But by degrees as she continued to lie still the pressure on her body
was relieved slightly, and she was able to turn her head a little
towards the air for which she was almost fainting, but not enough to
enable her to see what was passing around her. She drank in the cool
air eagerly. Though she could not see she knew that the night had come,
the night that she had hoped would fall before she reached her
destination, but which now seemed horrible. The fresh strength that the
air gave her fanned the courage that still remained with her.
Collecting all her force she made a sudden desperate spring, trying to
leap clear of the arm that now lay almost loosely about her, her
spurred heels tearing the chestnut's flank until he reared
perpendicularly, snorting and trembling. But with a quick sweep of his
long arm the Arab gathered her back into his hold, still struggling
fiercely. His arms were both round her; he was controlling the maddened
horse only with the pressure of his knees.
"Doucement, doucement." She heard the slow, soft voice indistinctly,
for he was pressing her head again closely to him, and she did not know
if the words were applied to herself or to the horse. She fought to
lift her head, to escape the grip that held her, straining, striving
until he spoke again.
"Lie still, you little fool!" he snarled with sudden vehemence, and
with brutal hands he forced her to obey him, until she wondered if he
would leave a single bone unbroken in her body, till further resistance
was impossible. Gasping for breath she yielded to the strength that
overpowered her, and ceased to struggle. The man seemed to know
intuitively that she was beaten, and turned his undivided attention to
his horse with the same low laugh of amusement that had sent the
strange feeling through her when her shots had missed him. It had
puzzled her then, but it grew now with a horrible intensity, until she
knew that it was fear that had come to her for the first time in her
life--a strange fear that she fought against desperately, but which was
gaining on her with a force that was sapping her strength from her and
making her head reel. She did not faint, but her whole body seemed to
grow nerveless with the sudden realisation of the horror of her
position.
After that Diana lost all sense of time, as she had already lost all
sense of direction. She did not know if it was minutes or hours that
passed as they still galloped swiftly through the night. She did not
know if they were alone or if the band of Arabs to which this man
belonged were riding with them, noiseless over the soft ground. What
had happened to her guide and his men? Had they been butchered and left
where they fell, or were they, too, being hurried unwillingly into some
obscure region of the desert? But for the moment the fate of Mustafa
Ali and his companions did not trouble her very much; they had not
played a very valiant part in the short encounter, and her own
situation swamped her mind to the exclusion of everything else.