Page 11 of Burning Sands


  CHAPTER XI--THE OASIS IN THE DESERT

  Upon a day towards the end of November, Daniel Lane was seated upon theclean sand of the outer courtyard of the little mosque which stood atthe southern end of the Oasis of El Hamran. It was the hour of noon, andthe shadow cast by the small, squat minaret behind him extended nofurther than his white canvas shoes, as he leaned his back against theunbaked bricks, and stared before him across the glaring enclosure tothe palm-groves outside the open gateway.

  In spite of the heat of the sun, the blue shadow in which he restedstill afforded a pleasant coolness; and clad in a somewhat frayed tennisshirt, open at the neck, and a pair of well-worn grey flannel trousers,held up by a stout leather belt, his figure gave the appearance of suchcomfort and ease that his lazy reluctance to rise and go home to hismidday meal was understandable.

  Five Bedouin Arabs who had been laughing and talking with him, were nowstanding a few yards distant at the whitewashed door of the mosque, andwere engaged in removing their red shoes before entering the sacredbuilding; while, at the same time, they were conversing together inundertones, as though discussing some matter of importance.

  Daniel sprawled to his feet, and, pulling his hat over his eyes, walkedtowards the whitewashed gateway which gleamed with dazzling brillianceagainst the deep blue of the sky and the green of the palms; but as hemoved away his Bedouin friends hastened to him across the hot sand, andone of the number, the white-bearded Sheikh Ali, the headman of theOasis, laid a hand upon his arm.

  "My friend," he faltered, speaking in the liquid-sounding Arabic of thewestern desert, "there is something I would say to you." He seemed tohesitate.

  "He is wise who listens to the wise," Daniel replied, taking hold of theSheikh's hand, in the native manner of friends.

  The old man smiled. "The Prophet has written: 'Seek wisdom even if itwere only to be found in China'," he said.

  Daniel looked into the kindly and, indeed, saintly face with perplexity.He was wondering what was to come; and, raising his arms, he clasped histwo hands at the back of his neck, an attitude he was wont to assumewhen he was puzzled.

  The four others, who had been hovering shyly at a little distance, cameforward; and the Sheikh, as though emboldened by their support, baredhis heart without much further preamble. He pointed out, as Daniel wellknew, that there was a feud of many years standing in the Oasis, betweenthe family of the speaker and that of a former Sheikh who had beendispossessed of his office. The quarrel had become almost traditional;and though, up till now, no very serious incident had occurred, therewas a growing danger that a brawl might take place in which somebodymight be shot, and that thus the feud might become an endless vendettawith its reciprocal crimes of violence.

  Stripped of its pious and flowery decorations, the proposition putforward by the Sheikh was of the simplest character. He proposed thatthe Englishman should act as judge and mediator between the twofamilies, and should hold a court at which the whole trouble should beventilated; and so insistent was he that Daniel was obliged toacquiesce.

  "Praise be to God!" exclaimed the old man, when at length he hadreceived the definite answer he desired; and with many piousejaculations of gratitude he and his friends turned to enter the mosque,while Daniel passed out through the gateway into the rustling palm-grovebeyond.

  His way led him for four or five hundred yards through the shade of thethickly growing trees--a dusty shade, pierced by innumerable littleshafts of sunlight; but presently he came out once more under thedazzling sky, and, bearing off to the left, mounted a rugged path whichascended the sloping side of a sandy hill, till, reaching the summit, itpassed over level ground towards his house which stood upon a spur ofrock overlooking the Oasis.

  Two years ago, when he had come to reside at El Hamran to make, for theInstitute which had commissioned him, a study of the manners and customsof the Bedouin, he had here found the abandoned ruins of an ancientCoptic monastery, dating from the days when Christianity was still thereligion of the Egyptians; and he had established himself in theirshelter, and later had rebuilt some of the rooms, so that now his placeof abode had come to be a much-loved desert home, where month aftermonth was passed in quiet study, and the days slipped by in placidcontentment.

  From the windows of his rooms he could look down over the whole extentof the dreamy little Oasis, with its sun-baked palm-groves, some threemiles in length and half a mile in breadth, its houses and tents, itsdozen wells, its few acres of tilled ground, and its miniature mosque.All these lay in a kind of basin, surrounded by the cliffs and low hillsof the vast desert; and from his vantage-point he could look over theswaying green sea of the massed palm-tops to the barren plateau aroundabout, and on a clear day he could just discern, far away to the east,the first of the ranges of the hills which rose between his isolatedhome and the far-off valley of the Nile.

  At the ruined gateway of his dwelling he was met by his three yellowdogs who had been with him since they were puppies, and were fairlywell-mannered considering their low pariah breed; and while he wasplaying with them, his servant, Hussein, came out to tell him that hisluncheon was served. Therewith he crossed the courtyard of the oldmonastery, with its shattered row of cells to right and left, and itsstill lofty walls of unbaked bricks, and entered the large refectorywhich he had caused to be roofed over with palm-beams and driedcornstalks spread in a loose thatch, and which now served as a kind ofentrance hall to his apartments. Upon its plastered walls some of theancient frescoes were still visible; and here and there a Copticinscription in dim red paint recorded the names of pious sentiments oflong forgotten monks; while over the ruined doorway there was anindistinct figure of St. Michael, the patron saint of the place, whosepale eyes and smudged lips seemed to look down on him with faded andvacant mirth.

  A rebuilt doorway in the right-hand wall led into his whitewashed livingroom, at the northeast end of which two large casements framed thesplendid view over the Oasis and the desert.

  In a corner of the room, on a small table, a simple but not uninvitingmeal was spread upon a spotless tablecloth. Fresh poultry and eggs werealways plentiful in the Oasis; and on the store-room shelves there was alarge and varied supply of preserved foods, and even delicacies, whichhad been brought over some months ago in a train of camels from Cairo.

  Daniel sat down to his meal with good appetite; and as he munched hisfood in silence his gaze travelled round the airy room and brought backto his heart a glow of pleasant contentment. After all, what could theoutside world give him in exchange for the peace and comfort of hisdesert home? Here he had the intellectual companionship of his books andhis work, the simple friendship of courteous, good-hearted men, who hadcome to regard him as a kind of teacher, and the devotion of threewell-meaning, if somewhat degenerate, yellow dogs. Here the brilliantsun, and the splendid north wind, which blew continuously from thedistant Mediterranean across the great intervening spaces of cleandesert, brought vigour and health to his body and a kind of laughingenthusiasm to his brain. Here he could amuse himself by long ramblingwalks in the freedom of the empty desert, or, with his gun, could makeexciting expeditions in search of gazelle. Here, on the flat roof at thetop of one of the ancient towers of the monastery, he slept each nightunder the blazing stars, lying in his comfortable camp-bed, breathingthe purest air in all the world, and gazing up into the vault of theheavens, till the calm sleep of a child descended upon him. And herefrom golden sunrise to golden sunset the days slipped by, each broughtto perfection by that greatest of all human blessings, an untroubledmind.

  He rose from the table, and, lighting his pipe, sank luxuriously into adeck-chair, a book of the poems of Hafiz in his hand, a cup of Turkishcoffee by his side, his feet resting crossed upon a wooden stool, andthe cry of the hawks and the drone of the bees making music in his ears.

  The barking of the dogs outside, followed by a knock at the door,aroused him; and his servant entered the room. "Sir," he said, "asoldier of the Frontier Patrol has ridden in from El Homra, bringing ale
tter for your Excellency."

  Daniel threw down his book, and, making a broad gesture with his hands,looked up at the smiling Hussein with a frowning pretence of anger.

  "Curses upon his father!" he thundered. "Will his confounded mastersnever leave me in peace? Bring him in to me."

  A few moments later a smart, khaki-clad negro was shown into the room,who saluted in military fashion, and produced a sealed envelope from thebreast pocket of his tunic.

  Daniel saw at a glance that the letter was from Lord Blair, as he hadexpected. He opened it with misgiving, and read it through without anyapparent change of expression, though it was noticeable that the pipe inhis mouth was allowed to go out. Then he slowly folded the sheets, and,thrusting them into his pocket, rose from his chair.

  "I cannot give you my answer until tomorrow morning," he said to themessenger. "Go now and look after your camel, while Hussein preparesfood for you; and in the morning you may carry back my reply."

  As soon as he was alone once more, he pulled the letter from his pocket,and spreading it out upon the window-sill, stood bending over it, withwrinkled brows and brooding eyes, his elbows resting upon the sill andhis head in his hands.

  MY DEAR DANIEL,

  You will be surprised to hear from me again so soon, and you will, I dare say, think me something of a nuisance. I am sorry to say that a sad calamity has befallen us. Poor young Rupert Helsingham was accidentally drowned in the Nile not many days after you returned to the desert; and we have all been very much cut up, especially my daughter, Muriel, in whose presence the tragedy occurred. You will recollect that Helsingham held the position here of Oriental Secretary; and it now falls to me to fill the vacancy. I have therefore decided greatly to extend the functions of the post and to offer it to you; and I shall esteem myself fortunate if you decide to accept it. As I am very anxious to increase by every means the respect in which the holder of the position should be held by the native population, I would propose to recommend you to His Majesty's Government for early elevation to Knighthood, an honour which your scholarly attainments and your services to the Residency fully deserve. I trust, my dear Daniel, that you will give me the reply that I desire; and I am sure you will know what a personal pleasure it will be both to me and to my daughter to have you at the Residency.

  Yours very sincerely,

  BLAIR.

  After reading through the letter two or three times, he stood for someminutes staring before him with unseeing eyes. His first impulse hadbeen to reject the invitation on the instant, for he detestedofficialdom and all its ways; and the thought of connecting himself withthe social life of the Residency was horrifying. But now, against hisinclinations, he obliged himself to consider the proposition with anopen mind.

  To some extent it might be said that his work in the Oasis was finished:his notebooks contained an enormous mass of information. Yet he was lothto consider that his task was accomplished. El Hamran and itsinhabitants, and especially the saintly and benevolent Sheikh Ali, hadbecome very dear to him; and the detachment from the world made anappeal to his nature which was very strong. His occasional journeys toCairo were always disturbing to the peace of his mind; and how thencould he expect to be happy in close daily contact with all thatproduced unrest?

  There was this girl Muriel Blair, who, against his reason, had made somesort of impression upon him which was hard to eradicate. He had triedhis best, even to the point of rudeness, to ignore her; and yet he hadfound himself interested in her welfare, and, on his return journey tothe Oasis, he had given more thought to her than he supposed shedeserved. And now he had to confess that Lord Blair's reference to herin his letter had aroused the response it was intended to arouse.

  During the whole afternoon he turned the matter over in his mind, and atsunset he went out for a rambling walk into the desert behind his house;nor did he return until his mind was made up.

  As he entered his gateway in the gathering darkness, he was met by theSheikh, who had come to discuss further the subject which he had openedthat morning.

  Daniel led him into his lamp-lit sitting-room, and bade him be seated;but when the old man began to discuss the merits of his case and thoseof his enemy, his host held up his hand.

  "I would first ask your advice upon my own affairs," he said. "My heartis sad tonight, my father."

  "Let me share your sorrow," the Sheikh replied, with simple sincerity.

  "My father," said Daniel, "you have told me that long years ago youresided for some years in Cairo and other great cities."

  The Sheikh nodded his head. "It is so," he replied.

  "Were you happy there?"

  "My son, I was young."

  "I mean," said Daniel, "do you believe that happiness is to be found incities?"

  The old man raised his hand and moved it from side to side. "No," heanswered, "not happiness--only pleasure. Why do you ask?"

  "Because I received a letter today...."

  "I saw the messenger," said the Sheikh.

  "I have been offered a position of some importance in Cairo. My friendswant me to leave El Hamran, and to live in Egypt."

  Sheikh Ali uttered an exclamation of distress. "What is your reply?" heasked.

  "Advise me, my father," Daniel answered.

  The Sheikh leant forward and silently examined his red leather shoes.For some moments no word was spoken. At length he looked up, and hishand stroked his white beard. "What use is it for me to advise you?" hesaid. "Your decision is already made. You will leave us; but it is notthe glory of office which attracts you, nor yet the call of your dutywhich bids you depart."

  "What then is it?" Daniel asked.

  "My friend," he answered, after a pause, "no son of Adam, havingstrength and vitality such as yours, and enjoying the springtime oflife, can remain a _dervish_, an ascetic. It is true that you carelittle for the world, that you do not desire fine clothes, nor wealth,nor possessions. Yet you are man, and man looks for his mate. You go tochoose for yourself a wife."

  Daniel smiled. "You are mistaken," he answered. "I shall not marry forsome years to come."

  The Sheikh shook his head. "No man knows the secrets of his own heart,"he replied, "yet his friend may read them like a book written in a fairhand. I say again, you go to choose for yourself a wife."

  The ready denial was checked upon Daniel's lips. For a moment he paused,and it seemed to him that a sidelight had been flashed upon the workingsof his brain: then he dismissed the thought as being something verynearly fantastic.

  "No," he said, "I am going because I believe it to be my duty. Mycountry needs me."

  The Sheikh made a gesture which seemed to indicate the uselessness ofargument. "It is not good for a man to live alone," he answered, with asigh. "Some day, perhaps, you will return to us, bringing with you yourwife."

  Daniel smiled again, but there was sadness in his face. "El Hamran is mywife," he said. "When I go, my heart will remain here."

  "When will your Excellency leave?" the Sheikh asked, becoming suddenly aman of action.

  "In a few days" the other answered; "as soon as this matter of feud isset to rights." And therewith he turned the conversation into thatchannel.

  In the night as he lay upon his bed upon the tower-top, gazing up intothe immensity of the heavens, he repeated to himself, almost withderision, the words of the Sheikh: "You go to choose for yourself awife." It was absurd, and yet somehow the thought made a way for itselfamongst the crowded places of his mind. To choose for himself a wife...!

  "Good Lord!" he muttered; "what a horrible idea!"

 
Arthur E. P. Brome Weigall's Novels