CHAPTER XII--THE HELPMATE
Daniel was drying himself after his bath early next morning when Husseincame to tell him that the soldier of the Frontier Patrol cravedpermission to ask whether the reply was ready, as he was anxious tostart back as early as possible, so as not to delay the messenger whowished to leave for Cairo at noon.
He therefore fastened a towel around his waist, and, striding into theadjoining room, scribbled his answer on a half-sheet of paper.
"Excuse scrawl," he wrote, "but am having my bath, and the messenger,whom I've kept all night, can't wait any longer. All right, I'll turn upwithin a week or so and take on the job you so flatteringly offer. Noknighthood, please. D. L."
He thrust the sheet into an envelope, and with a broad smile addressedit: "The Rt. Hon. The Earl Blair of Hartlestone, G.C.B., G.C.M.G., etc.;His Britannic Majesty's High Commissioner and Minister Plenipotentiary."He felt that, since he was now to be a respectable member of society, heought to accustom himself at once to the world's accepted ways, eventhough they seemed to him to belong to the realm of comic opera.High-sounding titles always made him laugh. He could not explain it: itwas just a clear sense of actuality, a looking at things as they are andnot as ceremony presents them.
Now that his mind was made up, and Lord Blair's invitation accepted, hefelt no longer troubled; and, his reply having been dispatched, he setabout packing his belongings and rounding off his affairs with thegreatest equanimity.
To his great regret, however, he failed to bring the matter of the feudto a successful conclusion. The chief members of the family opposed toSheikh Ali would not be reconciled; and all that Daniel's eloquence andpersuasion could accomplish was an agreement to maintain the _statusquo_ during the Sheikh's lifetime. But as the old man was alreadybending under the weight of years, and as his hopes were concentratedupon the succession of his son, Ibrahim, this compromise was not verysatisfactory.
Daniel's departure was the cause of much regret in the Oasis, for he hadcome to be regarded by the inhabitants as a loyal and helpful friend,one who was full of wisdom and benevolence, and who could doctor boththeir souls and their bodies. But in the case of Sheikh Ali the partingwas the occasion of deep sorrow; and the old man endeavoured on theselast days to pour into his ears all the good advice he could command.
"This is my parting gift," said Daniel to him, when at length the hourof setting out had arrived. "I give you my promise that when you go torest with your fathers, I will support with all my might the candidatureof your son, Ibrahim, for the office of Sheikh."
The old man spread his arms wide. "God be praised!" he cried. "Now _am_I at peace, my dear."
A crowd of natives followed his caravan for some distance, the menfiring their guns in the air and shouting words of encouragement andblessing to him; and when at last the desert hills had swallowed him, hefelt that he had set behind him a phase of his life the happiness ofwhich he could never hope to enjoy again.
The journey was accomplished at a moderate speed, and on the fifthmorning, soon after sunrise, they sighted the Pyramids in the distanceahead of them, backed by the green belt of the Nile valley. The earlysun now struck full in their eyes; and Daniel, turning down the brim ofhis hat, did not often look far in advance of his camel's nose until hewas within some two miles of the Pyramids.
As he jogged along at the head of his caravan, his three yellow dogstrotting after him, his thoughts began to be coloured by a gentleexcitement; and, for the first time, the future seemed to him to hold avariety of interesting possibilities.
After all, he said to himself, a man should rise above his surroundings;and indeed his philosophy would be proved a mere pretence if hishappiness were dependent upon circumstances. Why should he dread therestlessness of Cairene life? If there were to be unease it would arisefrom within, not from without; and the citadel of his soul, of hisindividuality, would hardly be a fortress worth holding if the clamourof the world outside should be able to arouse an answering andtraitorous disturbance within. Even in Cairo he would remain master ofhimself: one can be free anywhere.
"One can be free anywhere" ... Why, those were the words used by MurielBlair when he had first met her; and he had laughed at them. Well,certainly she had not appeared to be very free as she sat there in themoonlight, with the diamonds sparkling around her throat. She did notknow what freedom was: she was a product of the social conventions. Hewondered whether she had taken his advice and had endeavoured to breakloose from them.
He was aroused from his reverie by the sound of horses' hoofs, and,looking up, he saw a man and two women approaching him at a fast trot.Behind them were the Pyramids, and in the far distance the minarets anddomes of the great city rose into the splendour of the sunlight fromabove the opalescent mist of the morning, backed by the shadows of theeastern hills. The air now in the first days of December was cool andsharp; and there was a sparkle in the sunshine which only this time ofday enjoys.
The picture was exquisite, and for a moment his eyes rested upon itentranced. Then he turned his attention to the three figures comingtowards him, and, with sudden excitement, he recognized the foremost ofthe three as Lady Muriel.
She reined in her horse and waved her hand. "I guessed it was you," shecried.
Without waiting for his camel to kneel, Daniel slid from the high saddleand dropped to the ground.
"Why, what are you doing out here at this time of day?" he asked her,as, leading his camel behind him, he hastened to her side and graspedher hand. "I'm mighty glad to see you."
She turned to her companions, Mr. and Mrs. Benifett Bindane, andintroduced them to Daniel. She had been spending the night at Mena HouseHotel, she explained, where the Bindanes were staying, and the freshmorning air having aroused her before sunrise, she had had an earlybreakfast and had come out for a canter over the desert.
"I spotted you a long way off," she said. "I knew you by your hat, if itis a hat." Somehow she did not feel so shy of him as at their meeting atthe Residency.
"I guess I'm going to shock you all in Cairo with that hat," he laughed."It's an old friend, and old friends are best."
"Am I an old friend?" she asked.
"Pretty old," he answered. "I've known you for four years, you mustremember."
She told him that her father was not expecting his arrival for somedays, and that she feared no room had yet been prepared for him.
"But I'm not going to stay in the house," he answered quickly. "Youdidn't think I'd come and live in the town, did you?"
Muriel felt somewhat relieved. Even if the feelings of ease in hissociety which at the moment she was experiencing were to last, she hadno particular wish to have him always about the house, nor present atevery meal.
"Well, where are you going to live?" she asked.
He glanced around him. They were standing upon a level area of hardsand, in the shadow of a spur of rock which formed the head of a lowridge. The broken surface of the desert was spread out to their gaze tonorth, east and west; but the rocks shut off the view towards the south.The caravan had strayed considerably from the beaten track; and the sandhereabouts was smooth and unmarked, except by their own footprints andby those of the desert larks which were now singing high overhead.
"Where am I going to live?" he repeated, suddenly coming to a decision,in his impulsive way. "Why right here where we stand. It shall be myhome: just where I shook hands with you."
Muriel glanced at him, wondering whether his words contained any deepsignificance; but, by his smiling face, she judged that they did not.
He looked about him with interest. "It couldn't be bettered," heexclaimed. "It's a good mile-and-a-half back from the Pyramids, and wellout of the way of people. I'll ride in to Mena House on my camel everymorning, and take the tram into Cairo from there."
Mr. Bindane stared at him open-mouthed.
"Rather far away, isn't it?" he commented. "A bit lonely at nights."
Daniel laughed. "I suppose there's something wrong with me," heanswered
. "I'm always happiest alone."
Kate Bindane picked up her reins. "I think that's the bird, Benifett, mylove," she remarked, "in fact the screeching peacock."
Her husband looked blankly at her.
"'The bird'," Kate explained; "a theatrical term indicating peremptorydismissal."
By this time the train of camels was within fifty yards of them; andDaniel called out to his men to halt. His servant Hussein came forward,and took charge of his camel.
"I'll pitch my camp at once," he said to Muriel. "Then I can go andannounce myself to your father this afternoon."
Acting on an impulse, a desire to establish friendly relations at theoutset, Muriel dismounted from her horse. "Do let me stay and help you,"she suggested.
"Sure," said Daniel. He called to one of his men to hold her horse.
Muriel turned and explained the situation to her friend Kate.
"The man's practically going to live with us," she whispered: "I'dbetter make friends."
"Oh, rot!" said Kate. "He's a picturesque lunatic, and you're a bit madyourself, and it's a lovely day, and you've got nothing to do, and youknow you look a dream in that riding kit." She turned to her husband."Come along, Benifett; her ladyship's going to spend the day with thegent from the Wild West."
Muriel laughed. "I'll ride back to the hotel soon," she said.
"No hurry, old sport," replied Kate; and, after a few polite remarks toDaniel, she and her pliant husband trotted away.
Muriel at once began to survey the surroundings. She clambered up thesand drift to the top of the spur of rock, and there, in the freshmorning breeze, she stood with her hand shading her eyes, gazing overthe undulating spaces of the desert. She felt like a child beginning aholiday at the seaside and investigating the possibilities of the sands.
The brisk morning air, the brilliant sunshine, the blue sky in which afew little puffs of white cloud were floating, the golden desert withits patches of strongly contrasted shadow, the distant green of the Nilevalley, the far-away minarets of the city, the singing of the larks, theexcited barkings of the three dogs, and the shouts of the camel-men:these sights and sounds seemed to be full of vivid life.
The shadow of her recent sorrow was quite removed from her mind; andthough her furious attempts at gaiety of late had been sadlyunsuccessful, this morning she felt that the world still containedwonderful possibilities of adventure, and it must be admitted that herfidelity to the memory of Rupert Helsingham was already indeterminate.
She turned and watched Daniel as he helped in the work of unloading thecamels. He had taken off his coat, and his shirt sleeves were rolledback from his mighty arms. He was wearing a shabby old pair of ridingbreeches and gaiters; and the butt of his heavy revolver protruded fromhis hip pocket. His wide-brimmed hat was pulled over his bronzed face,and his pipe was in his mouth. He appeared to be lifting enormous loadswith incredible ease; and just now he had set all his Bedouin laughingby walking off unceremoniously with a huge bundle of tenting, in theropes of which one of the natives had become entangled, thereby draggingthe astonished man across the sand as a puppy might be dragged at theend of a string.
Presently he came towards her, beckoning to her; and she slid down thesandy slope to meet him.
"Look here," he said, "this'll be a long job. I wish you'd let me sendyour horse away: I'll be wanting the man who's holding him soon."
Muriel felt abashed, and something of her old hostility returned to her.
"I'd better go," she said. "I'm in your way."
"No," he answered quickly "I don't want you to go. I like you to behere--very much indeed."
His obvious sincerity appeased her. He fetched a notebook and pencilfrom the pocket of his coat, and handed them to her.
"I'll send your horse back to the hotel," he said. "Please write a noteto your friends."
"What d'you want me to say?" she asked, taking the writing materialsfrom him, her eyes curiously wide open, and having in them thatcharacteristic expression of assumed and mischievous innocence.
"Say this," he replied, and, with mock obedience, she wrote at hisdictation: "Mr. Lane insists on my working. Please 'phone to my fatherthat he has arrived, and that I will bring him to the Residency for tea.I'll look in at the hotel in the early afternoon."
"Anything else?" she asked with a laugh. "Won't you send a fewdirections to my maid to pack my things, and order a car to take us intoCairo?"
"Yes," he replied, without a smile. "You'd better add that."
As she was writing he turned to the man who was holding her horse, andgave him his instructions; then, having handed him the note, he sent himgalloping off.
"Now what?" asked Muriel. Unaccountably, her heart was beating fast.
"Now take your coat off, and come and help," he said.
For a moment she hesitated, and a sensation very much like fear tookhold of her; but, recollecting that he was nothing more than herfather's new diplomatic Secretary, she gave herself up to the enticementof the free and sparkling desert.
"Come on then," she answered; "let's get at it." And pulling off herlong white linen coat, she tossed it aside, with her gloves and crop,and rolled up the sleeves of her silk shirt.
Daniel looked gravely at her as she stood before him in her well-cutwhite breeches and brown top-boots; and for the first time Muriel couldsee admiration in his eyes. She was feeling reckless, and her boyishcostume did not disconcert her: she was quite aware that her figure hadnothing of that ungainliness about the hips and knees which so oftenmakes the hunting-field a place of mirth.
He wisely offered no comment upon her appearance, much as he liked thegraceful freedom and vigour which it suggested; and together theyhastened over to the camels, Muriel pretending, as they went, to spit onher hands.
For a couple of hours they worked with the Bedouin: erecting the tentsat the foot of the spur of rock; laying down the grass mats over thelevel floors of sand; unpacking the kitchen utensils, the enamel jugsand basins, the plates and dishes; setting up the camp bed andcollapsible tables and chairs; arranging the books in the portablebookcase; and folding up the towels and blankets in the usefulcamel-boxes, or lockers, of which there was a good supply.
Muriel threw herself into the work with energy; and indeed she thoughtit one of the best games she had ever played. She hastened to and fro,laden with pots and pans; she crawled about on her hands and knees,banging away at doubtful pegs, or scooping up the sand around theskirting of the tents; she sorted out and arranged the tins and bottlesof food and drink; and she helped to heap up stones and sand to make asort of kennel for the dogs.
Her labours gave her little time for conversation, and indeed a greatpart of Daniel's remarks had the nature of somewhat peremptory ordersand instructions. When she dropped a glass bottle of jam, and smashedit, he scolded her not altogether in jest; and she was quite relieved tofind that he did not make her lick it up, but, on the contrary, tookcare that she did not cut her fingers. And when she tripped over one ofthe tent-ropes and fell flat on her face he actually tempered hisreproofs with kindly enquiries after her general health, and dusted herdown with the greatest care. Every now and then, however, they had shortopportunities of exchanging their news; and she then gave him a few ofthe less compromising details of the recent tragedy, at which he showedgenuine and undisguised distress. But she had no inclination to cast ashadow on the morning's strenuous enjoyment; and she did not linger onthat sad subject.
"This is just like a game of Indians or something," she said, as she satherself upon a packing case to rest.
"Yes," he answered, looking down at her with amusement. "That's thefunny thing: life is generally lived on such rigid lines that when onecomes down to actuality it seems like pretence."
He opened a tin of biscuits and a bottle of aerated water, and fetched acouple of tin mugs from the kitchen-tent; and, thus refreshed, theycontinued their work until midday.
By this time the camp was spick and span; and the three tents whichserved as dining-room
, bedroom, and study, looked alluringlycomfortable. They were decorated inside in the usual Arab manner, withbold designs and inscriptions cut out in bright coloured cotton-clothstitched to the canvas; and the camp-chairs of green sail-cloth, thegrass matting, and the plain wooden lockers, gave an appearance of cleanand cool comfort which rejoiced Daniel's heart. The kitchen, and thesmaller tent which was to shelter his servant at night, both stoodsomewhat apart, tucked away behind a projecting arm of the rock.
"What are you going to do with your camels and men?" Muriel asked, asshe stood in the sunlight, regarding her handiwork with satisfaction.
"One of the camels belongs to me," he replied, "and its duties will beto take me to and from Mena House every day, and to fetch water from thewell. My servant Hussein is going to remain with me; and hisbrother--the lean fellow with the squint--will look after the camel. Allthe rest of the bunch will be off back to the desert tomorrow morning,the lucky devils."
Muriel looked at him questioningly. "Why 'lucky'?" she asked. "Are yousick of your fellow countrymen already?"
He corrected himself quickly. "No," he said; "I spoke without thought.As a matter of fact, I'm mighty glad to be here, thanks to you."
"O, have I made any difference?" she queried, with an air of innocence.
He put his hands into his pockets, and, sucking at his pipe, regardedher thoughtfully. "Yes," he said at length, "I think you've made all thedifference." And then, as though afraid that his words might be thoughtto bear a romantic interpretation, he added: "You've made the place lookfine."
Hussein now served an excellent little luncheon consisting of particulardelicacies from the store-cupboard, washed down with refreshinglime-juice and soda; and Muriel did full justice to the meal. When shehad devoured everything within sight, like a hungry schoolgirl, sheyawned loudly; and Daniel, without further question, arranged someblankets on the floor at the side of the tent, and covered them with thesheepskin from his saddle.
She stared at him anxiously. "What's that for?" she asked.
"For you to sleep on," he said. "I'm going out to see about the men, andyou'd better take the opportunity for a siesta. You look half asleepalready."
"I think I'd better not," she replied. "We ought to be going soon."
"Do what I tell you," he commanded, pointing to the sheepskin; and,being indeed sleepy, she obeyed without further argument.
"Comfy?" he asked, as she lay down.
"Gorgeous," she answered drowsily, and shut her eyes. When she openedthem again a few moments later he had already left the tent; and, with asigh of supreme happiness, she settled herself down to her repose.
Half an hour later Daniel looked into the tent and found her fastasleep. She was lying upon her back with her legs crossed, and one armbehind her head; and frankly he admitted to himself that she made a mostdelightful picture.
He went away again, and busied himself for half an hour in changing hisclothes and having something of a wash. He routed out quite arespectable suit of grey flannels, and a white stock for his neck; andthus arrayed, he returned to the sleeper.
She lay now upon her side, her cheek resting on her two hands, her kneesdrawn up; and he confessed to himself that she looked adorable. He didnot take his eyes from her for a full minute.
He went out for a walk, and surveyed with satisfaction the positionwhich he had chosen for his camp; and it was half past three when hereturned once more to Muriel.
This time she was lying on her back, with one knee raised, one armacross her breast, and the other flung out upon the floor. He sathimself down in the entrance of the tent, and lit his pipe. He did notlook at her; for suddenly some door in his heart had opened, revealing avista of thought which was new to him. The girl upon the sheepskin wasno longer merely a charming picture: she was a woman sleeping in histent after her labours in the camp. She was his companion, his mate,tired out with helping him. She was Eve, and he was Adam: and lo!--thedesert was become the Garden of Paradise.
He got up from his chair with a start, and uttered an exclamation ofdismay. His thoughts were riotous, mutinous, foolish: he had no businessto think of her like that. He knew nothing about her--nothing, exceptthat she did not belong truly to his system of life. Her little show ofvigorous, outdoor activity was a pretence on her part, a mereexperiment, a new experience filling an idle day. She was not a child ofthe open desert: she was a daughter of that busy, dressed up, paintedold harlot, the World. Presently she would go back to her stuffy roomsand trim gardens, her dinner-parties and balls, her diamonds and frocksand frills, her conventions and mockeries of life.
_A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY--BURNING SANDS_]
When he turned to her again she had opened her eyes, and was looking athim in dazed wonderment. She sat up with a start, and the colour flushedinto her face. Then she threw her head back and laughed happily.
"It's nothing to laugh about," he said, gloomily. "It's nearlytea-time."
She jumped to her feet, and began arranging her hair, which was fallingdown. "Why didn't you wake me, man?" she asked.
"I was too busy," he replied.
He spoke roughly, and she thought he was angry with her. "I slept like alog," she said. "I'm so sorry."
"It's no good being sorry," he exclaimed. "The mischief's done."
"What d'you mean?" she asked, perplexed.
He did not answer. "I'll go and get the camels," he said. "Ever ridden acamel?"
She shook her head.
"Well, that'll wake you up all right," he laughed, and therewith leftthe tent.
She thought him very ungracious, after all the work she had done forhim. "I suppose he wanted me to clean his boots," she muttered.