The moment that he gave a sign of advancing against his ravishers, the captive’s life would pay the penalty; if he merely remained in arms, without direct attack, she would be made the Marquis’ mistress, and abandoned later to the army.  The only terms on which he could have her restored were instant submission to the Imperial rule, and personal homage of himself and all his Djouad to the Marquis as the representatives of France—­homage in which they should confess themselves dogs and the sons of dogs.

So ran the message of peace.

The Chasseur read on to the end calmly.  Then he lifted his gaze, and looked at the Emir—­he expected fifty swords to be buried in his heart.

As he gazed, he thought no more of his own doom; he thought only of the revelation before him, of what passion and what agony could be—­things unknown in the world where the chief portion of his life had passed.  He was a war-hardened campaigner, trained in the ruthless school of African hostilities; who had seen every shape of mental and physical suffering, when men were left to perish of gun-wounds, as the rush of the charge swept on; when writhing horses died by the score of famine and of thirst; when the firebrand was hurled among sleeping encampments, and defenseless women were torn from their rest by the unsparing hands of pitiless soldiers.  But the torture which shook for a second the steel-knit frame of this Arab passed all that he had dreamed as possible; it was mute, and held in bonds of iron, for the sake of the desert pride of a great ruler’s majesty; but it spoke more than any eloquence ever spoke yet on earth.

With a wild, shrill yell, the Bedouins whirled their naked sabers above their heads, and rushed down on the bearer of this shame to their chief and their tribe.  The Chasseur did not seek to defend himself.  He sat motionless.  He thought the vengeance just.

The Sheik raised his sword, and signed them back, as he pointed to the white folds of the flag.  Then his voice rolled out like thunder over the stillness of the plains: 

“But that you trust yourself to my honor I would rend you limb from limb.  Go back to the tiger who rules you, and tell him that—­as Allah liveth—­I will fall on him, and smite him as he hath never been smitten.  Dead or living, I will have back my own.  If he take her life, I will have ten thousand lives to answer it; if he deal her dishonor, I will light such a holy war through the length and breadth of the land that his nation shall be driven backward like choked dogs into the sea, and perish from the face of the earth for evermore.  And this I swear by the Law and the Prophet!”

The menace rolled out, imperious as a monarch’s, thrilling through the desert hush.  The Chasseur bent his head, as the words closed.  His own teeth were tightly clinched, and his face was dark.