"Thank goodness," said Edwards, sitting on his saddle-bags, which had been brought into the tent, "that they have given us a place to ourselves. Now let us hold a mass meeting of two, and discuss the whole situation."

"What situation?" I asked.

"Why, yours and mine," said he.

"Right you are," said I. "So far I think we have done pretty well. We have discovered old Faris, and have become his honoured guests. We have only got to persuade him to tell us about the Golden Girdle, and then we shall be as right as rain."

"All very nice," said Edwards. "But suppose it does not come off, what is going to happen? We are miles and miles from anywhere."

"Oh, we will get along. Don't you fret," I replied. "Besides, we are seeing desert life, living with real Bedouins, and all that sort of thing. Do be a bit romantic. But, to be serious, I will take on our host to-night, if we can make him at all communicative; and if we fail to get anything out of him, we will take an affectionate farewell in the morning, and ride back to Hillah. I daresay we are not more than fifty miles away."

"How shall you start the subject?" asked my companion.

"That is the difficulty," said I. "I expect the best way will be to mention Shahzadi and her shoe, and see how the old man takes it."

So we continued to talk and puff at our pipes, until at last Sedjur came and told us that supper was ready. We found that one or two of the headmen of the tribe had been invited to meet us, and after going through the usual ceremonial introductions, we settled down to our meal, Edwards being placed on the right hand of the sheik, I on the left, and Sedjur on the other side of Edwards. It was our first Bedouin feast, and the novelty of everything interested us considerably. A huge copper bowl was brought in and placed in front of us, its steaming contents consisting of a kind of porridge in which lumps of meat and vegetables, some hard-boiled eggs, and dates were concealed. Into this each member of the party plunged his hand, and after the manner of dipping in a bran-pie, brought out a prize in the shape of something to eat. Hunger and the desire to appear au fait in the customs of the desert enabled Edwards and myself to do fair justice to the meal, even without spoons, knives, or forks. Little conversation was indulged in while the eating was in progress, but at length the dish, replenished again and again, had satisfied everyone, and at a signal from Faris we rose, washed our hands, and went and sat outside, to smoke our pipes and chat in the cool evening air.

While at supper I had made a study of our host, and although apparently a reserved and silent man, his quiet dignity and courteous manner made a great impression on me. In appearance he was tall—far above the average Arab height, spare in form, but with broad, square shoulders, which made his flowing robes hang loosely from his body. He was a fair man, and his brown beard as yet showed few white hairs, though his handsome face was weather-beaten, and bore more than one tell-tale scar. His eyes were remarkable, and their actual colour impossible to describe; at times they were the eyes of an eagle—almost golden red, wide open and piercing; then, while he was speaking, they would suddenly change to the soft liquid eyes of a deer, full of tenderness and compassion. As I learned later, the sheik's whole character was discoverable from a study of his eyes.

Puffing at my pipe, I began to think that the time had come when I ought to give our host some idea of our future movements, for I knew that he himself would consider that he would be outraging all the laws of hospitality if he even displayed any curiosity as to our wanderings in the desert. How I was to turn the conversation round to the Golden Girdle I could not see, but I made a beginning by discussing the day's ride, and the relative merits of our horses and the sheik's horses, their paces and staying powers. To my delight I found that the great man gradually unbent, and in a few minutes became voluble. Thinking that I was deeply interested in the subject, he insisted on taking me into his tent to see his two favourite mares, one of whom he fondled, and addressed in the most loving terms.

"She is your favourite, sheik," I said.

"Yes," he replied, "even so. She has carried me in many a bloody fight with the accursed Shammar, and has borne many good colts. Moreover, her grand-dam was my father's much-prized mare, a true Kuhailan, so he always affirmed. He captured her from the Shammar—a fact which I cast in their teeth when I prevail over them by reason of the handiness and swiftness of the mare. She is indeed a bird without wings."

I now had my opening, for of course I remembered what was written in the document wherein mention had been made of the Golden Girdle.

"I have heard of the Kuhailan mare," I remarked quietly.

"Of what mare?" inquired Faris, looking at me intently.

"Shahzadi," I replied, "the daughter of a Kuhailan Haifi, out of the dam Labadah. Was it not so?"

"That indeed was what my father always told me, and the Shammar themselves told him how the mare was bred. How do you, an Ingleezee, know of such matters as these? It may be that you have learned them from the Shammar."

"Not so, Sheik of Sheiks," I replied. "What I know of the mare I have read in my own country."

"Wonder of wonders!" exclaimed Faris. "They speak truly when they say that you Englishmen know everything. Tell me more of what you know."

"I will tell you all I know," I said, "and if you will allow me to go to my tent, I will fetch you a translation of what I believe to be a true document relating to the famous mare, which your father captured from the Shammar."

"You astonish me beyond measure," said the sheik; "be pleased to go and bring the paper."

At that moment the thud of horses' hoofs broke the stillness of the night air, and, thinking that it meant a night attack, I turned to the sheik, who stepped out in front of his tent, and shouted a few words in a deep voice. An answer came back out of the darkness, and then Faris explained to me that the horsemen were those of his party whose duty it had been to lay a false scent for the Turkish police to follow, and who had ridden into camp by a circuitous route.

"For years," said he, "we have done the same thing. On reaching the nullah, some of us go one way and some another. The Turkis fear to follow either party, knowing that if once they enter the nullah, they are liable not only to be ambuscaded by one party but to be taken in rear by the other party. But they are simple folk these town-bred Turkis, and in driving us as far as the nullah, they consider that they have done their duty. So they return to their coffee-houses to drink their coffee and tell their companions how they encountered the Bedouins, and defeated them. Yet, to-morrow, if we wished, we could ride in and pillage half the villages on the outskirts of Hillah. However, the ways of these Turki dogs are of no interest to either you or me, for I know, from my many friends in Baghdad, what you Englishmen think of them. Let us talk again of our horses, and let me hear what you know of Kushki's ancestors."

I went off to my tent, and returned with my note-book, when the sheik took me into his private apartment, and motioned me to a seat on a pile of soft cushions. I showed him the sketch of Shahzadi's shoe, and he at once commented on the eight nail holes. Then I turned to my copy of the document, which, re-translating into Arabic, I read out to my host. He was deeply moved, and drank in every word that I uttered, nodding his head as I concluded each sentence, and vouchsafing that what I said was true. When I came to the last line I hesitated for a second—from excitement, I suppose—but, recovering, I translated leisurely, "The man bore away the serpent belt of pure gold coveted by the desert tribes."

"Quite true," said the sheik. "Everything that you have read is true. But now tell me, was it indeed an accident that brought you and your friend the Hakim to our tents?"

The question came so suddenly, that I confess it quite staggered me. But I felt that the man with whom I was dealing was upright and honest, and I decided that I would meet him on his own ground, and risk the consequences. I stood up and met his gaze.

"Faris-ibn-Feyzul, Sheik of the Jelas Aeniza," I said, "I am an Englishman, and, I trust, a man of honour. Believe me, that in accepting your hospitality, I had no intention of deceiving you. I waited only for an opportunity to speak to you, and that opportunity has now come. It was no accident that brought us to your tents."

I then explained fully the nature of my mission, and how I hoped to be able to obtain from him some information about the Golden Girdle. He listened attentively, and without showing any sign of displeasure. At last he took my hand in his, and spoke solemnly and quietly.

"Friend and honoured guest," he said, "you have spoken to me straightforwardly, and straightforwardly shall I always deal with you. Stay with us as long as you will, and you shall be welcome, but take my advice, and abandon all idea of possessing that accursed belt of gold. Did you but know the havoc that it wrought among the tribes ere it disappeared, you would let it lie for ever in its resting-place. If you would hear more of it, then to-morrow will I tell you what I know, and willingly. To-night we have already talked late."

"What a time you have been," grunted Edwards, as I entered the tent after saying good-night to the sheik. "You have lost all your beauty sleep. I have been in bed for hours."

"Business, my boy," I replied. "I have been having a most interesting talk with Faris."

Edwards sat up wide awake, while I related, as shortly as possible, what our host had told me.

"Do you think I did right," I asked, when I had finished, "in making a clean breast of everything?"

"You could not well have done anything else," he replied. "Both the father and the son are thorough gentlemen. Besides, one cannot humbug these Bedouins; they would see through you at once. I wonder if they really know where your golden treasure is buried. I did not say a word about it to Sedjur, as I was afraid of making a mess of things. By the way, he and his father are going off in the morning to an oasis somewhere or other miles away in the desert, where they have got some brood mares and camels, and he thought we might like the ride with them. So I accepted for both of us. Are you on for it?"

"Of course I am," said I. "I don't let old Faris out of my sight until I have heard what he has to tell about that blessed belt."

CHAPTER V.

RAIDERS.

Barely a streak of dawn had shown itself in the eastern sky, when Sedjur clamoured at our tent door, shouting to us that it was time that we were up and in the saddle. Silence reigned in the encampment, as we stepped out into the grey morning, to find the sheik and his son already mounted, and awaiting us. An Arab stood close at hand holding the two horses which we were to ride, and the sheik, giving us a friendly greeting, told me that the beasts which he had selected for us were both sons of his favourite Kushki, the fleetest that he possessed, and far better than our own. He and Sedjur we noticed were armed with spear and sword, and before starting they made certain that we carried our revolvers.

"One can never tell," said Sedjur, "what the day may bring forth, and to go unarmed in the desert is to court death."

So, with the cold invigorating air almost cutting our faces, we set out on our ride into the unknown, at first picking our way slowly among the low bushes, then, on reaching the great sandy wastes, quickening our pace to a gentle canter. How our companions knew the way puzzled us considerably, for no landmark could we distinguish in any direction. Everywhere was sand—hard, red, baked sand; a veritable ocean of sand, and, like the ocean, wind-swept into mighty billows. The sun gradually rose, and we soon discovered that no landmark was necessary, as our route evidently lay due west, and the sun at our backs gave us our course.

For several hours the ride was monotonous in the extreme, then, at about noon, the sandy plains began to show signs of a change of country. Stones cropped up here and there, and in the far distance we could distinguish the filmy outlines of hills and mountains. The hills gradually drew nearer, and in a short time we found ourselves in a new land. Below us was a hollow filled with verdure, date trees, acacias, tamarisks, and luxuriant grassland, through which flowed trickling streams. This was the principal grazing ground of Faris's camels and mares, which we saw scattered in all directions, their herdsmen—all armed with spears and matchlocks—keeping a good look-out on the surrounding high ground.

"Hide yourselves behind the rocks," said the sheik, quietly, "and we will soon see if the men are on the alert."

Then stepping forward himself on to the sky-line, he stood quite motionless, while we peered from behind our shelters into the valley below. Far down in a date grove we heard the neigh of a horse, followed by the barking of a dog; then, as we looked, we could see each sentry turn instinctively towards the figure of the sheik. They had discovered the cause of the alarm, and Faris, satisfied, shouted a watchword which was evidently understood. The chief of the herdsmen rode up to greet us, and we descended with him to the shady spot where his tent was pitched, and where he soon regaled us with coffee and dates.

"Well, Hussein, what is the news?" asked the sheik.

"Nothing of great consequence, Lord Protector," answered the herdsmen, "but I am glad you have come. For three days now single Shammar horsemen have been observing us from different points, and we fear that they intend a raid on the beasts so soon as the moon gives sufficient light. We fully expected it last night, but no one came."

"Ah, Hussein," said the sheik, "it is the old story which you always have to tell. Rest assured that no Shammar dares to touch the property of Faris-ibn-Feyzul. Bring some more coffee, and then we will smoke our pipes until it is time for us to start again for our tents."

The sheik was in the best of spirits, and even talkative. Sedjur and he were evidently devoted to each other, and we could see that the father was as proud of his son as was the son of his father. They had ridden side by side in many a fight, though even now Sedjur was but twenty-four; and each had many tales to tell of the prowess of the other.

"How many of the accursed robbers did you say you encountered at Babil the day before yesterday, father?" asked Sedjur.

"Ten of the Shammar," was the reply, "and one other, of what tribe or nationality I know not. He was not of the desert, though wearing the dress. Perchance he came from Bokhara, or Yarkhand, or, God knows, from India. But whatever land gave him birth must be glad to be rid of him, for he showed not the courage of an Arab townsman. When we bore down on the band he incontinently rode off, and did not rein up and turn to see what was going on until at a safe distance. The dog valued his skin greatly."

"And you put them all to flight?"

"Surely did we," answered the sheik, vehemently, "and sent that black villain, Abbas, to Gehennum."

"What, Abbas-ibn-Rashid?"

"Even so, he who nearly killed you outside Baghdad, when our good friend, the Hakim, here, saved your life. It was an old score, my lad, and I wiped it out, praise be to Allah! We would have sent some more of his followers after the scoundrel, had not the soldiers come down on us, and I doubt not but that Abbas himself had previously warned them to be prepared."

"I am almost sorry, father, that you slew Abbas," said Sedjur, softly.

"Why?" asked the sheik, frowning at his son. "Have you turned woman? Do you wish to show mercy to your bitterest foe?"

"Nay, father, but I had lived for the day when I should meet the man face to face, sword to sword, and spear-point to spear-point. I grieved that you had robbed me of my chance of revenge."

"Well, well, Sedjur," laughed the sheik, "save his ghost, the desert will hear no more of Abbas."

"You secured no booty, then?" inquired Sedjur.

"His mare galloped off when her master fell," replied Faris, "and I brought away only his broken spear, and this."

The sheik raised his cloak, and revealed to our astonished eyes my chamois-leather money belt. Edwards and I instantly recognised it, and involuntary uttered an exclamation of surprise, when Faris, not understanding the reason for our excitement, but thinking that we were admiring his prize, took it off and handed it to us to examine.

"It is filled with money," said he, "and of much value. How Abbas gained possession of it I neither know nor care. It became the prize of war, and is now mine."

"Sheik of Sheiks," I exclaimed, holding the belt in my hand, and looking into his flashing eyes, "I can tell you what money that belt contained a little while since; for it was stolen from my waist as I slept outside the khan at Mahmoudieh not half a moon ago."

"Wonder of wonders!" ejaculated Faris and Sedjur simultaneously, the former appearing to be somewhat sceptical, though fearing to show any distrust of his guests.

"Let us examine the pockets one by one," I said, wishing to prove my bona fides. "In each of the five small pockets on either side of the buckle there should be five English gold pieces, and in the larger pocket at the back some odd kerans and rupees. Come, let us count them out."

I turned out the pockets one by one, and emptied their contents on to the sleeve of Sedjur's cloak. The thief had had no opportunity for spending the money, which was found to be exactly as I had stated. Faris's face wore an expression of utter bewilderment.

"We knew," said he at last to Sedjur, "what manner of man was our guest the Hakim, but we knew not that his friend was a magician, who, when he lost his property, could recover it at his pleasure. Yet now that I bring it to mind, he did but last night read to me the true description of Shahzadi, the grand-dam of my beloved Kushki, and, moreover, he showed me, on a paper, the impression of her eight-nailed shoe, the old Talisman of the Muntafik of which we have heard. All this is magic."

I felt that I had suddenly acquired a reputation by no means desirable, and I hastened to reassure my host, who, having replaced the money in the belt handed it to me, saying that, now that he knew that it was stolen property, he wished to restore it to its rightful owner.

"Nay, nay, sheik," said I, "you obtained it in a fair fight. I lost it through my own carelessness, and I can no longer claim it by right. I never thought to see it again."

"Then," answered Faris, "I see but one way out of the difficulty. If you refuse to take back your own, I offer the belt and all it contains to your friend the Hakim, as a present, in return for all the kindness which he showed to my son Sedjur. We of the desert have an unwritten law, by which no guest of the Aeniza can decline to accept a present from a sheik. Were this not so, then would I straightway ride to the Euphrates, and hurl the thing into its depths; for, knowing what I know, I can never now lay finger on it again. Come, Hakim, my honoured guest, buckle on the belt, and end the trouble; otherwise, who knows? it may prove to me as evil a possession as did that golden curse to many a Bedouin in the days gone by."

So Edwards, at my suggestion, took the belt and fastened it round his waist, offering profuse thanks to his host, who was apparently greatly relieved.

"Tell us, sheik," I said, seeing that he had recovered his equanimity, "something of the golden curse to which you alluded just now, and about which I spoke to you last night. We are all friends here; Sedjur has doubtless heard it all before, and the Hakim and I are one."

Faris looked stealthily round, to make sure that there were no eaves-droppers, and then suddenly turning his eyes on me exclaimed:—

"Think no more of it; forget it; for it will bring you nothing but ruin. I called you 'magician.' Whether I did so rightly or wrongly I cannot say, but this I do know, that your magic, be it ever so strong, can avail nothing against that circlet of gold. As you are aware, it disappeared long years back—even before dear Kushki saw the light of day. No man could ever say what became of it, though there be necromancers (not reckoned by us as men) who have the reputation of knowing all things, and who have been heard to affirm that they could, were they so minded, unearth that hidden curse. Yet even they fear to be so rash. As soon would they let loose in the world Shaitan and all the Jins. Do you suppose your Western magic to be more powerful than that of the East? Do you imagine that you are capable of combating all the evil that fell on every man who ever touched the dreaded thing? No, I cannot believe that you have such conceit."

"I am no magician, sheik," I said, interrupting him, "and I make no pretence to any power not possessed by yourself or any other man. We Englishmen consider all those who practise magic to be impostors. In all honesty, I told you last night that I had come to the desert in search of the Golden Girdle of the Great Queen; and I told you how my acquaintance with the story of the Muntafik talisman had led me to seek information from you."

"I know," said Faris, sorrowfully, "I remember all you said, and if I ever doubted you, the doubt has left me. I believe all that you told me. I swear it. Gladly would I help you to carry out the task imposed upon you; yet, I, Faris-ibn-Feyzul, Sheik of the Jelas Aeniza, who have faced death on countless occasions, and who would face it again at a moment's notice, out of pure love of fighting, I confess to you that I fear to have a hand in resuscitating the golden circlet. Mere death I count as nothing. All must die—whether it be sooner or whether it be later; and so long as I die, as every true Bedouin should, fighting the foes of his forefathers, I care nothing for myself. But how should I feel if, when dying, I knew that I had been instrumental in reviving, and in leaving behind me as a legacy to posterity, a curse on the inhabitants of the world?"

I began to think that the Golden Girdle had a most fearsome reputation, but I remembered that my uncle had specially warned me not to be influenced by the superstitious dread of the natives. I had always laughed at superstition, and though I had sufficient good sense not to laugh at the sheik, I inwardly considered his fears as ridiculous and childish.

"So be it, sheik," I said. "Far be it from me to attempt to influence you to do anything against the guidance of your conscience. Let us forget that we ever spoke of the Golden Girdle. Let us forget that it ever existed. There are troubles enough in the world without adding to them. We will converse on other matters."

"What thought you of the horse you have been riding?" inquired Faris proudly.

"Perfection," I replied. "Never have I sat on the back of his equal."

"I thought so," said Faris, beaming with delight "He is indeed a worthy son of my Kushki."

"And to think that we foreigners," said I, "possess her grand-dam's shoe!"

I had hardly finished speaking, when the sheik sprang to his feet, seized sword and spear, and rushed to his horse, shouting as he did so that the Shammar were upon us. Sedjur was in the saddle almost as soon as his father; and Edwards and I, not fully realising what was going on, followed suit in all haste. Then we saw what our host's keen eyes had seen a couple of seconds earlier. Over the ridge above us a long line of horsemen were sweeping down into the valley; the watchmen posted among the rocks fired their matchlocks as a signal of alarm, and ran for their horses, which were mostly tethered close to the spot where he had been resting. There was little time to think, but it was easy to understand the enemy's intentions. The mares and camels were all grazing down the valley, a quarter of a mile or so below us, while the herdsmen, in order that they might be able to obtain a wide view of the surrounding country, had been stationed on the higher ground above us and to our right and left. The raiders, evidently well aware of this somewhat faulty arrangement, had somehow crept up unnoticed to the vicinity of the ridge, and had then galloped in between the herdsmen and the herd, the foremost horsemen descending swiftly into the valley and rapidly working round and overlapping the grazing animals. This was an almost instantaneous evolution; in fact, when Faris first gave the alarm, the line had already shaped into a crescent, and before we had mounted, it had become a semicircle, separating the mares from the camels, and driving the former before it and away from us. The camels, being too refractory and slow to carry off, were left behind.

"Quick, Sedjur lad," shouted the sheik without any sign of excitement, "rally the herdsmen, and get ready for pursuit, while I watch the direction they take."

Then the lad, as his father called him, opened his lungs and sent up a war-howl, which rang through the whole valley, and came echoing back from every rock and every hollow. If it did not strike terror into the hearts of the raiders, at any rate it had a most inspiriting effect on the wretched herdsman, who showed the greatest keenness to get to their horses and form up for pursuit. How long it was before all the men had come in I do not remember; it could not have been many minutes, though it seemed like an hour. At last all were ready, and away we went at a hand-gallop, up the stony side of the valley, to the spot where the sheik awaited us. Sedjur—no longer the calm, imperturbable youth, but a fierce warrior, with long, gleaming spear raised aloft—led the party, Edwards and I abreast of him, on either side.

"This is no work for you," said Sedjur, addressing me as we rode along. "You and the Hakim had best drop behind and await our return."

"Have you such a poor opinion of us town-dwellers, then?" I replied. "We are your guests, and it is our duty to assist you. Besides, we want to see the fun."

"Bravely said," exclaimed the sheik, who had overheard my reply as we approached him. "Come on and help us to deal death to the Shammar thieves. They have crossed the plain, and are away on the other side of the ridge yonder."

How our little well-bred horses flew over that sandy strip! Their hoofs seemed barely to touch the ground. In front galloped the sheik; close behind him, we three; then the Bedouin herdsmen, some twenty in number, like a troop of cavalry in single rank.

We topped the ridge, and without drawing rein drank in the scene before us. There lay another stretch of rolling desert, which in the far distance appeared to slope gradually up to a network of bold hills. Midway between us and the hills, we could see clearly enough the mares being driven off, and raising a vast moving column of dust, resembling a sand-storm. That our enemies were expert cattle-lifters was evident, for they kept the beasts all going at a swinging trot, in one compact body.

Faris raised a wild shout as his quarry came in view, and pressed forward into the plain.

"Take half to the left, Sedjur; quick lad, and work round, so as to head them off from the hills. I will take the rest to the right. If the devils reach the hills, we shall not recover a single mare."

A strong breeze was blowing from one side, and carried the dust raised by the fugitives well away to leeward, enabling us to see and almost count the number of men with whom we would have to reckon. That they out-numbered our party was certain; though, as far as we could judge, not by very many. For the moment, however, actual numbers were of small account; speed was the sole thought; for the necessity of cutting in between the enemy and the hills was now very apparent. Though they were almost a mile away from us, and had little more than another mile to traverse before reaching the shelter of the hills, we certainly had the great advantage of being unhampered by loose beasts; while our opponents had to keep the mares together, so as to prevent them from breaking away. As our party divided, Edwards and I happened to be rather more to the left than to the right, so we naturally drifted off with Sedjur, who, waving his spear above his head, led his handful of men away to the flank. Rapidly we gained on the bulky column of dust; we were soon abreast of it, and it blew across our path and enveloped us, so that we were almost choked. As we emerged from the dense cloud, we saw that the sheik's party had out-distanced us by a little, and had already reached a point between the enemy and the hills, so Sedjur wheeled half right, and went straight for the stolen mares; while his father, observing the movement, instantly swung round and brought his men down pell-mell on the foremost of the enemy. Panic seized the raiders, and before we could reach them, they abandoned their booty, and fled in a disorganised mass away to the flank farthest from us. The mares were saved, though there was still the risk of their terror causing them to scatter over the desert. Sedjur and his party, however, understood their business, and rounding them up, soon pacified them. Meanwhile, the sheik had seen his opportunity, and at the very moment that the enemy took flight, he suddenly changed his direction, and went off in hot pursuit of the fugitives.

"Come on, Henderson," said Edwards, "let's be in at the death."

"Right you are," I shouted. And away we went. It was a stern chase and a long one; but when we had almost caught up our friends, we found that they had overhauled the tailmost of the band, and that a brisk fight was imminent. Then Edwards, who was a little ahead of me, suddenly reined up his horse, so that it nearly fell over backwards, and I instinctively did the same.

"What is the matter?" I asked.

"This is not our game," replied Edwards, somewhat sternly. "The poor devils could not stand our revolvers. It would be sheer butchery to use them. I don't want to shoot any of them, and I am sure you don't. Besides, look, the sheik is drawing off his men, and I expect he considers that honour is satisfied."

At first I felt that I had been rebuked; for, on joining in the pursuit, I certainly had had every intention of using my revolver freely. But I soon saw that my companion's argument was perfectly sound, and I was glad that the combat had suddenly come to a close without our being called upon to take part in it. The sheik and his party presently returned, the enemy having disappeared into the hills, and we now learned the reason of the rapid withdrawal.

"They were leading us into an ambuscade," said Faris, as he rejoined us. "If it had not been for you, I, in my excitement, should have gone on, and doubtless we should all have been killed. I saw you pull up, and I instantly understood that you realised the stratagem I thank you both for giving me the signal."

Now, although I believe that Edwards and I were as honest as most men, we did not think it at all necessary to enlighten the sheik as to our real motive in suddenly coming to a halt. As a matter of fact, we were so astonished at what he said that we did not reply, thus leaving him with a high opinion of our astuteness, which, as we never undeceived him, he probably retained to the end of his days. There was, however, little time to think about what had occurred, for the main object now was to return to the mares, and conduct them back to a place of security. Naturally, everyone was very jubilant at having recovered the stolen beasts, and Sedjur and his party had already set them in motion towards home. Then the great cloud of dust once again rose upwards, almost obscuring the fast sinking sun, and darkness had set in before the mares were once again at the grazing ground from which they had been carried off.

CHAPTER VI.

THE SHEIK'S STORY.

That night we stayed at the grazing-ground, half expecting another attack, the sheik thinking it by no means unlikely that there was a large number of the Shammar tribe on the hills. But nothing occurred to disturb our rest, though we took it in turns to watch all night, Edwards keeping Sedjur company, whilst I sat with Faris. For half an hour or so after we came on duty the sheik remained silent, then he began to speak in a low tone.

"Magician," he said.

"Do not call me by that name," I said laughing. "I am nothing of the kind."

"Well," he replied, "if the name does not please you, I will not call you by it. Still, the man who can tell one all about the breed of a mare directly he sees her, who can recover his own stolen property whensoever he chooses, and who has just now returned to me all my stolen mares—a man who can do such things, I say, must possess powers of no ordinary kind. Such a man we desert folk call by the name magician."

"So be it, sheik," said I, not caring to argue further about the matter, "call me what you will. But what was it you were going to say when I interrupted you."

"It was a small thing," said he. "I had been thinking of Shahzadi's shoe, the Muntafik talisman. Where did you say it was kept?"

"In the biggest building in the biggest town in all England," I replied.

"Why should your people wish to keep in such a place so unimportant a thing as the shoe of one of our mares? I cannot understand you Europeans. Men come and pay much money for bricks and pieces of stone picked out of the ground at Babil, and carry them away on the backs of asses. The Bedouins laugh at them. Do these also go to the big house where the horse-shoe is?"

"Yes, the house is full of such things, and were it possible to obtain the Golden Belt of the Great Queen, that likewise would be placed there."

"Better not," said Faris, "for the big house would totter and fall, and the whole town would be destroyed. Such things have happened in years gone by in this land—and, they say, because of that accursed belt. I do not know if what they say is true, but you have yourself seen what is left of such a great town as Babil, and I know of many another which has been levelled, and swallowed up by the sand. I say again, forget that belt of gold. Tell those who live in the big house that it is lost for ever. But Shahzadi's shoe is a different thing. Tell me, do the people who live in the big house keep all they possess for ever?"

"You want to know," I said, "whether you could possibly obtain the horse-shoe. I will copy the drawing, and write out for you, in Arabic, a copy of the document which I read to you."

"It would be of small value," said the sheik, with a sigh; "but, oh, if I could obtain the real shoe of the great Shahzadi, then would I be for ever happy."

"Sheik," I replied, "it can never be—at least it would be very difficult. Perhaps if I were to find the Golden Girdle, and were able to lay it before the keepers of the big house, perhaps, I say, they might regard me with favour and ask what I would in return. If at that moment I could reply, 'One, Faris-ibn-Feyzul, a great Sheik of the Aeniza, and my devoted friend, even he whose assistance enabled me to be successful in my quest of the Golden Girdle, is the owner of the mare Kushki, whose grand-dam was the famous Shahzadi. He desires above all things to possess the shoe of his noble Kushki's grand-dam, and this shoe is in your keeping.' Then, perhaps, the great men would consult together, and might say to me, 'You have done well in recovering the Great Queen's belt, and Faris ibn-Feyzul must be a truly worthy man; it is well that he should receive a fitting reward for his valuable services; therefore we ordain that the shoe of the mare Shahzadi shall be handed to you for conveyance to the sheik.'"

"That would indeed be a day of days for me, and for all the Aeniza," said the sheik. "But, alas, it can never be more than a dream. For, if I understand you rightly, the price of the shoe is that belt of gold."

"Yes," I answered, "that is what I meant."

"You cannot forget the wretched thing," said he, almost angrily. "Let the world go on its way. Do not seek to destroy all that is good in it. There are things which Allah has decreed shall be left alone; and if its history has been handed down to us truly, this golden circlet is one of them."

"Sheik," I said, "you are a great man, and chief of an important branch of a great tribe. Your men regard you with reverence and respect, and your position has doubtless given you a vast knowledge of men and of the affairs of the world. Yet you believe in superhuman and supernatural occurrences; or you think that you believe in them. You think that I am a magician, because I have been connected with certain events which had results different from what you expected. You believe in the mysterious powers of this Golden Girdle, because you have always heard wild stories about it."

As I concluded, I was astounded at my audacity in thus rating a Bedouin sheik in his own country, but my object was to draw him out, and to induce him to divulge what he knew of the Golden Girdle. I was aware that I could not persuade him that I was not a magician, and I now began to hope that he was superstitious enough to think that I could see through him and everything else. I firmly believe that he had the idea that there was something mysterious about me; otherwise I cannot account for the fact that this man, the terror of all the neighbouring tribes, should now, and on many other occasions, have allowed me to speak to him, and even dictate to him in a manner such as I often did.

Faris remained silent for a long while. I was afraid that I had insulted him. I did not dare to break the silence, and in the black hours before dawn this silence became oppressive. At last I summoned up courage, and put the question—

"I trust, sheik," I said, "that I did not offend you by my open speech."

"No, my son," he replied. And I knew that by thus addressing me, he bore me no malice.

"You townsmen," he went on, "and especially you Europeans, do not understand the minds of the dwellers in the desert. Sedjur, after his return from the Hakim's house in Baghdad, told me many things about you and your curious ways. In the towns you may not have strange things influencing your destinies, as we in the desert have always with us. Perchance, you are protected from them by the soldiers and the watchmen. In this manner your eyes are blinded, and you do not see such things as we see."

"Perhaps you are right, sheik," I replied, wishing to appease him. "But tell me some of the strange things that this golden belt has done?"

"Of myself," he replied, "I know nothing about it. All that I know and believe was told to me by my father, who saw and was an actor in many of the events. Other tales, as numerous almost as the stars in the heavens, I have heard from time to time. Some of them may be true; others are undoubtedly false. Of the long, long ago, when the belt was worn by the living queen, I am ignorant. My knowledge is only of modern times, when my father was a young man. Before I had arrived at years of discretion the belt had been laid to rest again. I can just recollect my father's return to camp with his prize of war, the beautiful young mare Shahzadi, to whose daughter in later years was born my mare Kushki—and she was born full twenty summers ago."

"You never saw the belt, then," I asked.

"Never," said the sheik, "but my father and other men with whom I was acquainted had often handled it, and they were fond of describing its magnificent workmanship—so much so that I have often thought that I must have seen it myself."

"What was it like?" I inquired, curious to know if his description would agree with that furnished to me by my papers.

"It was of pure gold," said Faris enthusiastically, "and wonderfully fashioned. It represented on the outer side, as seen on the waist of anyone wearing it, twelve life-like serpents intertwined in various contortions. The flat head of each serpent was thick-set with rare gems, and the body of each beast was composed of a thousand or more small links, so that the belt was as flexible as a piece of cord. It was solid and of great weight, and the fastening consisted of the heads of four of the serpents, two on either side, with wide-opened jaws whose fangs interlocked. Thus much I remember of what was told to me; and I remember also that my father affirmed that no man fastened the belt round his body with impunity. So great was the power contained in it, that the wearer appeared instantly to become demented, to rave, and foam at the mouth, and in some instances even to die before the belt could be removed from his body. A party of the Khazail who first dug up the thing suffered considerably in this respect, and perhaps it was fortunate for them that when attacking a caravan of Persian pilgrims returning from Mecca they were worsted, and in the fight lost their treasured circlet. The Persians, shortly afterwards, perished to a man, when the winds of the desert swept up, and buried them and their camels in the hot sand. The belt was lost for a while, and forgotten. Then came the day when some merchants of Hayil, on a journey to Baghdad, chanced to come across the remains of the Persian caravan, and found the belt lying half buried in the sand. The finder's claim to its possession was disputed by his fellows, and in the altercation that followed, he, as well as three friends who espoused his cause, were killed. The others, deciding to sell the belt in Baghdad and divide the proceeds, went on their way. They travelled by night, hoping thus to avoid the bands of robbers by whom the road was infested, and they lost the direction, so that they found themselves at length far to the south of Baghdad near to the river Tigris. One night they slept in the great ruined hall of the Kosroes at Ctesiphon, and while they slept a vast portion of the walls gave way and fell, crushing all that remained of the party save two men who fled in terror, but not before they had secured the golden belt. They were almost immediately overtaken by robbers, who stripped them of their clothes, took all their possessions, and decamped with everything, including that girdle. All those things occurred when my father was quite a young man, and when my father's father was sheik. I have said enough to show you that there was a curse on the belt, and that all who touched it paid the penalty—usually a severe one."

"But, sheik," I said, "tell me more of these weird tales, which interest me greatly. Had you been a servant of the great Harun-al-Rashid you could not have learned to tell stories better. Come, the Shammar have no intention of annoying us, so relate all that you know of the mysterious workings of the belt until it disappeared for ever. What became of the robbers who left the two merchants naked in the desert, and what became of the merchants?"

"Well, story-telling passes the dark hours pleasantly, and though I would prefer to hear from you the doings of your own people in your native land, I am your host and therefore your servant, who needs must obey his master. What became of the merchants I cannot say, for no man ever knew. Perhaps they perished from exposure to the scorching sun; perhaps they died of hunger and thirst; or perhaps they fell an easy prey to the wild beasts. But in what manner they met their death Allah alone knows. Of the robbers I can tell you what was told to me. They were Khazail, and strange as it may appear, there were among them some men who had been of the party that dug up the belt and afterwards lost it to the Persians. Now these men had been witnesses of the evil that befell those of their tribesmen who had worn the belt—how some had died, and some had for a time become mad—and they cautioned their companions against having anything to do with it. After a long discussion, they decided that they would bury it on the bank of the river, send the chief of the party to Baghdad to interview a Jew dealer, and endeavour to sell it. The Jew eventually returned with the chief, examined the belt, and bought it for a thousand kerans, after which he rolled it up carefully in his cloak and conveyed it home. Next day, he repaired to the palace of the Governor-General and offered the belt for sale for five thousand kerans; but the Governor-General refused to buy it for so great a sum. That night the Jew's house was consumed by fire, the Jew himself being burned to death, and nothing remained of the contents of the house.

"That the golden belt did not perish in the flames is certain, since it appeared again after some little time; and many years afterwards a slave-attendant of the palace harem stated that she had seen a mysterious snake-girdle hanging therein. It may be that its presence there accounted for the fact, which was well known at the time, that a grievous sickness attacked the ladies of the harem and their children. Many died, for there was nothing that would cure them. But of that little ever came to light.

"In the course of time the Governor-General, returning to Turkey, took the road to Damascus, accompanied by a large following and a strong escort. The news that so large a party was leaving Baghdad to cross the desert soon got noised abroad among the tribes, but none were found daring enough to risk an attack on it. A band of Shammar, however, followed on the heels of the great caravan at a safe distance for some days, watching their opportunity to waylay stragglers, and eventually came up with two camels which had broken down and were being urged on by a few men. The Shammar made short work of the men, and looted the packages carried by the camels. They contained much valuable property, and sewn up carefully in several silk kaffiyas was found the Golden Belt. Fearing to be followed, the robbers made off with their booty as rapidly as possible, and did not stop until they had put many miles between them and the caravan. Now it would seem, from what has been related, that the silk covering which enclosed the belt deprived it of its power of causing harm; for, it is on record that so long as it was wrapped up, no man suffered any evil effects from touching it, and it remained in the possession of the Shammar for some years. Those Khazail who had first dug it up, and later on sold it to the Jew in Baghdad, came to see it in the Shammar tents, and identified it as the same belt. They warned the Shammar of its hidden power, but were derided. Other tribes, hearing of the Shammar treasure, for which even a Baghdad Jew had paid a thousand kerans, made friends with its owners, so that they might inspect it. In this manner this offshoot of the Shammar made alliances with many tribes who had hitherto been hostile to them, and the Aeniza—too proud to approach their ancient enemies—were forsaken by many of their old friends.

"About this time my father's father died, and my father became Sheik of the Jelas. When he addressed his people, he told them that their hereditary foes, the Shammar, had grown strong because of their ownership of the serpents of gold, and he urged upon them the necessity of breaking the power of the Shammar, by attacking the small Salama tribe who held the belt, and seizing their treasure. It was my father himself who told me of this, so I know it to be true. He picked thirty of his best fighting men, rode all night, and attacked the Salama's camp at dawn. They resisted bravely, and a fierce fight ensued, but so sudden had been the onslaught, that the victory was easy. In those days, the Jelas neither gave nor expected quarter, and though they lost several men, they utterly destroyed the whole family of the Shammar Salama occupying these tents, with the exception of the sheik, Jedaan-ibn-Mirshid, and his spear-bearer, who, leaping to their horses, fled away. The pursuit was immediately taken up. Jedaan's mare cast a shoe, which caused her to stumble and fall, and my father, riding up, slew his enemy with his own hand—capturing the priceless Shahzadi, who, as you know, was none other than the grand-dam of dear Kushki."

"But how," I asked, "did Shahzadi's shoe become the talisman of the Muntafik?"

"Ah, that," said the sheik, "is a story for another time."

The Treasure of the Tigris: A Tale of Mesopotamia

THE TREASURE OF THE TIGRIS

A TALE OF MESOPOTAMIA

BY LIEUT.-COLONEL A. F. MOCKLER-FERRYMAN

AUTHOR OF "LIFE STORY OF A TIGER"
"HEMMED IN" ETC.

WITH EIGHT FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
IN COLOUR BY ALLAN STEWART

A. & C. BLACK LTD.
4, 5 & 6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W.1

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

First published in 1908

"I BALANCED IT EXACTLY, AND SLOWLY AND STEADILY DREW IT UP"

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR

By ALLAN STEWART