The Wheel O' Fortune Part 27

CHAPTER XIII

THE SIGN IN THE SKY

"There is a spice of the nomad in all of us," said Irene, pulling up her hardy Somali pony and allowing him to graze on some p.r.i.c.kly plant from which a gra.s.s-fed animal would have turned in hungry disgust.

"Here am I, quite new to desert life, enjoying it to the full. Perhaps my remote ancestors were gipsies. Do I look like a gipsy, Mr. Royson?"

"My acquaintance with gipsies is limited," said d.i.c.k. "Once, being free from office troubles on Derby Day, I walked over Epsom Downs, and was beseeched many times to have my fortune told. Most of the prophetesses --they were all of your s.e.x, Miss Fenshawe--were blessed with exceedingly fine complexions and beautiful eyes. If these are marked features of the gipsy tribe--"

"Don't you dare bring me out here in order to pay compliments."

"Indeed, I am but stating the bare truth to your face."

"If you persist, then, I shall be compelled to act the part of a gipsy and tell your fortune, and I warn you that it will not be very cheerful hearing."

Royson gazed beyond her towards a white mist which shrouded the eastern horizon. Overhead, the delicious blue of early morning was yielding to the noonday tint of molten copper.

"Even if we turn back to-day there are thirty marches between us and the sea," he said with seeming irrelevance.

But those two were beginning to understand one another, and the girl colored under the deep tan of sun and air.

"Whenever we are alone now you insist on talking nonsense," she said.

"I really believe the desert has made you light-headed. Please be serious for a moment. I brought you here to--"

"I am glad you have corrected yourself. A moment ago you charged me with bringing _you_ here."

"Well, then, we came here, if one must be so accurate, to be away from the others. At least, I mean--Well, that is a stupid way of putting it, but it will serve--"

"It has served most admirably," said Royson, glancing back at the long drawn-out caravan crossing the shallow valley they had just quitted.

"There you go again," she cried, with just a touch of petulance in her tone. "You know very well that I did not mean what I said."

"Not even when you promised to tell my fortune."

"I can explain myself that way if you like. Your fortune is singularly like my own at the present moment. You are accompanying a crowd of people who don't know where they are going, or what they mean to do when they get there. I am quite sure the Baron is befogged, or, if that is not a happy expression in this wonderful atmosphere, shall I say lost? I don't speak Arabic, but I can read that man's face, and I watched him this morning when he was consulting our so-called guide. In plain English, Mr. Royson, we are drifting, in the vain hope that somewhere out there we shall find five hills in a clump. I don't object, in a sense. It is a very delightful picnic from one point of view. But I hate uncertainty, and I loathe deceit, and here we are at the mercy of both, while my grandfather is so taken up with the joy of arranging everything, which von Kerber very cleverly leaves to him, that he simply won't listen to me when I suggest the need of more definite information. And just think of it! Five Hills! With a rocky desert in front and five thousand hills to the left. What is to be the end of it all? Are we to go wandering on till we march into Suez, or Cairo?"

"Our sheikh is a marvel at finding oases," said d.i.c.k. "I wonder if there is a string of them all the way between here and--"

"Mr. Royson," broke in Irene, "you are the only person' to whom I can confide my doubts and fears. They may be silly, but please don't adopt that tone. It--hurts."

Royson, who had dismounted, slipped his Arab's bridle under an arm and strode a pace nearer.

"Don't you see that we can do nothing at present?" he said earnestly.

"I am alive to the difficulties which may beset us in the near future; but what would you have me do, Miss Fenshawe? If your grandfather were not of the party, I know exactly what I would propose--at least, I think I know."

"And that is?"

"That Stump and some of our men should escort you and Mrs. Haxton back to Pajura, and let our Austrian friend ride his hobby to death. And believe me, I am not consulting my own wishes in saying that."

"Don't you wish to return?"

"No. I love this arid land. I never see the supercilious curl of a camel's lip or meet the bland contempt of his eye but I imagine him saying, 'Ah, Feringhi, were it not for your white skin I might whisper strange secrets into your ear, but you are an unbelieving dog, so perforce I remain dumb.' Hence, Miss Fenshawe, inclination pulls one way and common sense the other. As matters stand, I plead guilty to a profound gladness that common sense has not swayed us to-day, and may escape us to-morrow. Candidly, I am enjoying myself immensely."

"Then there is nothing more to be said," cried Irene, yielding somewhat to his buoyancy. "Shall we go on, or wait here for the _kafila_ to overtake us."

"Unless I am greatly mistaken," said d.i.c.k, looking at his watch, "we shall find the usual oasis hidden in a depression about two miles ahead. Our excellent sheikh, Abdur Kad'r, times the morning march to end precisely at ten o'clock. It is now a quarter to nine. Our camels march two and a half miles per hour, and we are three quarters of a mile ahead. Therein, Miss Fenshawe, yea have a first-rate example of deductive reasoning, so I propose that we advance steadily, and look for a cl.u.s.ter of palms. If, happily, their shade is not taken up by other wanderers, you will be out of the sun long before the caravan arrives. What say you?"

"Some day I shall stamp my foot and say 'No'--shriek it at you, in fact. I hate any one who is always right, and you seem to be utterly different since we left the _Aphrodite_. I have never seen such a change in a man. One would think you were born in the desert. And you are learning Arabic ten times more quickly than I."

"I do not find favor in your eyes this morning, though it is good to know that I have reformed, since, by your own showing, I must have been always wrong aboard ship," said d.i.c.k, remounting.

"Oh, it is a perfect luxury to have some one to pitch into," cried the girl, stirring the Somali with her heel.

"But won't you tell me what I have done that vexes you, Miss Fenshawe?"

"You are absurd. You pretend that you see nothing, whereas I am sure you see more than I, but you refuse to speak."

Royson seemed to be singularly unaffected by this outburst. He caught the angry flush on the girl's forehead, and, as was his way when the stubborn fit seized him, threw his head back, with lips set. Irene stole a look at him, and laughed constrainedly.

"Very well. If you won't talk I must," she said with a great air of determination. "It is about Mrs. Haxton."

"A most interesting topic," said Royson.

"That is what my grandfather seems to think."

"He told me last night that he considers her a singularly well-informed woman."

"For well-informed read artful," exclaimed the girl bitterly. "Have you forgotten what I said to you in the ca.n.a.l? When we began our voyage Mrs. Haxton and the Baron were as good as engaged. Now they have reached some agreement which permits Mrs. Haxton to fly for higher matrimonial game than a penniless adventurer."

"Do you really think that?"

Royson had grown suddenly serious. He half turned in the saddle so as to seek the added inspiration of Irene's expression, but she kept her eyes studiously averted, and the broad-brimmed pith hat she wore helped to conceal her face. But she answered readily.

"I am quite certain of it. How else could I discuss it with you?"

"The view I take is that she merely wishes to give von Kerber every chance. So long as Mr. Fenshawe remains interested--beguiled, if you like--she switches his thoughts away from the object of our journey.

Your grandfather is a masterful man, Miss Fenshawe. If he suspected that we were following a wild-goose chase he would turn south again this very hour."

"Yet I am sure of my ground," she persisted.

Royson's horse started and shied. A small brown snake, coiled up in the sunlight, and almost invisible amidst the stones, squirmed rapidly into a crevice beneath a rock. Such incidents in the desert were too frequent to demand comment. d.i.c.k patted the Arab's neck and soon soothed him.

"Failing our discovery of this fabled treasure, I can appreciate Mrs.

Haxton's willingness to many a millionaire," he went on. "Yet there are difficulties in the way. That viper reminds me of one. Would not von Kerber object?"