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  3. Ambush

  Ali took a single backward step that brought him nearer Ben Akbar. Themove could have been interpreted as a wholly natural desire to find suchcomfort as he might in his camel, the one friend he had or was likely tohave. But Ali's purpose was more practical.

  Unless every imaginable advantage was on his side, the wielder of adagger hadn't the faintest chance of overcoming anyone armed with ascimitar, but Ali intended to concede no point not already andunavoidably given by the difference in weapons. When The Jackal swung,which he would do when he considered the moment right, he would notmiss. But if Ali was agile enough at ducking, and ducked in the rightdirection, it did not necessarily follow that he must be killedoutright.

  For a split second immediately following his blow, The Jackal would beoff guard. Before he recovered, always supposing he was still able tomove, Ali might go forward with his dagger and work some execution, orat least inflict some damage, of his own. All else failing, there wasreason to hope that Ben Akbar would trample his foe after he went down.Ali studied The Jackal.

  Of medium height and probably middle-aged, he was veiled in a certainmystic aura that defied penetration and prevented even a reasonablyaccurate guess as to how many years he had been on earth. He blended ina curious manner with the harsh and wild desert background, as though hehad been a part of it from the beginning. His hair was concealed beneatha hood, but not even a thick beard succeeded in hiding a cruel mouth.His nose was thin and aquiline, with nostrils that seemed forever to bequesting. His eyes were unreadable, but they possessed certain depthsthat combined with a broad sweep of forehead and a vast arrogance ofmanner to mark The Jackal as a man apart.

  Ali remembered the first time he had run across him, or rather, evidenceof his work.

  It was Ali's third year with the caravans, and they were going fromMersin to Erzerum, with seven hundred camels and an assorted load, whenthey overtook all that remained of the caravan preceding them. It hadbeen the entourage of some wealthy Amir, traveling north with his familyand a powerful guard of soldiers. When Ali arrived, The Jackal had beenthere and gone, but he had left his trademark.

  All human males, from babes in the arms of his wives to the gray-beardedAmir himself, lay where they had fallen. The older women and the girlchildren were massacred, too. Only the young girls had been carried awaywith the remainder of the legitimate booty.

  Savagely cruel though it was, the raid was equally audacious. Of themany bandit leaders infesting the caravan routes, few had theimagination to plan a successful attack on a heavily-guarded Amir'scaravan or the courage to proceed, once such an attack was planned.

  Thereafter, at sporadic intervals, Ali found additional evidence thatThe Jackal was still at work, and there could be no mistake about hisidentity. His raids were noted for cruelty and for the fact that henever bothered with any except wealthy caravans. Three years later, Alimet The Jackal.

  The caravan for which Ali was handling camels came to an oasis one dayout of Ankara and found another caravan already encamped. However,there was ample room for both and no apparent reason for either tochallenge the other. Ali took care of the camels for which he wasresponsible, then set about to do something he would have done beforehad an opportunity offered itself.

  He had been in Antioch, temporarily idle, when he happened across ayoungster mishandling some half-broken baggage camels. He had stepped into bring the situation under control. On succeeding, he discovered thatthe young man had disappeared while he was occupied, and an older personwas quietly watching him instead. The older man, whom Ali thought wasthe caravan master, invited him to come along as a camel driver.

  Ali had accepted and discovered, too late, that the imperious youngsterwho'd been mishandling baggage camels was the real caravan master, whichposition he held solely by virtue of the fact that his father was Pashaof Damascus. He didn't like Ali and he missed no opportunity todemonstrate his disapproval. Ali had stayed with the caravan untilreaching this oasis for the simple reason that there was no otherchoice. If he had left sooner, he would have been one lone man in a landnoted for the brief span of life enjoyed by solitary travelers. But hefelt that he could make it from here to Ankara without difficulty andhe'd had more than his fill of the Pasha's son. He went to the caravanmaster's tent to demand his pay.

  He found the youngster engaged in amiable conversation with the man whonow stood before him, The Jackal, who said he was master of the othercaravan. Ali also found that, in the eyes of the Pasha's son, his ownstate was less than exalted. He was ordered out of the tent.

  When Ali refused to leave without first receiving his pay, the youngsterunsheathed a dagger and advanced with the obvious intention of havinghim carried out feet first. Unluckily for the Pasha's son, Ali also hada dagger and his skill with the same exceeded by a comfortable marginany adroitness the other might claim. Ali got his due wages, which hetook from a moneybag, and the Pasha's son had fainted from a series ofdagger wounds in his right arm.

  Ali was on the point of leaving when The Jackal, who had offered not thefaintest interference, rose, complimented him on a superb bit of daggerwork and thanked him for making it easier to sack the caravan. He intendedto do this tomorrow, somewhere between the oasis and Ankara, but thePasha's son had presented an awkward problem. The Jackal, who introducedhimself as such, had no fear of soldiers in reasonable numbers but he wasnot prepared to cope with the armies that must inevitably take the fieldagainst whoever molested a son of the Pasha--this despite the fact thatthe Pasha had no fewer than twenty-nine known sons. The Jackal had beentrying to persuade the young man to leave and go into Ankara when Ali'sdagger had settled the matter in a most satisfactory fashion.

  The Jackal was not ungrateful, and, to prove his gratitude, he wouldarrange for Ali to ride into Ankara with a small group of his own men,who would leave shortly. After they had gone, The Jackal would see to itthat a sufficient number of his own trusty brigands, under such oaths asmight be appropriate, would swear that they had seen the Pasha's sonstruck down by an unknown assailant.

  Ali had ridden and so had escaped the next morning's massacre, whichseveral travelers had reported as taking place after the Pasha's son hadbeen "_killed by an assassin_." Thereafter, he had waited for lightningto strike although he had only injured his attacker in self defense, butso far, it hadn't which meant that The Jackal had kept his lips sealed.Now it no longer mattered. The Jackal would cut his own mother down ifby so doing he served his own ends.

  Suddenly, "Why hesitate, Abdullah?" somebody growled.

  Another man came from the brush to stand beside The Jackal. Then therewas another...and more...until nineteen men were grouped about TheJackal and facing Ali. The Jackal stepped aside. Another took his place.

  Ali glanced briefly at The Jackal. He looked at the others, all goodMoslems and all wearing on their turbans the distinctive emblem thatmarked them as members of the Pasha's crack personal soldiery. Thepresent "Abdullah," the former Jackal, wore the same emblem but, untilnow, it had escaped Ali's notice because, not in his wildest flight ofimagination had he dreamed he'd ever see it on a Druse.

  The soldier who'd spoken and for whom The Jackal had stepped aside,evidently the commander of this patrol, spoke again and directed hiswords to Ali, "Where found you the _dalul_, dog?"

  Ali answered, "I stole him from some Druse."

  The soldier drew his dagger and spoke again, "Die you will, but choosewhether you die swiftly or slowly. Why are you found in possession ofthe finest _dalul_ among two thousand such owned by the Pasha ofDamascus?"

  "I stole him--" Ali began.

  At that moment, out in the thicket, one of the camels being led by thedismounted Druse as they made their way among the trees and brush, choseto grunt. The eyes of every man except the officer turned toward thesound.

  Ali said, "The Druse from whom I stole the _dalul_ are in close pursuit.They are twenty-three in all."

  Except for the officer, who thoughtfully kept the point of his daggerpricking A
li's ribs, the Moslems scattered and, a few seconds later, itwas as though they had never been.

  The officer addressed Ali. "Bid the _dalul_ lie down."

  Ali gave the order and Ben Akbar obeyed. Unconcerned as though therewere no Druse within forty miles, but not forgetting to prick Ali's ribswith his dagger, the officer scorned even to glance in the directionfrom which the Druse approached. Ali wondered. Some Moslems yearned soardently for the life to come that they set not the least value on theone they already had, but the officer seemed more practical-minded.

  "The Druse number a score and three," Ali ventured finally. "They comefrom the direction where the camel grunted and they cannot fail to seeyou should you neglect to hide."

  "I did not ask your opinion," the officer growled. "Be silent!"

  Since the order was emphasized with a sudden jab of the dagger, Aliremained silent. He composed himself. This, as well as everything else,was now in the hands of Allah and He alone would determine the outcome.But it never harmed anything to ponder.

  The rest of the Moslems and The Jackal had disappeared as suddenly andcompletely as morning dew when the sun turns hot. Though they could notbe very far away, neither was the end of the thicket. Once out of thebrush, Ali could mount Ben Akbar and ride. If the pursuit were resumed,and, regardless of who won the forthcoming battle, it would be, it muststill be delayed while the fight was in progress. If Allah would onlysee fit to make the officer take the point of his dagger out of Ali'sribs and go wherever his men had gone, it would be worth Ali's while totry to break away.

  But the officer entertained no ideas about going anywhere or of usinghis dagger for any purpose except to remind Ali how swiftly a painfulsituation could become fatal. Ali looked at Ben Akbar, still lying wherehe had been ordered to lie, but not liking it. Though reclining, he wasanything but relaxed. His head was up, his eyes missed nothing, hisnostrils quested, and tense muscles indicated both a readiness and anability to spring instantly to his feet.

  Ali decided that Ben Akbar did not like these strange Moslems any betterthan he had the Druse who captured him, and that he tolerated them atall only because Ali commanded him to do so. It occurred to Ali thatnone of the Moslems had been eager to venture too near Ben Akbar, and,suddenly, he knew something he hadn't known before.

  Certainly no killer, Ben Akbar was most discriminating when it came to achoice of human companions. Incapable as the Druse of handling himproperly, the Moslems were wisely leaving him alone. The fierce littleofficer never would have told Ali to make Ben Akbar lie down if hethought the _dalul_ would obey him instead.

  That being so, and if Allah smiled and the Moslems won the forthcomingfight, Ali felt that he had some hope of staying alive, at least untilthe soldiers returned to whatever headquarters camp they had left to goout on patrol. It would reflect little credit on any emissary of thePasha of Damascus to bring a favorite _dalul_ before the eyes of hismaster as a raging brute at the end of ropes. If the Moslems could nottake him in except by force, but Ali could, there were reasons tosuppose that Ali would.

  When they appeared on foot, the Druse were led by a sinewy man whoadvanced at a trot, and who, in turn, led a _dalul_. Evidently the sametalented tracker who'd followed Ali's trail while riding full speed, theman strained like a leashed gazelle hound that sights its quarry. Theremaining Druse grouped behind him.

  Ali glanced at the officer.

  That fierce Moslem, who certainly knew the Druse were coming,contemptuously refused even to look around until the leader was withinthirty yards of him. Then, maintaining enough pressure on the dagger toremind Ali that he was not forgotten, he swung and shouted insults.

  "Dogs!" he spat. "Eaters of pork! Spawn of flies that infest camel dung!I have your prisoner and your _dalul_! Come take them if you're men!"

  The leading Druse dropped the reins of his _dalul_, shouted fiercely,drew his sword and rushed. His followers did likewise, and, even thoughsome were delayed by frightened camels that plunged to one side or theother, Ali counted nine sword-waving Druse hard on the heels of theirleader and all too close for comfort. He stole another glance at theofficer.

  Neither taking the dagger from Ali's ribs nor making any move to drawhis sword, he seemed to regard the attacking Druse as he might someparticularly repulsive vermin that might soil his shoes if he stepped onthem. Then it happened.

  From both sides of the trail, where they had concealed themselves assoon as they knew the Druse were coming, Moslem swordsmen rose. Socomplete was the surprise and so overwhelming the shock, half the Drusewere down before the rest even thought of rallying. Ali acknowledged hisapproval--and even some admiration--for an officer who could plan sowell.

  The ambushed Moslems must have seen Ali and Ben Akbar when they were atleast as far off as the Druse had been when they were sighted. They hadmarked the exact route, which made it unnecessary to do any second-guessingabout the Druse. If they were following Ali, they were tracking him. Soan ambush on either side of the track, an officer to act as bait andconvince the Druse that there was only one man and--

  The last Druse went down. The Moslems ranged out to catch the scatteredcamels and bring in any loot that was worth bringing. Some wounded, butall on their feet, they arranged themselves and their booty before theofficer.

  "You fought like old women," he sneered. "It is well that there were noreal warriors to oppose you. But now that we have the _dalul_ we set outto find, we may return."

  "The prisoner?" someone called.

  "He stays." The officer pushed his dagger a quarter inch into Ali'sribs.

  Because it was an ideal time to think of something else, Ali speculatedabout The Jackal. Whatever else he might be, The Jackal was a brave man.What would happen, if he were detected, to a Druse who not only joinedthe _Hadj_ but the Pasha's personal soldiers too, and who was obviouslyrepresenting himself as a Moslem, Ali couldn't even imagine.

  He did know that one false step would be one too many for the deceiver.If The Jackal took that step, he would live a very long while in agonybefore voicing his final shriek. Of course, it was a true Moslem's dutyto tell what he knew, but The Jackal had only to speak and Ali wouldface the torturers with him. Whatever purpose had brought The Jackalhere, he must be playing for tremendous stakes.

  Ali was considerably relieved, but not greatly astonished, when theofficer withdrew his dagger and sheathed it. He addressed Ali as hemight have spoken to a stray cur.

  "On second thought, we will take you to Al Misri, The Egyptian, and lethim kill you. Bring the _dalul_, dog, and, for your own sake, see thatit does not stray."