The Sheik

It was too near Biskra for any real danger, she argued

with herself, still straining on the reins. She would not admit that

there was any danger, though her heart was beating in a way that it had

never done before. Then as she hauled ineffectually at the bridle with

all her strength there came from behind her the sound of a long, shrill

whistle. Her horse pricked up his ears and she was conscious that his

pace sensibly lessened. Instinctively she looked behind. A solitary

Arab was riding after her and as she looked she realised that his horse

was gaining on hers. The thought drove every idea of stopping her

runaway from her and made her dig her spurs into him instead. There was

a sinister air of deliberation in the way in which the Arab was

following her; he was riding her down.

Diana's mouth closed firmly and a new keenness came into her steady

eyes. It was one thing to go back voluntarily to make terms with the

men who had attacked her party; it was quite another thing to be

deliberately chased across the desert by an Arab freebooter. Her

obstinate chin was almost square. Then the shadow of a laugh flickered

in her eyes and curved her mouth. New experiences were crowding in upon

her to-day. She had often wondered what the feelings of a hunted

creature were. She seemed in a fair way of finding out. She had always

stoutly maintained that the fox enjoyed the run as much as the hounds;

that remained to be proved, but, in any case, she would give this hound

a run for his money. She could ride, and there seemed plenty yet in the

frightened animal under her. She bent down, lying low against his neck

with a little, reckless laugh, coaxing him with all her knowledge and

spurring him alternately. But soon her mood changed. She frowned

anxiously as she looked at the last rays of the setting sun. It would

be dark very soon. She could not go chasing through the night with this

tiresome Arab at her heels. The humour seemed to have died out of the

situation and Diana began to get angry. In the level country that

surrounded her there were no natural features that could afford cover

or aid in any way; there seemed nothing for it but to own herself

defeated and pull up--if she could. An idea of trying to dodge him and

of returning of her own free will was dismissed at once as hopeless.

She had seen enough in her short glimpse of the Arabs' tactics when

they had passed her to know that she was dealing with a finished

horseman on a perfectly trained horse, and that her idea could never

succeed. But, perversely, she felt that to that particular Arab

following her she would never give in. She would ride till she dropped,

or the horse did, before that.