In another minute we had started at a trot toward
the White Rock, whilst from the city of Harmac behind
us rose a wail of fear and misery. We gained
the top of the rise on which I had shot the horseman,
and, as I expected, found that the Fung had posted
a strong guard in the dip beyond, out of reach of
our bullets, in order to cut us off, should we attempt
to escape. Now, terrified by what had happened,
to them a supernatural catastrophe, they were escaping
themselves, for we perceived them galloping off to
the left and right as fast as their horses would carry
them.
So for awhile we went on unmolested, though not very
quickly, because of Orme’s condition. When
we had covered about half the distance between us
and the White Rock, I looked round and became aware
that we were being pursued by a body of cavalry about
a hundred strong, which I supposed had emerged from
some other gate of the city.
“Flog the animals,” I shouted to Quick,
“or they will catch us after all.”
He did so, and we advanced at a shambling gallop,
the horsemen gaining on us every moment. Now
I thought that all was over, especially when of a
sudden from behind the White Rock emerged a second
squad of horsemen.
“Cut off!” I exclaimed.
“Suppose so, sir,” answered Quick, “but
these seem a different crowd.”
I scanned them and saw that he was right. They
were a very different crowd, for in front of them
floated the Abati banner, which I could not mistake,
having studied it when I was a guest of the tribe:
a curious, triangular, green flag covered with golden
Hebrew characters, surrounding the figure of Solomon
seated on a throne. Moreover, immediately behind
the banner in the midst of a bodyguard rode a delicately
shaped woman clothed in pure white. It was the
Child of Kings herself!
Two more minutes and we were among them. I halted
my camel and looked round to see that the Fung cavalry
were retreating. After the events of that morning
clearly they had no stomach left for a fight with a
superior force.
The lady in white rode up to us.
“Greetings, friend,” she exclaimed to
me, for she knew me again at once. “Now,
who is captain among you?”
I pointed to the shattered Orme, who sat swaying on
his camel with eyes half closed.
“Noble sir,” she said, addressing him,
“if you can, tell me what has happened.
I am Maqueda of the Abati, she who is named Child of
Kings. Look at the symbol on my brow, and you
will see that I speak truth,” and, throwing
back her veil, she revealed the coronet of gold that
showed her rank.
BARUNG
At the sound of this soft voice (the extreme softness
of Maqueda’s voice was always one of her greatest
charms), Orme opened his eyes and stared at her.
“Very queer dream,” I heard him mutter.
“Must be something in the Mohammedan business
after all. Extremely beautiful woman, and that
gold thing looks well on her dark hair.”
