The Sheik

The pace was less killing now. Silver Star had settled down into the

steady tireless gallop for which Ahmed Ben Hassan's horses were famous.

The little breeze had died away as quickly as it had sprung up, and it

was very hot. Diana looked about her with glowing eyes. Everything

seemed different. From the first she had loved the desert, but back of

everything and mingled with everything had been the feeling of fear,

the continual restraint, the perpetual subservience to the whims of her

captor which had dominated everything. But now the whole aspect was

changed. She loved the endless, undulating expanse stretching out

before her, and as the grey topped each rise her interest grew keener.

What might not be behind the next one? For an hour or more the ground

rose and fell in monotonous succession, and then the desert grew level

again and quite suddenly she could see for miles. About two miles away

a few palm trees showed clustering together, and Diana turned in their

direction.

They probably meant a well, and it was time she rested her

horse and herself. It was the tiniest little oasis, and she drew rein

and dismounted with fears for the well she had hoped to find. But there

was one, very much silted up, and she set to work to clear it as well

as she could to procure enough for herself and Silver Star, who was

frantically trying to get to the water. It was exhausting work, but she

managed to satisfy the grey, and, having unloosed his girths, she flung

herself down on the ground in a small patch of shade. She lit a

cigarette and lay flat on her back with her helmet over her eyes.

For the first time since she had shaken off Gaston she began to think

seriously. What she had done was madness. She had no food for herself

or her horse, no water, and Heaven alone knew where the next well might

be. She was alone in an uncivilised country among a savage people with

no protection of any kind. She might fall in with friendly Arabs or she

might not. She might come across an encampment, or she might wander for

days and see no one, in which case death from hunger and thirst stared

her in the face. What would she do when night came? With a sharp cry

she leaped to her feet. What was she to do? She looked all around the

little oasis with startled eyes, at the few palm trees and clumps of

camel thorn, the broken well and the grey horse still snuffing about

its mouth. She felt frightened for the first time; she was alone and

about her was unending space, and she felt an atom, insignificant, the

least of all things. She looked up into the clear sky and the blue

vastness appalled her.