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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Garden of Allah"

"
"Why?"
"It is not safe at night in the desert, and besides--"
His horse plunged and nearly rocketed against hers. She pulled in. His
company took away her desire to keep on.
"Besides?"
Leaning over his saddle peak he said, mysteriously:
"Besides, Madame, someone has been following us all the way from
Beni-Mora."
"Who?"
"A horseman. I have heard the beat of the hoofs on the hard road. Once
I stopped and turned, but I could see nothing, and then I could hear
nothing. He, too, had stopped. But when I rode on again soon I heard him
once more. Someone found out we were going and has come after us."
She looked back into the violet night without speaking. She heard no
sound of a horse, saw nothing but the dim track and the faint, shadowy
blackness where the palms began. Then she put her hand into the pocket
of her saddle and silently held up a tiny revolver.
"I know, but there might be more than one. I am not afraid, but if
anything happens to Madame no one will ever take me as a guide any
more."
She smiled for a moment, but the smile died away, and again she looked
into the night.


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