Queen Sheba's Ring eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 368 pages of information about Queen Sheba's Ring.

Now I would have followed them, guessing that they had some good reason for this sudden departure.  But Higgs refused to come, and Orme, in whom his foolish taunt seemed still to rankle, only shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.

“Let the black curs go,” exclaimed the Professor as he polished his blue spectacles and mopped his face.  “They are a white-livered lot of sneaks.  Look!  There she is, creeping off to the left.  If we run round that sand-hill we shall meet her.”

So we ran round the sand-hill, but we did not meet her, although after long hunting we struck the blood spoor afresh, and followed it for several miles, first in this direction, and then in that, until Orme and I wondered at Higgs’s obstinacy and endurance.  At length, when even he was beginning to despair, we put up the lioness in a hollow, and fired several shots at her as she hobbled over the opposing slope, one of which hit her, for she rolled over, then picked herself up again, roaring.  As a matter of fact, it came from the Captain’s rifle, but Higgs, who, like many an inexperienced person was a jealous sportsman, declared that it was his and we did not think it worth while to contradict him.

On we toiled, and, just beyond the ridge, walked straight into the lioness, sitting up like a great dog, so injured that she could do nothing but snarl hideously and paw at the air.

“Now it is my turn, old lady,” ejaculated Higgs, and straightway missed her clean from a distance of five yards.  A second shot was more successful, and she rolled over, dead.

“Come on,” said the exultant Professor, “and we’ll skin her.  She sat on me, and I mean to sit on her for many a day.”

So we began the job, although I, who had large experience of this desert, and did not like the appearance of the weather, wished to leave the beast where it lay and get back to the oasis.  It proved long, for I was the only one of us who had any practical knowledge of flaying animals, and in that heat extremely unpleasant.

At length it was done, and, having doubled the hide over a rifle for two of us to carry in turns, we refreshed ourselves from the water-bottles (I even caught the Professor washing the blood off his face and hands with some of the precious fluid).  Then we started for the oasis, only to discover, though we were all sure that we knew the way, that not one of us had a slightest idea of its real direction.  In the hurry of our departure we had forgotten to bring a compass, and the sun, that would have been our guide in ordinary circumstances, and to which we always trusted in the open desert, was hidden by the curious haze that has been described.

So, sensibly enough, we determined to return to the sand crest where we had killed the lioness, and then trace our own footprints backward.  This seemed simple enough, for there, within half-a-mile, rose the identical ridge.

We reached it, grumbling, for the lion-skin was heavy, only to discover that it was a totally different ridge.  Now, after reflection and argument, we saw our exact mistake, and made for what was obviously the real ridge—­with the same result.

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Queen Sheba's Ring from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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