The Sheik

The whistle came again, and again, in spite of her relentless spurring,

her horse checked his pace. A sudden inspiration came to her. Perhaps

it was the horse she was riding that was the cause of all the trouble.

It was certainly the Arab's whistle that had made it moderate its

speed; it was responding clearly to a signal that it knew. Her guide's

reluctance to give any particulars of his acquisition of the horse came

back to her. There could not be much doubt about it. The animal had

unquestionably been stolen, and either belonged to or was known to the

party of Arabs who had met them.

The naivete that paraded a stolen horse through the desert at

the risk of meeting its former owner made her smile in spite of her

annoyance, but it was not a pleasant smile, as her thoughts turned from

the horse to its present owner. The sum of Mustafa Ali's delinquencies

was mounting up fast. But it was his affair, not hers. In the meantime

she had paid for the horse to ride through the desert, not to be

waylaid by Arab bandits. Her temper was going fast.

She urged the horse on with all her power, but perceptibly he was

slowing up. She flashed another backward look. The Arab was close

behind her--closer than she had been aware. She had a momentary glimpse

of a big white figure, dark piercing eyes, and white gleaming teeth,

and passionate rage filled her. With no thought of what the

consequences or retaliation might be, with no thought at all beyond a

wild desire to rid herself of her pursuer, driven by a sudden madness

which seemed to rise up in her and which she could not control, she

clutched her revolver and fired twice, full in the face of the man who

was following her. He did not even flinch and a low laugh of amusement

came from him. And at the sound of his laugh Diana's mouth parched

suddenly, and a cold shiver rippled across her spine. A strange feeling

that she had never experienced before went through her. She had missed

again as she had missed this morning. How, she did not know; it was

inexplicable, but it was a fact, and a fact that left her with a

feeling of powerlessness. She dropped the useless revolver, trying

vainly to force her horse's pace, but inch by inch the fiery chestnut

that the Arab was riding crept up nearer alongside. She would not turn

to look again, but glancing sideways she could see its small,

wicked-looking head, with flat laid ears and vicious, bloodshot eyes,

level with her elbow.