She looked back into the room with a shudder as
her eyes travelled over the luxurious appointments and different
objects that had become so curiously familiar in the last two months.
The unexpected equipments and the man's own baffling personality would
remain in her recollection always as an enigma that she would never be
able to solve. So much had been so inexplicable in himself and in his
mode of life. She drew a long breath and went out hastily into the
sunshine.
The horses were waiting, and Gaston was standing ready to hold her
stirrup. She fondled the beautiful grey horse's soft nose and patted
his satiny neck with a hand that trembled a little. She loved the horse
and to-day he should be the means of saving her. He responded to her
caresses, gentling her with slobbering mouth and whinnying softly. With
one last look at the big double tent and the rest of the camp behind it
she mounted and rode away without another backward glance. She had to
exercise a rigid control over herself. She longed to put Silver Star
into a hand gallop at once and shake off Gaston, but she was still too
near the camp. She must be patient and put a certain number of miles
between herself and the possibility of pursuit before she attempted
anything. Too early an endeavour would only bring the whole horde in
wild chase at her heels. The thought of the promise she had given to
the man from whom she was flying came back to her. She had promised
obedience, but she had not promised that she would not try to escape,
and, if she had, no promise wrung from her by fear was valid in her
opinion.
She rode steadily forward at a slow, swinging canter, instinctively
saving her horse, plan after plan passing through her brain to be
rejected as impracticable. Silver Star fretted continually at the
moderate pace, tossing his head and catching at his bit. She took no
heed of the time beyond the fact that it was passing quickly, and that
if anything was to be done it must be done as soon as possible. But
Gaston, riding a few paces behind her, was very much alive to the hour
and had looked several times at his watch. He ranged alongside of her
now with a murmured apology. "Pardon, Madame. It grows late," and
submitted his wrist watch for her inspection.
Diana glanced mechanically at her own wrist and then remembered that
she had broken her watch the day before. She pulled up, and tilting her
helmet back mopped her hot forehead, and, as she did so, a sharp breeze
sprang up, the curious wind that comes and goes so rapidly in the
desert. An idea flashed into her mind. It was a poor chance, but it
might succeed. She shot a glance at Gaston. He was looking in the
opposite direction, and, raising her hand, she fluttered her
handkerchief a moment in the breeze and then let it go. The wind
carried it some distance away. She gave a little cry and caught at the
bridle of the valet's horse.