Foster James H.
Captured by the Arabs

CHAPTER XXV
Going for Help

WHEN Bob reached the ground, he was sore from numerous bruises, but to his great joy his legs and arms responded to his efforts to move them.

He glanced up the side of the peak, but the darkness veiled his vision.

“Wonder what became of the old flashlight?” he mused, feeling about on the soft ground.

Finally his hand came upon something hard, and a thrill of delight ran through him as he realized that he had found the electric torch. But his heart sank as he saw that it had been damaged by the fall.

“Lens wasn’t broken, though,” he observed. “Must be the bulb.”

Without the light there was no way of knowing how far he had fallen. But he readily guessed that it was not over eight or nine feet.

The moon was just beginning to show itself from behind the thin clouds, and it might be possible to travel in its light. Whether to do so or not, Bob could not easily decide. He knew that Fekmah would be extremely worried if no one returned to camp that night, but he doubted if he could keep awake long enough to direct his dromedary over the right way. He finally made up his mind to stretch out beside the mountain and surrender himself over to sleep.

“I hate to treat Fekmah that way, but I don’t believe I could make it back,” the youth thought, closing his eyes.

A second later he fell asleep, not to awaken until the sun was well up in the sky.

“Eight o’clock!” he cried, looking at his watch. “By George! I bet Fekmah is throwing a dozen fits.”

Bob at once jumped up and untied his dromedary. He was on the animal in a moment and rode back toward camp.

“I hope I know the way,” he thought, as he was carried to the spot where his father, Mr. Lewis, and Tishmak had been captured.

But the youth had carefully observed the landmarks as they left camp on the search, and had no difficulty in recognizing the way.

First, however, Bob had made a small sketch map of the distant cave in which his father and friend were being held captive. He was positive he could locate it, perhaps without the use of the map.

Bob was now passing up the path that Tishmak had believed made by Tuaregs. For a good distance it would be necessary to follow this lane; then he would turn off on a level stretch.

Suddenly, as Bob made a sharp bend in the path, his jaw fell in surprise and horror.

Not twenty feet away sat a native, a Tuareg, with his back against a low rock. The man was terror-stricken as he watched a long reptile move toward him with a slow, terrible fascination.

That the man knew not what to do, Bob rightly guessed. If he should make the slightest move, the reptile, a deadly horned viper, would strike.

“It’s up to me to come to his rescue,” thought Bob, and, raising his rifle, he took steady aim.

The report of the gun was followed by a terrible twitching of the snake. Meanwhile the Tuareg had jumped in surprise at the sound of the gun and was now looking at his benefactor thankfully.

Bob rode on up to the man and dismounted, to be met by the Tuareg. The latter was of unusual height, towering several inches above Bob, who was himself six feet.

The man quite promptly threw his arms around Bob and hugged him, too thankful for words that he had escaped a terrible death. It was rather embarrassing for the young American, but he smiled modestly and passed the thanks aside as best he could.

Finally the Tuareg stood away and motioned for Bob to follow him up the path. The youth did as directed, even though he was anxious about getting back to camp.

As Bob followed his newly made friend up the lane, he took note of the man’s dress. He was garbed in a loose black robe, which reached almost to his feet. On his chest were numerous decorations that distinguished him as a man of some importance among his people. What seemed most unusual was a black veil that covered his face, leaving little more than his eyes visible. On his head was a strange high cap of black and white.

“Quite a specimen,” thought Bob. “And evidently a chief or nobleman.”

Ten minutes of walking brought them to the top of the hill. Then, as they moved around a large rock, Bob caught sight of several tents placed about a hundred yards apart on a vast plain.

Several natives came running out, followed by a score more. They rushed forward as they caught sight of Bob and his friend.

The latter at once spoke excitedly to his fellow people, and Bob rightly guessed that he was telling of being saved from the snake by the white youth.

When the man had finished, the Tuaregs looked at Bob with gratitude and admiration. They asked him by signs to come into their tent village, and he did so.

“Wish I could speak some of their language,” he thought, as he was being shown the various things about the tents.

It now became apparent that the man whom Bob had saved from death was the chieftain of the tribe, as he was held in high esteem by all. And no one else wore such decorations as did he.

Suddenly a thought struck Bob, and he smiled in renewed hope. Perhaps it would be possible to engage the aid of these Tuaregs in rescuing his friends from the Arabs. Could it be worked?

Bob was now extremely anxious to get back to camp, for he knew that Dr. Kirshner had prepared a paper with many Tuareg words on it for reference. The youth would get that paper and then come back and ask for help in rescuing his father and the others. Perhaps they would be willing to give aid.

As best he could, Bob told the Tuaregs by signs that he must be leaving, and it was evident that they understood. With a last farewell, the youth turned his dromedary away.

His hopes were high as he rapidly covered ground toward camp. Before coming across these Tuaregs, Bob was in doubt as to whether he could tackle so many of the Arabs alone in order to rescue his father and friends. Now, with the prospects of getting aid from the Tuaregs, the future looked brighter.

“Still they might not be willing to help,” he thought. “But at least I can ask them.”

After winding in and out among the huge rocks and peaks for well over an hour, Bob turned his camel up a little hill and came in sight of camp.

How good it looked! Since his friends had been captured by the Arabs, the youth had had an uneasy feeling that perhaps he could not find his way back.

“Where’s Fekmah, I wonder,” he mused, looking about.

A moment later the Arab came running up, delighted beyond words at again seeing him alive and well.

“What kept you away so long?” Fekmah asked. “And where are the others?”

Bob’s face darkened. He told of his father, Mr. Lewis, and Tishmak being captured by the Arabs, and of his own good fortune in getting away.

“But,” he said, “I have a plan to bring about their rescue.”

“What is it?” Fekmah waited breathlessly.

“On the way back to camp this morning, I came upon some Tuaregs who live in a tent village several miles from here. They were very friendly and wanted me to stay longer, but I told them I had to get back.

“Now Dr. Kirshner has a paper with a good many Tuareg words on it. I remember hearing him tell about it several days ago. If we can find that, everything will probably be all right. We’ll take it with us to their village and ask them in their own language to help us. How does it sound?”

“Very good,” Fekmah returned. “But do you think they will?”

“Won’t do any harm to find out,” Bob said, going in the tent.

Dr. Kirshner’s large satchel was on a box, and the young man at once took it down and searched its contents for the paper of Tuareg words. His nerves were on edge with a terrible fear that perhaps it would not be there.

Papers and books and pamphlets were all taken out and hastily read. Scarcely would the youth glance at one sheet when he would pick up another. Under ordinary circumstances, Dr. Kirshner would not have permitted anyone to go through his belongings, but now it was a case of necessity.

Suddenly Bob straightened up in great relief. He had at last found the object of his search.

“Here it is,” he said to Fekmah, who was standing beside him. “A translation of about three hundred Tuareg words. Now I guess we’ll fool those Arab crooks.”

Bob had had nothing to eat that morning, and he was very hungry. He lost no time in preparing a satisfying breakfast. When he had finished eating, he turned to Fekmah.

“Now,” he said, “I’m going to that Tuareg village and ask for aid in rescuing Dad and the others. You had better stay here with the camels and supplies, hadn’t you? It would probably mean tragedy for us if anything should happen to them.”

“Yes,” the Arab returned, “I will stay. And I not afraid that you will fail.”

“I’ll try not to,” Bob said, getting on his dromedary.

With a warm farewell the youth rode off at a rapid pace. His mind was desperately set upon a purpose. He would rescue his father and friends if he had to do it himself.

The Tuareg village was several miles away, but his fleet-footed camel covered the distance in no time.

“Here’s where I get busy with this new dialect,” Bob thought, getting out the paper of native words.

A score or more Tuaregs came running up, led by the chieftain, whom Bob had saved from death previously. The people shouted sincere welcomes.

Bob glanced down at the paper and found a few words for casual conversation. They were not difficult to pronounce, and the effect upon the natives was astounding. They were indeed surprised to find that this white youth could speak any of their language.

But before long Bob got to the purpose. There was one word that stood out in his mind more prominently than any of the others. It was reeskra (help).

As best he could, the young American picked out several words and put them in sentences. He outlined briefly and simply that his father and friends were being held captives in a cave not a great distance away. If the Tuaregs would give aid, they would be rewarded. Would they help?

The result of his request was instantaneous. The Tuareg men, nearly all six-footers, waved their guns in the air and commanded Bob to lead them to the cave where the whites were being guarded.

A thrill of joy ran through Bob’s veins, and he ordered his dromedary to move forward. At last his father and friends would be released.

CHAPTER XXVI
To the Rescue

FOR a distance of several hundred yards the country remained comparatively level, although dotted with huge rocks. Then mountains loomed up before them, and they found it necessary to travel slower.

Bob was followed by about fifteen Tuareg warriors, all magnificent specimens of “desert knights.” Each man was armed with a rifle which, although inferior to Bob’s high-velocity type, could do much damage.

Bob was almost certain he could find the way without the small sketch map he had made from the top of the tall peak the night before. But he had the map in his pocket and intended to consult it if necessary.

Breathlessly he led the way through the rough country and at last came to the spot where his father and friends had been captured by the Arabs.

From then on, finding the way would be easy, the youth thought, for he had only to move toward an odd formation of twin peaks that loomed up above the other mountains in the distance. The cave in which those captured were probably being held was along the side of those tall double peaks.

To make sure of this, Bob got out the map and scrutinized it closely. Then, satisfied that he was right, he dashed forward, the Tuaregs at his heels.

The way now led up the side of a large hill. There was a break just to one side of the path, and the rescuers could look down to the foot of a deep gorge. Bob kept his dromedary as far away from the brink as possible, to do away with the grim possibility of the ground giving way from under his camel’s feet.

Finally, after trudging over a high plateau, they began climbing the base of the twin peaks. At first the ascent was very gradual, but in a short time the path curved upward around the side of the mountain.

“Getting there, all right,” observed Bob, as he noticed that they were now several hundred feet above the plateau.

At last they came to the top of a wide ledge, from which they could look out over scores of miles of rugged country. As the shelf began to narrow, Bob called a halt.

He took out the paper of native words and told the Tuaregs that they were now near the cave in which were his father and friends. It would only be necessary to round a corner before coming to its entrance.

But first he divided the group of natives into two sections. One, under the command of the chieftain, was to move on around the ledge to the cave from the west. The other, led by himself, would climb the steep side of the mountain and walk on above to the other side of the cavern. Then they would meet at the entrance and surround the Arabs and release the prisoners.

When Bob gave the word, the Tuaregs swung into action. Those in his group followed him up the cliff to the brink, while the men under the chieftain began moving around the ledge.

It was a dangerous climb up the steep side of the mountain, but at last Bob pulled himself up to another ledge about fifty feet above the lower one. Then he led the way several rods along its surface. When he thought they had passed beyond the entrance to the cave, he led the descent to the lower shelf.

A moment later he saw that he had miscalculated. He had not gone far enough beyond the cavern to escape the wary eyes of the Arabs who were stationed as guards.

“Caught!” he exclaimed. “Caught square!”

Four Arabs were sitting out in front, and they were on their feet instantly as their eyes fell on Bob. The latter was no more than twenty-five feet away from them, much nearer than he had expected to be.

The Arabs’ rifles were standing against the wall of rock near the cave. But before the men could get to them, Bob rushed forward. With a wild shout he kicked the rifles away and dashed into the cavern.

Startled exclamations – exclamations of joy, surprise, happiness – came to the youth’s ears, and he realized that he had at last found his father, Joe, and the others.

“Bob! You here!” cried Mr. Holton in wild excitement.

“You old rascal! I knew you’d get us out!” came from Dr. Kirshner.

But there was no time for that. Danger was at hand.

“Quick!” he commanded. “Hide. Here, take my rifle, somebody. I’ll use my pistol. There’s no time to lose!”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the four Arabs darted inside the cave and made for the captives and their new enemy. They would not be beaten so easily!

With a terrific crack to the chin, Bob sent the foremost Arab to the ground. The other three men were making for the prisoners in the back of the cave.

Mr. Holton had taken Bob’s rifle and was by the youth’s side looking for other Arabs.

Suddenly Bob noticed that the man whom he had knocked down was getting to his feet and making for the rifles not far away.

Without hesitating a moment, the youth dashed out of the cave and directed a stinging blow to the Arab’s nose. The latter staggered a moment at the edge of the cliff, and then, to the horror of the two Americans, fell backwards over the cliff.

Bob gave a cry of regret. Despite the fact that the Arab was an enemy, the young man did not wish to send him to his death.

Mr. Holton had also been touched deeply.

“You – you shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered. “But – it couldn’t have been helped.”

Now a chorus of shouts and yells rent the air, and the Tuaregs rushed into the cave. To the surprise and relief of the Americans, they had captured the two thieves who stole Fekmah’s map. Where had they found them?

Mr. Holton, Dr. Kirshner, and the other former prisoners were taken aback at sight of the natives. At first they thought them other enemies. Bob soon gave an explanation.

The thieves were searched for Fekmah’s map, but the latter was not found.

Meanwhile a struggle was taking place at the rear of the cave.

Joe in particular attracted Bob’s attention. The former youth was grappling with a large, powerful fellow, who was vainly trying to choke his young enemy.

“Joe’s sure a fighter,” remarked Bob, as he and his father looked on for a moment.

“We had better help him, though,” Mr. Holton said. “Come on.”

But a second later they saw that this would be unnecessary, for Joe had suddenly jerked away and sent his fist with all force into the Arab’s jaw, knocking him out.

“Great work!” commended Mr. Holton. “That fellow was dangerous.”

The two remaining Arabs saw that they had no chance against so many, and they surrendered without a struggle.

“Now tell us all about it,” urged Dr. Kirshner, speaking to Bob. “We want to know how you managed to engage the aid of these Tuaregs.”

Briefly the youth outlined his adventures since escaping from the Arabs the day before. He told of climbing to the top of the peak, of saving the Tuareg chieftain from death, and of getting the paper of Tuareg words.

“That’s all,” he finished. “Only these natives came up here with me to get you out of the clutches of these Arabs.”

“A wonderful demonstration of ingenuity,” breathed Mr. Lewis. “We expected you all the time. Knew you’d find some way.”

“But our greatest work is yet before us,” Bob said. “We must drive the Arabs from the hidden treasure – if we can locate it.”

“No,” came from Mr. Holton, “we won’t need to do that.”

CHAPTER XXVII
The Hidden Treasure

BOB looked at his father in surprise.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Simply that no one is there to drive away now,” was the reply. “We have captured all of the Arabs – even the two thieves who stole Fekmah’s map. And I might add that we have located the hidden treasure.”

“What! You’ve been there?”

“No, but we’ve seen the cave in which it is. In fact, it is possible to see it from here.”

Mr. Holton took out his binoculars and handed them to his son.

“Look away over there,” the naturalist said, pointing to a distant wall of rock that was many hundred feet high. “That small shelf on the side of the cliff is an opening into the cave in which are the hidden riches.”

Bob scanned the landscape ahead. Then he cried out in surprise and amazement.

“A cave away up in that cliff? Seems impossible. How can you get to it?”

“Must be an entrance on the other side,” Dr. Kirshner replied. “Fekmah’s map no doubt points it out. Whether he remembered to put it on the duplicate after the original was stolen, we have yet to see. Where is he now?”

“Who, Fekmah? I left him at camp this morning.”

“Let’s go there now.”

First, however, Dr. Kirshner engaged in conversation with the Tuaregs in their own language. He told them, among other things, of how grateful he and the other former prisoners were for their help in releasing them from the clutches of the Arabs.

The natives were very courteous and friendly, inviting the archæologist to their village. He returned that he would be delighted to visit them, and concluded by saying that they would be given a reward for their generous services.

“Now let’s get out of here,” he said, turning to his friends. “I’m particularly anxious to get back to camp and see Fekmah. I wonder if any misfortune could have come upon him and our camels.”

The Americans, Tuaregs, and Arab captives left the cave behind and trudged down the mountainside. But before they did so, they carried out the food supply that had been in the cave for the prisoners and their guards. It consisted of simple native food, but was welcomed by the Americans and Tishmak.

“There is much more in the cave where the hidden treasure is,” remarked Joe, as he walked beside his chum, who was leading his camel. “We won’t need to worry about not having enough to eat for many weeks.”

“Doubt if we’ll stay here that much longer,” Bob said. “But I imagine it’ll come in handy all right.”

The Arabs were ordered to walk in front of the Americans and Tishmak. The Tuaregs rode on to their village, after asking their newly made friends to visit them the next morning.

It required several hours for the explorers and their captives to get back to camp, going on foot as they did. But when they finally came within sight of the tent and camels, all gave sighs of relief.

Fekmah came running out to meet them, his face showing an intense thankfulness at again seeing his American friends and Tishmak alive and apparently none the worse for their experience.

“So Bob got you from Arab demons,” he muttered and then added: “I knew he would do it.”

Nothing would satisfy him but a complete detailed account of their experiences, and it was Mr. Lewis who related all of the happenings since they had last left camp.

“Howard [Mr. Holton] and Tishmak and I were sure greatly relieved when our captors took us to the cave where Joe and Dr. Kirshner were being held,” Mr. Lewis finished. “Funny, but we had not dreamed of them being prisoners.”

“And I see you’ve brought the rascals with you,” observed Fekmah. “What are we going to do with them?”

“I’m sure we’ve all been thinking about that,” Dr. Kirshner returned. “There are no police so far south as this, and we can’t very well take them with us back to Wargla. I wonder how it would be to take them to an oasis fifty miles or so from here and leave them? There would be no danger of them starving, because dates and water would furnish food. And they couldn’t get away without camels.”

“Sounds all right,” Mr. Holton said. “Do you know where there is such an oasis?”

“No, but I’m sure our Tuareg friends do. I’ll ask them in the morning. Until then we’ll have to keep our eyes on these Arabs. It might be well to tie them up.”

This was thought good advice, and the captives were bound together so tightly that they could not escape.

The remainder of that day passed idly, and the explorers retired shortly after the evening meal.

“But we must be up early in the morning,” Mr. Holton told them. “We have a big day before us.”

They all slept the sleep of exhaustion and did not awaken as early as they had intended.

Breakfast over, Dr. Kirshner and Bob got on their camels and started for the Tuareg village. The others put in a request to go also, but the archæologist stoutly refused, saying that no time must be wasted.

“We only want to make arrangements to take these Arab crooks to an oasis and leave them,” he said. “If more of you go, it will necessarily keep us longer.”

It did not take the two long to get to the natives’ village. The chieftain at once came out to meet the newcomers, and Bob introduced Dr. Kirshner to them.

After a few casual remarks the scientist got to the point. He told the natives of his desire to banish the Arabs to an oasis, if any were near. He also asked if enough camels could be borrowed to take the crooks there.

The chieftain at once replied that he knew of an oasis a half-day’s journey from the village, and that he would gladly let them have the camels.

“Fine!” Dr. Kirshner said in the native tongue. “We’ll go there at once.”

The chieftain insisted upon leading them to the oasis, for, he said, they could not find it alone.

Dr. Kirshner consented, and the head native at once herded enough camels to take the prisoners away. Then the Americans and the Tuareg chieftain started for the explorers’ camp to get the Arabs.

“Be glad when this job’s over,” remarked Bob, as they rode toward camp. “I’m anxious to see the hidden treasure.”

They arrived at camp and placed each Arab on a dromedary. After preparing a lunch to last them until they would return, Dr. Kirshner, Bob, and the Tuareg chieftain began the journey to the oasis, riding behind the prisoners and guarding them closely.

The oasis was about forty miles away, situated on a barren sand plain surrounded by mountains. The Tuareg explained that there was no other well near and that the prisoners would be forced to stay there for an indefinite period, for no caravans passed along that way.

In order to get to the place it was necessary to go through the mountains, and traveling was not any too easy. But they rode with a determination and finally arrived at the oasis.

The Arabs were commanded to dismount and walk forward. Then, after filling their canteens with water, the Americans and the Tuaregs started the return journey, herding the dromedaries ahead of them.

“Now that that’s over, maybe we can rest easy,” said Dr. Kirshner. “Those Arabs can’t get away because of not having camels, and the monotony will punish them greatly.”

Bob, the scientist, and the Tuareg made good time that afternoon, arriving at the explorers’ camp just before sundown. The chieftain lost no time in getting back to his village, after being thanked warmly for his services.

“We’ll see that those Tuaregs get a reward,” said Mr. Holton. “Just as soon as we get to the hidden treasure we’ll give it to them.”

The natives had not been told of the cave of riches, however, for fear that their age-old desire to raid might get the better of them.

Very early the next morning the explorers got their belongings placed on the dromedaries and started out for the cave of treasure. Although it would mean only a few hours’ journey, they were extremely impatient.

“Wonder if those Arabs carried any of the riches away?” asked Bob, as they rode toward the high wall of rock, in the side of which was the cave.

“No,” Mr. Holton returned. “They hadn’t started yet. Were just looking over everything. At least that’s what our guards told us. It seemed that they intended to carry the stuff out in a day or two.”

“Wanted to catalog everything first, huh?” asked Bob. “Well, it’s a good thing we stopped them when we did.”

Fekmah found it necessary to consult his duplicate map very frequently, and he wondered if he had remembered to put in all the details accurately.

Finally, after they had passed the tall wall of rock and were following a narrow trail up the mountain on the opposite side of the cliff, Dr. Kirshner turned to Bob.

“You asked the other day how we were to get into the cave,” he said. “Of course it would be impossible to scale that lofty cliff. Fekmah’s map points out a narrow opening in the rock somewhere in this vicinity, and we ought to find it in a very few minutes now.”

He had scarcely uttered the words when Fekmah cried out in delight and pointed to a peculiar rock formation not far ahead.

“There it is,” he declared joyfully. “There is where we enter mountain to get cave of treasure.”

The explorers, led by Fekmah, moved on up to the spot.

“Here’s an opening!” cried Joe, pointing to a small crack that was barely large enough to let them in.

Getting out their flashlights, they followed Fekmah through the crack and into a narrow tunnel. The air was damp and heavy from the breath of ages, but they trudged on through.

After what seemed like hours, the passageway gradually became lighter, and the explorers found themselves in a large cave.

Suddenly Joe stumbled and fell, unable to catch himself.

“What’s this!” he mumbled.

Then, as his light was turned to the floor, he gave an exclamation of joy.

“The hidden riches!” he said excitedly. “I’ve found them!”