Chapter II (7)

"Impossible? They are not; they shall not be. I am as firm in my resolve as ever. So you thought I had forgotten. Know that I will never rest, until I have been revenged on him. You little guess the stuff that I am made of. You know how I can love; you shall learn how I can hate." The words ended almost in a hiss.

All this was a revelation to St. Just, and, for the moment, he was nonplussed.

"Well," he said weakly, "what do you purpose doing?"

"I have thought it all out. Listen. My father told us just before he died that in this treasure, beside the gold, there is vast wealth in jewels--opals, diamonds, rubies of great size and value; but, for all that, occupying little space.

"Now my plan is this; when we have got the treasure to the camp, you shall take the gold to Cairo to those appointed by my father to receive it. Then, instead of returning to the tribe, make your way to Suez and there await me. I will join you with the jewels, and we will take ship for France."

"A very pretty plan, but you will have to get the jewels first; no easy matter with so many eyes about."

"I'll manage that; trust a woman for hoodwinking those about her."

"But how can I set foot in France? Buonaparte would have me shot as a deserter. But, even supposing my presence were unknown, and I escaped; if we killed Buonaparte, we should pay forfeit with our heads; and then, what would profit us all our wealth?"

"Kill him? That is not my aim. No, I shall wait till his power has become supreme; then I will drag him down."

"Words, idle words, my dear, that can never eventuate in deeds. I doubt not that you have the will, but you almost make me smile. How can you, a mere woman, control the future of such a man?"

"You shall see when his hour has come, mere woman though I am. When he has reached the zenith of his power, he shall be hurled suddenly into ignominy and exile, and eat his heart out in captivity. Then he shall know that I have had a hand in all that has befallen him, and learn the intensity of my hatred."

"And you will help me to be revenged on Buonaparte?" she asked, after a little pause.

"Willingly," he answered earnestly. "He is the cause of all our trouble. To be revenged on him I am prepared to face all risks--yes, even Hell's torments, rather than abate one jot or tittle of his punishment. Are you content?"

A cruel smile of triumph played about her lips.

"I am," she said. "See that you never waver in your resolution. As for my own, it is as fixed and sure as the sun round which we move. It is the very breath of my existence, and will cease only either with my death, or its fulfillment. I have not thought out the details of my plan; there is ample time for that; but, with the wealth at our command, the instruments for retribution will not be hard to find."

"But you are weary, love, and you have much to do to-morrow, and the night is far advanced. Come into my tent, my Henri." She laid her hand on his. "Ah! you are cold," she cried with gentle sympathy. "You shall rest with my arms around you, close to my heart, and I will give you warmth, and lull you off to sleep."

He made no demur, and she led him to her tent.

Thus was the oath to be revenged on Buonaparte re-sworn. At that moment he was preparing, away in France, to take up the reins of government as First Consul, and, could he have heard them, would have laughed to scorn the threats of Halima and her husband.

*CHAPTER XXI.*

At daybreak the camp was all astir. Fires were replenished for the preparation of the morning meal, which some attended to, while others were told off to feed the camels. Then all breakfasted, and the final arrangements for the day's proceedings were completed.

When they were on the point of starting, much to St. Just's annoyance and regret, Halima came up ready dressed to join the party.

"My dear," he said, "you surely cannot think of going with us."

"Naturally," she replied simply.

"But it is impossible," he rejoined. "You have no conception of the roughness of the road; we have to burrow underground, and the way is full of danger. No woman could face it."

"If there is danger, the greater the reason that I should go with you. I will not run the risk of being left alone to face the world. If aught befall you, it shall strike me too."

"But," he urged, "where a man would run but little risk, a woman would run much. Besides, the care of you would impede our movements."

"I care not; I mean to go with you. Come, we are wasting time."

He saw she was immovable, and he sighed.

"Be it so," he said, and, without further words, they started.

On their way to the entrance of the subterranean passage, they had to pass the lake. To their surprise, they found that more than half of it had disappeared. The shallower portion of what had been the lake, consisted now of dried up mud, intersected with deep fissures, with here and there a shallow pool. Only at the end nearest the high rocks, beneath which lay the buried city, was the water deep, and black as night.

While St. Just was gazing at it, Mahmoud came up behind him and touched him on the arm.

"Look, master; look what I have found," he said, when St. Just turned round; and he handed him a little slab about one inch square and a quarter of an inch in thickness. In color it was of a dull reddish yellow, and on one side of it could be discerned the indistinct figure of a cat. St. Just carefully examined it, and weighed it in his hand. Then he took out his dagger and scratched the surface. It was soft; it was pure gold!

"Where did you find this?" he inquired.

Meanwhile, some of the others had come up and were gazing enviously at what was in his hand.

"In the grass, close to this hole," replied the boy, his brown face wreathed in smiles, though he had not the least notion of the value of his find; but he saw, by his master's face, that St. Just was pleased.

"Look about, some of you, and see whether you can find more," St. Just went on.

A careful search was made, but no more gold pieces were forthcoming. Evidently this was a stray one dropped either in the hiding, or removing of the treasure.

"Here, sweetheart," he said, handing it to Halima; "take this as a keepsake; it is the first fruits of our expedition."

"I will have a brooch made of it," she said.

Having seen all there was to see about the lake, they retraced their steps to where the camels were tethered. Here St. Just gave final directions to those who were to remain behind, and then the party of treasure seekers made their way to the entrance of the passage leading to the buried city, all carrying torches.

One by one they disappeared within the entrance, each man lighting his torch inside from the one preceding him, until all were within the opening. Then they proceeded cautiously down the easy descent the passage took, until they reached the point at which the real danger began; and here their leader called a halt.

Mindful, from the experience of his previous journey, of the shoot down which one had to slide--an easy task, when one was aware of it, for a man, but hazardous for a woman--he adopted special precautions for securing Halima from accident.

What he did was this--and it was only his knowledge of the length of the shoot that made it possible--he sent one man down to the bottom of the slope with a lighted torch. Arrived there, he was to lie at full length on his back close against the side of the tunnel. Then another man was to follow in the same way, setting his feet on the shoulders of the one below; and so on, until the entire length of the steep incline was occupied. By this means the whole stretch was lighted most effectively, and a passage was left at the side of the men, down which Halima could travel; in case her progress should become dangerously rapid, the men could check it. Then he tied a rope round Halima's waist, and she began the descent feet foremost on her hands and knees, he standing at the top and paying out the rope as needed. In two minutes she had reached the bottom. Then he followed, and the torch-bearers after him, beginning from the topmost man.

In due course, they reached the roadway that gave on to the ruined city, and here they halted for a moment to view the wondrous scene, which many of them now saw for the first time. Halima's eyes sparkled with excitement; she seemed enraptured.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "It is like being transported to another world. I could not have imagined such a scene; never again will my eyes rest on such a sight. Oh! I would not have missed it for all the world. And to think that you would have deprived me of it, Henri."

She seemed loth to leave it, but stood turning her eyes from one point to another, without further comment. Presently St. Just recalled her to their errand.

"It is indeed a wondrous sight," he said, "but we must not dally here; we can admire it further, when we have done our work."

"You are right," she said: "let us go on."

St. Just gave the order, and the whole party made a sharp turn to the left, along the pathway to the temple, which lay not many yards away. What had been once a noble doorway was now a yawning gap, and through this they passed, to find themselves in a gigantic hall, down which ran two long rows of pillars, which served to support the roof, the span of the building being such as to require them. In the semi-darkness it was impossible to see whether the roof still stood. Between the pillars there were marble statues which, considering their antiquity, were marvelously well preserved--sufficiently so, at any rate, to show that those who had produced them were no uncivilized barbarians, but men who had a thorough knowledge of the sculptor's art.

In the center of the building a much larger statue reared itself. The figure was at least twenty feet in height, and was placed on a pedestal ten feet high, the whole resting on a flight of half a dozen steps that faced four ways. The figure represented a man perfectly proportioned and of majestic mien. It wore a crown and was draped in flowing robes; the right arm was raised and bore a sword. Doubtless, the statue was the counterfeit presentment of the god to whom the temple had been dedicated.

At the foot of this statue they found the object of their search. Around its base were piled, one upon another, strong wooden boxes bound with iron. They were oblong, eighteen inches by twelve, and about nine inches deep. St. Just counted them; there were forty-eight. Then he raised the end of one of them to judge its weight; it took more strength than he had thought. From the size of the boxes and their weight, their contents must be gold--about two hundred-weight in each, as he supposed. He made a mental calculation. Then he turned to Halima and said in French: "Gold. If they are all alike, there is the value here of about fifteen million francs."

"So much as that," she said. "It seems an immense sum. But think you the jewels are packed with the gold?"

"Most likely not; we will make a further search before we go."

Meanwhile, the restless Mahmoud, who had been peering about, called out:

"This box not full; lid cracked. Little yellow bricks, like that I found, inside."

St. Just looked and found the boy was right; the box held layers of little golden slabs.

Now that St. Just was advised roughly of the amount of treasure--the weight and number of the boxes--he had to consider the mode for its removal; he saw, at once, that he had not provided means for its transport in one journey to the camp; the camels they had brought with them could not possibly carry it all. The first thing, however, was to get it above ground, and the chief difficulty would arise in the passage with the sharp ascent.

Only half the party was underground, the rest remaining with the camels at their temporary encampment. St. Just divided his men into gangs of three, of which one would carry a torch and two a box, one at each end. There were eight of these gangs, so that, to move all the treasure, each would have to make six journeys. Their leader's intention was to have all the boxes deposited at the foot of the steep incline, before attempting to haul any of them up.

The orders given, the men began the work, the eight parties filing out of the temple, each preceded by its torch-bearer. They set off at a fair pace, but quickly slackened, and their progress became momentarily slower, as their burdens seemed to increase in weight. Two hundred-weight, borne as this had to be, is no mean load, and frequent rests were necessary; so that it took quite half an hour to do the distance there and back. Thus it would occupy three hours, merely to move the treasure to the slope. When the men returned from their first journey, they showed the stress of their exertions in their perspiring faces and still rapid breathing.

In due course, all the boxes were transported to the bottom of the slope. While this work had been in progress, St. Just had not been idle. They had provided themselves with a good supply of rope, and, with this, he had slings knotted together, in which the boxes could be slipped readily and hauled up the incline. Thus there was no loss of time, and, when all the treasure had been stacked hard by the shoot, the work of haulage was begun. Four men, by St. Just's direction, scrambled up, taking the end of a strong rope with them. Then the boxes one by one, were hitched to the middle of the cable and drawn up, the latter being pulled back, after each box had been released, by the end that remained with those below. When the boxes should have been all dragged up the slope, the rest would be comparatively easy, for the further route to the open air was both short and almost level, rising so gradually as to present no difficulties. Before this was begun, however, all the treasure was to be collected at the upper end of the shoot. St. Just believed in doing work by stages.

He waited long enough to see that his plan was working smoothly, and then, leaving one of the oldest and most respected of the tribe in charge, he and Halima, accompanied by the faithful Mahmoud, made their way back to the temple, to take a last look round. Unless the jewels were packed up with the gold, they had not yet been found, and St. Just was resolved to make a further search for them, free from the eyes of witnesses. As for Mahmoud, his master knew that he was to be trusted to keep inviolate any secret.

When they had again traversed the pathway to the left and had gained the open space before the temple, St. Just, happening to turn his head round to the right, his attention was attracted to the crater of the volcano. Only light smoke had been proceeding from it on their arrival; now sparks were mingled with it, and an occasional tongue of fire shot up; the smoke, too, had become denser and was tinged with red. Also low rumblings could be heard.

"The crater is more active than when we first came," he said. "See those showers of red hot cinders; and can you hear those sounds like distant thunder?"

"Yes, is it not grand?" said Halima. "It is like a huge fountain of golden rain and hail. I can hear the roar too; what force must be embowelled there to cause it; it sounds like fifty blacksmiths' fires all blowing at once. It certainly was not like this before. Think you we are in any danger?"

"I trust not; I think we are too far away. But we will lose no time. Come, Mahmoud, go before us with your torch."

They made their way once more into the temple, and began their search, Halima and St. Just going along by the wall on one side of the building, and Mahmoud taking the other. When they had reached the end, they retraced their steps, taking a course a little further from the walls, and so on, backwards and forwards, and thus gradually approaching the center, having left no portion of the flooring uncovered by their torches, and all the while peering carefully around.

In due course, they met in the center of the building by the huge statue; so far their search had been absolutely fruitless. They gazed in one another's faces somewhat blankly. Then St. Just looked up at the impassive figure.

"Unless that venerable gentleman holds the secret," he said, addressing Halima, "and is prepared to share it with us, I fear we shall have to return, as empty-handed as we came. I will improve my acquaintance with him."

He ran nimbly up the steps and carefully examined the pedestal on which the statue rested. It seemed to be a solid block of stone; certainly the front portion of it was, for, on his kicking it, it gave forth no hollow sound, and no lines were visible on its exterior. He moved round one corner and along the side, minutely inspecting as he went. About three inches from the end there was a vertical line or crack about a foot in length that reached the bottom of the pedestal, and at its upper end terminated in another line at right angles to it, that extended to the corner. He went round to the back and followed this horizontal line for eighteen inches, when, as he had hoped, it was joined by another vertical line, that, like the first, ran down to the pedestal's base. It was a slab of stone, in fact, eighteen inches by twelve, three inches thick. On being struck, it sounded hollow.

"There is a cavity," he cried. "Mahmoud, come here."

Mahmoud ran up the steps, and then St. Just told him to insert his dagger into the lower part of the interstice, whilst he himself took the same course with the upper. When both daggers had got fair hold, the two men prized carefully together, and the stone began to move. Soon they could get their fingers into the opening; then, exerting all their force, they wrenched the slab away and it fell down the steps with a crash that reverberated through the temple, and startled Halima.

"Oh!" she cried unconsciously. Then, "Have you found anything?"

"I shall know presently," St. Just called back.

The stone removed, a cavity was revealed, and in this lay a small square box, apparently of silver, but so dull and tarnished that it was difficult to determine. St. Just seized it, and, in two strides, was at the bottom of the steps.

"I think I've found them," he cried; "see." And he held out the box.

Halima took it. "This is for Buonaparte," she said exultantly. "By the help of these I shall achieve my end. Was there anything more where you found this?"

"Nothing whatever. Now let us go; we have been too long already."

"Here, Mahmoud," said Halima; "carry this for me, and see that you lose it not, as you prize your life. And, further, say not a word concerning it to any one."

"Mahmoud is faithful," the boy replied reproachfully, taking the box from her. He placed it inside his loose garment, next his breast.

"Come, let us join the others,"' said St. Just, "and see what progress they have made."

The words had hardly left his lips when a deep, rumbling sound was heard. It grew louder and louder; there was a resounding blow, and then, with a crash, a large portion of the left wall of the temple fell in, and a volume of water poured in after it.

"Merciful Heavens!" cried Halima, "what has happened?"

"The lake overhead must have burst in," exclaimed St. Just. "We must fly; follow me."

And he made for the upper end of the temple, towards the right hand corner, keeping close to Halima's side and suiting his pace to hers. It would have been useless to attempt to gain the entrance, for the flooring of the temple inclined that way, and all the water was flowing towards it; and, such were its force and volume, that it would have swept them off their feet and carried them over the roadway into the abyss in which stood the ruined city.

They rushed on side by side, without uttering a word. Mahmoud, who had been behind them at the start, soon overtook and headed them.

"Follow me," he cried, in passing; "I know." And he made direct for the far right hand corner, on reaching which, he halted and waited for the others. Now, in the search they had just been making, Mahmoud had taken the right hand side, and he had noticed a narrow doorway at the extreme end. This might afford the means of their escape.

St. Just and Halima came up panting, and the boy pointed out this opening to them. Before examining it, St. Just paused to look around, so far as the light from their torches would permit. The result somewhat reassured him, for, where they were, the floor was dry, and, if the water at all gained on them, its progress was very slow, the great mass of it rushing towards the entrance, where it found an exit. His chief fear was that the latter might not be wide enough, and that the end wall might not be able to withstand the pressure. In such a case the whole temple might come down and, if not crushed to death, they would be entombed alive. On the other hand, should the end wall stand, he hoped that, when the lake should have run dry, they could make their escape by the temple entrance.

"We are safe for the moment," he said. And he put his arm round Halima and drew her to him and kissed her fondly. "My poor darling, how you tremble. Courage, keep up your heart; we shall yet escape."

She clung to him frantically, sobbing and panting for breath.

"Oh! I am so frightened," she gasped; "to have to die so young, and in such a place. Oh! I wish I had not come."

He was too generous to reproach her for not having taken his advice.

"We shall not die, sweetheart," he made answer reassuringly. "Calm yourself; we shall need all our wits. See, the water does not come our way; it all flows out at the other end; when it has subsided, we shall be able to leave the temple. Meanwhile, let us examine this opening in the wall, and see what lies beyond."

His words gave his wife confidence, and gradually she grew calm. He advanced to the opening and, holding his torch well in front of him, he peered about.

"There is a passage," he said, "that leads somewhere; let us explore it while we wait; who knows? we may find further treasure."

So all three entered, and made their way along it; it was about four feet wide and seven high, stone cased and arched--a tunnel in fact--and it inclined gradually upwards.

They had proceeded not more than twenty yards when they were startled by a long rolling crash behind them, that brought them to a standstill.

"Oh! what is that?" cried Halima. "Something very heavy has fallen."

An awful fear crept over St. Just; he guessed just what had happened, but durst not give utterance to his thoughts.

"I will go back and see," he said; "wait here for me."

"Not for worlds," said Halima. "I will not be left for a moment. I will go with you."

So all three retraced their steps together. St. Just's fears were soon confirmed; the entrance to the passage was completely blocked by debris of stone and mortar.

"My God!" he exclaimed, "the whole temple has come down. If we had not sheltered in this passage, we should have been buried in the ruins."

"Better that than to be buried alive," said Halima; "we are hopelessly entrapped; doomed to die of slow starvation."

"God grant us a better fate! This passage must lead somewhere; it rises, and, most likely, will take us above ground. There is no cause for despair. Come."

For his wife's sake, he affected a cheerfulness he was far from feeling, and her spirits rose proportionately.

"I will be brave," she answered, "May Allah save us!"

They turned their backs upon the ruined temple and hurried along the passage, Mahmoud in advance. When they had traversed about three hundred yards, gradually ascending all the while, the passage ended, and they emerged at a point where three roads met. The center one led down hill to the ruined city, for, now that they had left the tunnel, the light from the volcano was sufficient for them to discern it. It was useless, therefore, taking this; the choice lay between the other two, to the right and the left respectively; which were they to follow? Halima gave her decision.

"We'll try the right," she said; "it saved us once, it may again. We will follow our luck."

There seemed some sense in what she said, so St. Just resolved to act upon it. Additionally, so far as he could mentally take bearings, the direction indicated was that in which lay the camp.

"Agreed," he said; "we can but try the other, should this fail to bring us out. Mahmoud, to the right; go on in front, and keep a good look out."

But now that they had left the tunnel, they found the traveling much harder, for the road was rough and strewn with obstacles--great blocks of stone they had to skirt, and smaller ones embedded in the lava, with which the whole way was covered, so that hardly a step could be taken on the level, and they constantly stumbled, and sometimes found themselves full length upon the ground. Occasionally, their path was completely barricaded by a pile of debris, over which they had to scramble as best they could. Spite of all her husband's care, Halima received several serious bruises, her feet especially smarting and aching, so that she could scarce refrain from moaning; for all that, she made no sound, but struggled bravely on.

They were really traversing the upper portion of the ruined city, for they found themselves passing through the courtyards of deserted houses and by the ends of still standing inner walls, on which St. Just noticed, with a curious sense of half awakened interest, wonderfully executed frescoes of battle scenes, and others. In different circumstances he would have stayed his steps to admire and wonder, for in some cases the pictures were in no way marred, and the colors so fresh that they might have been laid on the day before. But their peril was too great to leave room for admiration of passing objects; so they hurried stumbling on.

Suddenly they found their progress barred; a huge wall of rock loomed high before them; the road went no further; unless there should be a way round this new obstacle, they would have to retrace their steps and try the other road. Seating Halima on a fallen stone--she was now too tired to object to being left while the others searched about--St. Just made his way in one direction along the face of rock, and sent Mahmoud in the other, to see whether a passage could be found.

Presently the boy cried out, "Way here, Master." And almost immediately, St. Just was at his side. An opening had been cut within the rock, and thence, leading downwards was a flight of steps; but the treads were so slippery and uneven from their lava coating, that to descend them would be perilous, though, St. Just thought, possible with care. Should they slip, they might slide down into an almost fathomless abyss. For all that, he resolved to try it; indeed there seemed to be no alternative.

And now something else both puzzled and alarmed him; the air was perceptibly warmer than when they had left the temple, and every moment it grew hotter; he feared the volcano's energy was increasing. Had they escaped entombment in the temple, only to be burnt to death? The thought was maddening; he said nothing of it to his companion, and together they rejoined Halima. He told her of their discovery, and they lost no time in beginning their descent. It was performed in this wise. St. Just seated himself on the top step and then gradually worked himself, with his hands and feet, on to the next; Halima followed behind him in the same position, and Mahmoud came last, propelling himself in like fashion. Thus, in case Halima should slip, her motion would be checked by her husband's body.

Save for a few slight cuts and bruises, they reached the bottom of the flight of steps in safety--there were eighteen in all--and found themselves in a road that crossed the point at which the steps gave on it. This time they chose the left, and traveled on. The air was almost stifling and choked with dust, so that they had difficulty in breathing; but still they dragged on their weary steps in silence, Halima now leaning on her husband's arm.

After proceeding thus for half an hour, the air ever getting hotter, and at the same time lighter, they reached an open space; and here they paused to look about them. Their torches were now of little use; the flames from the volcano lighted up the scene all round. Close on their left was a huge ruined building, that St. Just decided had been the palace of some great one. To the right, at what, in the half-smothered glare, seemed a considerable distance, the crater was belching out flames and smoke and red hot cinders, accompanied by cracklings and roarings and rumblings that were terrible to hear; whilst broad streams of white-hot, boiling lava were pouring down on the ruined city away in front, below them, where they lay like sheets of liquid fire; and, with it all, were sulphurous fumes, whose stench was sickening, that caused their eyes and throats to smart and made respiration painful.

Hope almost died within them; in such an atmosphere life could not long hold out.

"Our only chance lies in this large building," said St. Just. "The volcano bars our progress towards the right; the burning city in the front; unless we can find a way out through the building, we are hopelessly cut off."

To penetrate it was easy, for the walls were full of gaps, and they soon found themselves in a large courtyard; this was clear of obstacles and quickly crossed. As good luck would have it, an open gate-way faced them; passing through, they gained a road that rose gradually as far as they could see--evidently the main approach to the building.

Once more their hope revived, and, though faint, their strength all but exhausted, they crawled along this road. It was bordered by banks and rocks; no houses lined its sides; plainly it was a thoroughfare cut in the mountain's face or side, and leading to and from the city. Higher and higher they ascended; and now, for the first time, they could feel a cooler air blowing in their faces; it was but a breath, but it was there, and it added to their hope; this was no sulphur-laden blast--that was now behind them--but an earth-borne breeze.

"We are on the right track; we shall yet escape," cried St. Just, and there was a note almost of exultation in his voice. When one has been within the very jaws of death, even a short respite revives the fainting heart.

Suddenly Halima reeled against him and would have fallen, had he not supported her.

"I can go no farther," she gasped faintly. "Leave me here, Henri, and save yourselves, you and the boy."

"Never," he answered resolutely. "Why, sweetheart, we are saved. Before long, we shall see the sky; we are breathing pure air now."

"It is too late; I am so worn out that I have no life left in me. I care not to live, I am so weary--only to die in peace."

"You shall rest awhile; you may do it safely now; in fact a rest will be of service to us all."

He laid her gently down, and, almost in a moment, she had fallen asleep. Meanwhile St. Just and Mahmoud sat and watched. Sleep would have been everything to them also, but they durst not yield to it. How much further should they have to go, St. Just wondered wearily, before they would be free. He had now every confidence that they would escape, provided that their strength held out; but would it? That depended on the distance they had still to go; and there was Halima.

He let her sleep for about an hour, and then he roused her.

"Oh! let me be," she cried. "I am too weak to move, I was happy; it was cruel of you to disturb me."

"Dearest," he said, "it had to be; but I and Mahmoud will carry you while we can."

They took her up between them and staggered on. Their progress was now slow indeed, and they had to make frequent stoppages to rest. Oh! for a drink of water to moisten their parched tongues and throats! Still onward and upward they stumbled with their almost unconscious burden.

They reached the limit of the road and were there faced by an arched gateway cut in the solid rock. It had been guarded by a pair of bronze gates, one of which still hung on its hinges; the other lay prone before them. The gateway gave on to a tunnel, whose length they could not ascertain, for no light showed through it; it was black as night. They would have to relight their torches; so far, the crater's glare had served them. They put down Halima, and St. Just got out a tinder box and the torches were rekindled. He turned to Halima.

"Can you walk a little, do you think?" he asked. "It will be difficult to carry you with torches in our hand."

He could scarce speak, and felt that to carry her at that moment was beyond him.

"I will try," she said, "if you will each give me an arm."

And thus they crawled along, the tunnel echoing to their footsteps. No one spoke; they were past that. Their road was easier now, for it was on the level; but what they gained in that, was balanced by their failing strength. It bore slightly to the right and seemed interminable, but it was really not a quarter of the length it appeared to them. It was only that they were so worn out. On they staggered, swaying this way and that, and sometimes almost falling, each feeling that, if their journey should not soon end, they must die of sheer exhaustion.

St. Just felt Halima totter. "Bear up," he whispered--he had no voice--"we are nearly through."

But it was useless; she heard him not, but sank fainting to the ground. St. Just signed to Mahmoud, and they raised her and carried her a few yards; then they put her down to rest themselves. Thus they proceeded with many halts for a hundred yards or so. Having to carry their torches, they had but one arm for her.

They were resting, Halima lying on the ground, when suddenly St. Just clutched Mahmoud's arm convulsively and pointed ahead; he was too far gone to speak.

In the far distance was a tiny point of light.

Once more they took up Halima, who was still unconscious, and resumed their way, but now full of hope; and hope lent them strength.

Larger and larger grew the spot of light--not the lurid light from the horrid crater, but the white light of day--so that now they could almost see their way without their torches. Suddenly St. Just's foot struck violently against some obstruction, and all three fell heavily to the ground, the shock, in their then exhausted state, rendering them unconscious.

* * * * *

Mahmoud, perhaps because he was the youngest, was the first to come to himself. He looked around, and was surprised to find he knew the place. It was a cave in which he had more than once sheltered from the storm. The way out possessed no real difficulties, though it was intricate.

Casting a glance at the two prostrate figures, and assuring himself that they still lived, he ran out of the cave; the knowledge that they were saved, and the fresh air, had given him new strength. On he sped, and, after a run of half a mile, he dashed, breathless and almost speechless, into the midst of their own tribe.

"Water!" he panted.

They offered him a pitcher, and he drank till he could hold no more. Then, in a few words, he explained what had occurred, and where St. Just and Halima would be found. The cave was known to many of the tribe, and a rescue party was at once made up.

Halima was some time recovering, but St. Just, except for the cuts and bruises he had received, was soon himself again.

He told Mahmoud, they would never have been saved, but for his assistance, and that he should remember him with gratitude and affection to his dying day. And he did. Between the master and the servant the tie was for the future more like that between two brothers. When they were alone, Mahmoud handed him the silver box, which he had preserved through all their danger.

The boxes that contained the gold were also safe, and had been transported to the camp before St. Just's return.

*CHAPTER XXII.*

The effects of the terrible experience she had undergone were very serious to Halima. She had been carried from the cave to the encampment on a litter, for she had not been able to stand, still less to ride or walk. She lay on a couch and moaned, acutely sensible to pain, yet seemingly unconscious, so great was her prostration. She felt bruised and sore all over, every nerve and muscle overstrained; her body was one huge ache, her joints burned like fire, and she could scarcely have suffered more had she been stretched out on the rack.

Thus she passed the weary night, vainly longing, oh! so earnestly, for the sleep that would have been everything to her, but that her sufferings would not permit; for, with the cessation of exercise, her joints stiffened and the pain increased. In the morning she was in a high fever, and delirious. It was nature's retaliation for the affront that had been put upon her; for no one may insult her with impunity, and she rebels when too much is demanded of her, as when nerves and thews are overstrained and the brain is overwrought.

St. Just, the old nurse and Ben Kerriman, the doctor, stood gravely watching the unconscious girl, who lay staring at them with wide open eyes, eyes in which there was no trace of recognition; and their heart sank within them. The old doctor's knowledge of the healing art was superficial, and he was acquainted only with the simple herbal remedies. These he administered, but with little faith in their efficiency; such hope as he had, lay in the soundness and natural vigor of her constitution, aided by her youth. He gazed upon her sorrowfully, and shook his head doubtfully--almost despairingly. For all that, he was unremitting in his care, and in this he was ably seconded by the old nurse and St. Just. He was resolved that nature should have every chance. For a week she hovered between life and death, on more than one occasion the vital spark flickering so feebly that every moment they thought it would die out. In a week the critical moment that would decide her fate arrived. It passed and she was saved; her strong constitution had gained the mastery of the fever; the temperature of her blood was lowered; the florid color faded from her face; the pulse, that had been rapid and irregular, became calm and measured; a slight moisture broke out upon the hot, parched skin, and consciousness returned. She looked up in the faces of the watchers with a feeble smile, and her lips moved slightly, but no sound escaped them. Then she closed her eyes and dropped off into a calm, refreshing sleep, that lasted many hours.

When she awoke she was able to speak. From that moment she gradually gained strength; nothing now ailed her, but extreme debility, and each day that grew less. Ben Kerriman, in fact, was surprised at her rapid progress towards recovery.

All this time the treasure that had almost cost their lives was kept carefully guarded. It had been stored up in a hut, which had been then banked round and on the top with sand, the door only being exposed. St. Just kept the key of this, and each day he went in to count the boxes and see that they had not been tampered with. Moreover, night and day the hut was always watched by two men--not, of course, always the same--in whom implicit confidence could be placed. All these precautions were scarcely needed, for no member of the tribe would have robbed its chief; but St. Just, realizing that he was but the bailee of this great wealth, was resolved to run no risk.

He had deferred the examination of the silver casket, until his wife should be restored to health, feeling that she would like to be present at its opening; but one day, when she was thoroughly recovered and they were alone together, and likely for some time to be undisturbed, he brought it out. It was soon forced open, and then the sight disclosed to view made Halima's eyes sparkle with delight, and St. Just's to beam with satisfaction. They had expected to find precious stones, but had never dreamed of such as these. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and others whose names they did not know, all flawless, and of the purest water; the diamonds colorless as ice, the others with tints rich and deep. And there were no mean sized stones among them; some as large as pigeon's eggs, others equaling the size of marbles; there were none smaller. They were all unset and badly cut, but the size and quality were there. Little as St. Just knew of the value of such gems, he was satisfied that the contents of that little silver box far out-weighed in worth the treasure stored up in the hut outside.

When the jewels had been duly inspected and admired, it was arranged that Halima should have the charge of them, and, with a view to their safe custody, she said she would sew them into a pad or belt, and wear them under her clothing, until the opportunity should arrive for their disposal.

The subject naturally brought up that of the remainder of the treasure. Now that his anxiety on the score of his wife's health was over, St. Just was desirous of relieving himself of his responsibility as soon as possible. Having no immediate personal interest in the money, its custody had become an incubus he would fain shake off. Accordingly, he now suggested that a messenger should be at once despatched to Cairo with a letter to the persons mentioned by the late sheik, informing them of the existence of the gold and of the old man's wishes in regard to it, and inquiring whether, and by what route it would be safe for him, St. Just, to bring it.

Halima wished the matter to be put oft for a time; said the treasure was quite safe where it was, that the country was so unsettled that its transport would be hazardous, that the withdrawal of so many men as would be necessary for the convoy would leave her insufficiently protected; and advanced a number of other reasons more or less plausible, for postponing action for the present. Summed up, they simply meant that she wished to keep her husband with her.

He combated her objections one by one, showing that she made too much of them; then he dwelt on his own uneasiness at having the charge of so much wealth, and on his pledged word to the old sheik; appealing, finally, to her filial affection and her duty to her father.

This last was his most mighty argument, and it prevailed with the result that she agreed that a messenger should be sent to Cairo with all speed.

Now this decision was a most untoward one, as events will show. Had St. Just at once set out with the treasure, without previously communicating with the men in Cairo, the current of his life would have flowed in a very different channel from that it took.

It may be remembered that when St. Just rejoined the tribe with Halima, shortly before the old sheik's death, his wife's old nurse regarded him with great repugnance; though why, unless it was for his nationality, he could not understand. At first he had hoped that her undoubted love and fidelity towards his wife, whose affection for himself the old woman must have seen was strong and deep, would have wrought some change in her feelings towards him--and he, on his part, albeit by no means sympathetic towards her, had done his utmost to capture her goodwill. So far from that, however, her aversion for him seemed daily to increase, and, after Halima's illness, attained to such a pitch of hatred that, if she could have slain him with impunity, she would have done so. It was not that she indulged in any overt acts of insolence or disobedience; but the looks of diabolical malignancy she flung at him as often as she met his eyes, sufficiently revealed her sentiments.

And the cause was this; she, of course, had been Halima's chief attendant in her illness, and, during her ramblings, her young mistress had disclosed the fact of her betrayal and, in consequence, her deep sense of injury and desire for vengeance; but with no mention of the name of her seducer.

The nurse being unaware that Halima knew Buonaparte, thereupon jumped to the conclusion that St. Just was the man who had robbed her former nurseling of her virtue, having assailed her in a moment when she was off her guard; that the intimacy once begun, Halima had been unable to free herself from her relations with her betrayer, and had thus lapsed to the position of his mistress, a toy he could discard when weary of it. The statement that they were really married with Mahometan rites the old woman regarded as a mere blind to cover Halima's dishonor. The thought worked her into a state of rage and hatred that was uncontrollable, and she resolved to punish the unsuspecting Frenchman, if by any means it could be done.

The course of events now seemed to have brought about her opportunity. The existence of the treasure was known throughout the camp, and it was rumored that it was to be sent to Cairo. When, therefore, the old woman heard that a messenger was to be despatched thither, she guessed what was his errand and laid her plans accordingly. Everything seemed to favor them, for the man selected for the mission was one of those most devoted to the late sheik's nephew, Yusuf, and withal one who deeply resented St. Just's position in the tribe. Naturally, St. Just was not aware of this, or another man would have been chosen. Yusuf had always been a favorite with the nurse; she had been present at his birth and had seen him grow to manhood, and had looked forward to seeing him eventually assume the headship of the tribe; thus his banishment by the old sheik had sorely troubled her. She now saw a chance of his reinstatement.

There were those in Cairo who would know his whereabouts. Accordingly, she sought the messenger who was to go to Cairo and who, it happened, was akin to her, and could be trusted not to betray her confidence, and instructed him to seek out Yusuf, and, should he find him, to tell him of the coming treasure; that, if he could collect a sufficient force and keep a good look out, he would be able to intercept it, and at the same time kill St. Just, who would be with it. That accomplished, there would be nothing to prevent his taking the leadership of the tribe, and making Halima his wife, should he desire it.

Should St. Just's messenger be unable to get speech of Yusuf, he was to forward her instructions to him by some one he could trust. The old woman was satisfied that, if Yusuf lived, he could be found, for many knew him; he had held an important position in the tribe and had many influential friends in Cairo.

She had no doubt that Yusuf would act upon her information, should it arrive in time; her only fear was that it might not reach him until St. Just should have advanced so far on his journey with the treasure, as to preclude Yusuf from making his arrangements for attacking him. However, that, as she piously observed, would be as Allah willed.

In due course, St. Just's messenger returned with letters from his Cairo correspondents. They had expressed delight at hearing of the treasure, and requested him to bring it on at once.

It was now February in the year 1800, and nothing stood in the way of St. Just's making an immediate start. To tell the truth, he was becoming somewhat wearied with desert life, and ready to welcome almost anything that would vary its monotony. So he set about at once to make his preparations. They were simple, including only a sufficiency of camels to transport the treasure, the devising of a ready mode of securing it on their backs, and the selection of the men to tend them; also supplies for the men's consumption by the way. The camels would need no food, for they would be required only to take the treasure to the river bank. St. Just had decided to make the whole journey by the Nile. It would take somewhat longer than by the desert route, but he preferred it as being less tedious and much more interesting. His point of debarkation would be a village five days' journey from Cairo; St. Just had halted there before, and was acquainted with a sheik who was friendly to the tribe and would, he hoped, supply him with camels for the remaining portion of the route.

It was agreed between himself and Halima--for she held firmly to her resolution to proceed to France--that, when he should have transacted the business connected with the treasure, he should write to her, by the returning party, stating where he would await her. Having regard to the condition of the country and the risk he ran of recognition, both felt that, at this stage, no definite fixture for their meeting could be made.

When everything was ready and the moment of departure had arrived, Halima, who thought she had schooled herself to the separation, broke down altogether. She threw her arms about his neck and clung to him with desperation, almost devouring him with kisses.

"Oh! Henri," she sobbed, "I would you were not leaving me, my husband. Oh! I cannot let you go. Stay, my dear one, and let Abdallah take this treasure; he is to be trusted and will see that it be handed over safely. I am sure you need not go. Oh! would we had never seen this cursed gold!"

"Nay, my Halima," he replied sadly, and he stroked the silky head that lay against his breast; "go I must; I pledged my word to your dead father. It is hard enough, God knows, to part from you; don't make it harder for me by your tears. But our parting will not be for long, and, when we meet again, it will be for life. Before six months are passed, we shall be on our way to France."