The Shriek Part 6

"That's what I get for paying you a flat rate for this job!" cried Verbeena fiercely, truculently. "You want to have it over as quickly as possible. Why, that caravan is going straight back to Biscuit! You know very well that it's a month for me in the desert or nothing. I went all over it with you about six thousand times. Nothing under a month will do and it will not be until we have traveled six days deep on this old sandcarpet, Musty, you bra.s.s-faced blurb, before I'll begin looking about for more permanent arrangements. What a ninny I was to have paid you two dollars in advance!"

O'er the swart features of the under Shereef shot a spasm of anger.

But he dodged a cigarette b.u.t.t with fine skill and masked his feelings under glinting eyes.

"Give my compliments to that grimy-looking outfit," said Verbeena tartly, "and let's step along."

[Ill.u.s.tration: MUSTY ALE, A LOW, UNSCRUPULOUS FELLOW.]

"#$%&) )$""&&&%***'!!!!" (Chesty Redhead!) murmured Musty Ale when he was well out of range.

Suddenly a white figure, big as a circus tent and looking the same, detached itself from the other roughriders, whirled up to Musty and the black whiskers of this new demon parted widely showing a very superior set of sharply pointed white fangs.

"_Hollerwoller, hippolo, jazzamarabi zop zing!_"

"I wouldn't care if you did," replied Musty promptly. "How much?"

"Eighty-six beans!" said the big feller. And before the other's eyes he bobbed a large goatskin purse which jingled.

"Marks or francs?"

"O, my well-known Allah! Better'n 'nat! American pennies! How's that hippolohit yer?"

"Gimme that bag! She's yours."

Musty Ale shoved the coin of treachery next to a half loaf of bread under his sandy jelab.

As the other wheeled his magnificent charger to spur it to a violent gallop, Musty suddenly called:

"_Hup!_" (Halt!)

"What?"

"She likes to be called 'Queen.'"

"And who is she that I--but thanks for the tip. Allah keep the fleas off you, me lad."

"Thanks yourself," answered Musty, "although he never has yet."

But the white circus tent on the plunging black beastie was already far away.

CHAPTER IV

Verbeena had thought when Musty Ale held back to have a talk with the large gentleman in the white wrappings her sulky retainer was doubtless obeying her order to tell the person who seemed to be the Admiral Beattie of the desert ships, that in the matter of her joining his particular caravan there would be nothing the whatsoever doing.

She was very much annoyed therefore to discover that this man in the prominently large turban had evidently refused to take Musty's word for it and meant to talk the matter over with her in person. It would seem so. His black horse--Verbie could see it was no dog--was doing about 1,59-1/2 in her direction.

There might be a whole lot that Verbeena did not know about the other s.e.x.

But she was fully cognizant what Arabic bargaining meant. Starting to d.i.c.ker at one in the afternoon of a perfect day in June one continued to the following Shrove Tuesday.

They always had as much to say about a shilling purchase as Joseph Conrad did about Lord Jim.

We who have witnessed the scene of tragic treachery against her on the part of Musty Ale in conspiracy with the hard rider now abaft the oasis in the rapidly diminishing offing, must tremble now for Verbeena Mayonnaise. Although even we cannot as yet suspect the half of what is coming to her.

And of all persons Verbeena!

So unprepared, untrained and sure to be boyishly baffled at finding herself the object and victim of a large consignment of fiery, wild, untamed, hectic and rrrrrrred-hot desert pa.s.sion now being swiftly shipped to her on horseback.

The sun was beating relentlessly on the roof of Verbeena's white helmet and she did not propose to wait and let this big goof attempt to sell her any fake rugs, bangles, beads or poor caravan accommodations.

She gave the spurs, therefore, right heartily to her beloved steed and he proceeded to cut down a large section of the Sahara ahead.

Let Musty and his gang follow. Unquestionably this person on his way toward her would have sufficient Oriental subtlety to take the hint.

He would doubtless rein up his horse and save oats.

But--there was a loud crack of a whip behind her.

Verbeena was very much astonished when her n.o.ble Berb, Al Dobbin, stopped nearly dead in his tracks, stood up on his hind legs and did some waltz steps.

During the whirl she noticed that the big white chap was still coming toward her.

She gave Al Dobbin the spurs again and once more he moved into a fast gallop over the dunes.

Again the whip cracked behind her! And again! (Two cracks.)

Al Dobbin stood on his hind legs neatly and pawed gracefully.

Plainly he was bidding for a lump of sugar.

And all she could possibly have offered him was a cigarette!

Once more Verbeena spurred him to a start.

"A blooming circus creature," she gasped, "and in pursuit must be his trainer. And where the deuce is Musty? He must have stolen this fancy ballet horse from the husky white ulster now so rapidly approaching!

The rotter! I suspected Musty from the first but didn't care to mention it to Tawdry. Wisht I had! Still, when one adventures, why----"

Crack! Crack! Crack! (Three cracks.)

Immediately Al Dobbin knelt to pray.

Verbeena, not knowing the signals, smacked her helmet hard against the desert of Sahara, matted her curls and stretched motionless, a lighted cigarette in her hand.

One could read a symbol in its curling smoke of the fiery spirit yet existent in the lithe, young, p.r.o.ne, boyish body as well as the indubitable indication of an unbreakable habit.