The Sheik

It was hard work sometimes, and there were days when he dreaded the

daily rides, when the strain seemed almost more than he could bear, and

he began to make tentative suggestions about resuming his wanderings,

but always the Sheik pressed him to stay.

Ahmed Ben Hassan's final recovery was quick, and the camp soon settled

down into normal conditions. The reinforcements were gone back to the

different camps from which they had been drawn. There was no further

need of them. Ibraheim Omair's tribe, with their leader dead, had

broken up and scattered far to the south; there was no chief to keep

them together and no headman strong enough to draw them round a new

chieftain, for Ibraheim had allowed no member of his tribe to attain

any degree of wealth or power that might prove him a rival; so they had

split up into numerous small bands lacking cohesion. In fulfilling the

vow made to his predecessor Ahmed Ben Hassan had cleared the desert of

a menace that had hung over it for many years.

The relations between the Sheik and Saint Hubert had gone back to what

they had been the night of Raoul's arrival, before his candid criticism

had roused the Sheik's temper and fired his jealousy. The recollection

of the miserable week that had preceded the raid had been wiped out in

all that had followed it. No shadow could ever come between them again

since Raoul had voluntarily stood on one side and sacrificed his own

chance of happiness for his friend's.

And with the Sheik's complete recovery his attitude towards Diana had

reverted to the cold reserve that had chilled her before--a reserve

that was as courteous as it was indifferent. He had avoided her as much

as had been possible, and the continual presence of Saint Hubert had

been a barrier between them. Unostensibly but effectually he had

contrived that Raoul should never leave them alone. Though he included

her in the general conversation he rarely spoke to her directly, and

often she found him looking at her with his fierce eyes filled with an

expression that baffled her, and as each time the quick blood rushed

into her face his forehead drew together in the heavy frown that was so

characteristic. During meals it was Raoul that kept the conversation

from lapsing with ready tact and an eloquent flow of words, ranging

over many subjects. In the evening the men became immersed in the

projection of Saint Hubert's new book, for details of which he was

drawing on the Sheik's knowledge, and long after Diana left them she

could hear the two voices, both deep and musical, but Raoul's quicker

and more emphatic, continuously rising and falling, till at last Raoul

would go to his own tent and Gaston would come--noiseless and

soft-toned as his master.