Mohammed vainly endeavors to cry out, to
release his hands; he is securely bound, and his lips can utter no
word.
They stop at last, and Arnhyn speaks, but in such low tones that
Mohammed can understand nothing. He only hears another voice
replying. Then he is lifted high and deposited on a soft cushion.
"Now, Butheita," murmured the voice of him who had borne him from
the tent, "ride on to the tent with him, and keep him securely until
our master, Osman Bey Bardissi, comes to speak with him! Guard him
well, for you must know, my daughter, that, dearly as your father
loves you, Butheita must die if he escapes. This, I swear, by Allah,
so be on your guard, my daughter!"
"You can rely on me, Father Arnhyn," replied the soft voice of a
woman. "I shall guard him as though he were my dearest treasure on
earth; he shall not escape Butheita."
"Then farewell, my child! I must now hasten back, for to-morrow will
be a day of battle. But I hope to bring you rich spoils in two days,
and Osman Bey has promised to reward me well for my work. Hold him
fast, Butheita; he is bound and gagged, and you have nothing to fear
from him. Allah be with you, my child!"
And now they ride swiftly through the night. Whither? He knows not.
He lies bound on a cushion, and only feels, by the movement of the
animal, and by the shaking and jolting his body undergoes, that he
is on the back of a dromedary.
Pages:
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473