He bowed to them both in his hideous hood, and went back to his scowling guards.
The Emir's dying wife lay very quietly in Sallie's arms for some time after he had gone. She was quite exhausted again. Her women, in a group at a little distance, were watching with jealous eyes the fair stranger who had supplanted them with such ease. The only sounds that broke the silence were the sick girl's laboured breathing, the occasional hoarse, angry rumble of Captain Dove's voice outside. Sallie was listening anxiously for that. She could hear no word of what he said, but--she wanted to be quite sure that he was still there. It was not her own fate alone that now depended on what these strangely dragging minutes should bring to pass.
"Lay me back on the cushions now," begged the girl in her arms. "I feel better--in every way. And--tell me how you came here, in the nick of time. I'm so thankful--but you know that, and I mustn't talk too much, I have so little strength left, and--
"It's Captain Dove," Sallie answered in haste. "He brought me here. I must go to him now, but I'll come back before--" She had no time to say more, for Captain Dove had called her again, in a very angry voice.
He was shaking his only available fist impotently at the high heavens when she stepped timidly out from under the curtained porch of the tent.
She hesitated, but for no more than a moment, and then, drawing her veil closer, went on across the sand, with beating heart.
"You called me, Captain Dove?" she said, as she stopped at the old man's shoulder. And he ceased blaspheming to glare round at her as though she had been some intrusive stranger, his face very puffed and repulsive in the red firelight.
He did not answer at once, but reached again for the earthenware flagon. It was lying on its side empty, for she had tipped it over with a stealthy foot.
His angry glance grew darker with suspicion, but her eyes were downcast.
"Come round in front," he ordered harshly, and she had once more to submit herself to the Emir's appraising glance.
He and Captain Dove had still much to say to each other, too, while she stood patiently there, like a slave for sale. They fell to arguing with much heat some point in dispute between them, an argument she could not follow since they were speaking some jargon of Arabic strange to her. But she knew very well that it was about her they were wrangling, and a cold fear clutched cruelly at her heart.