The Hawk of Egypt | Page 6

of either animal, ordered them to remove the dead beast and to strew
the place with sand. And "Irja Sooltan," he called to the stallion, which,
terrified at the sounds and sight and smell of battle, had bolted up a side
street, where he stood fretting and fidgeting himself into a fine sweat,
until he heard the clear call which could always bring him back to the
man he loved. He stood for one second, then flung up his heels to the
devastation of a stall of earthenware, and raced back to the square at a
most unseemly pace, causing the spectators once more to fly in all
directions with cries of "U'a u'a," which means, "Look out, look out!"
He pushed his soft nose with determination against the woman who
stood so close to his master, so that she looked up, and then smiled and
stretched out her arms.
"You beauty!" she cried. "Oh, you beauty!"

"You ride?"
Damaris, thinking of the hack, the only thing with the shape of a horse
she had been able to get so far, and upon the back of which she loathed
to be seen, made a grimace.
"I go out on horseback," she said. "I have not ridden since I left home."
The man's reply, whatever it might have been, was interrupted by
Abdul, who, all smiles, stood before them, with the white pigeon in the
left hand and the shahin upon his right fist.
The native had no intention of causing the white woman pain; in fact,
wishing to find favour in the eyes of the nobles, he only wanted to give
them a chance of witnessing a little of, to him, the finest sport in the
world.
"Look, lady!" he cried.
He tossed the pigeon high into the air, allowed her a little distance, then
threw the hawk.
"No! Oh, no! don't!" cried Damaris, as the hawk rose, "stooped" and
missed the pigeon by a hair's-breadth as it "put in", which means that it
flew straight into a small niche of a minaret for cover.
"Ah!" cried Damaris, and "Bi-sma-llah!" ejaculated Abdul, as he threw
the lure of a dead plover and called his hawk with the luring Eastern
call. "Coo-coo," he called; "coo-coo," to which the hawk responded as
a well-trained shahin should.
Hugh Carden Ali stood with his hand on the stallion's mane, looking up
at the sky, in which shone a great star.
"The hawk of Egypt failed," he said to himself. "Flown at a white bird,
it failed. The House of Allah, who is God, gave sanctuary to the little
white bird. Praise be to Allah who is God."
He looked down at the girl, who was kneeling, consoling the dog, who,

reft 'tween pride and pain, showed a lamentable countenance. Suddenly
she looked up and rose, and stood silently.
"Come," he said simply, while he longed to pick her up and ride with
her to his home in the Oasis. "I will take you to your hotel."
"My car is waiting for me in the Sikket el-Gedideh," she replied.
* * * * *
Later, a vision of loveliness, she walked down the dining-room behind
the Duchess of Longacres, whilst continuous lamentations were wafted
through the spring-doors from the spot where sat a dog with
sticking-plaster across his nose and middle girt with a cummerbund of
pink boracic lint.
Beside the girl's place lay a huge bunch of crimson roses tied with
golden tassels; there was no card, name nor message.
She asked no question, neither did her godmother.
To what purpose should they? The one knew; the other firmly believed
in allowing the young to work out the salvation of their own souls;
which did not, however, mean that she would not keep a sharp look-out
in the future over the troubled sea of Life.
"I knew something would happen," thought the wise old lady, as she
passed a biscuit up to the parrot on her shoulder.
"Kathir Khairak," it said delightedly.
It merely means "thank you," but had taken weeks of teaching and
repeating to master.
CHAPTER III
"Lor! but women's rum cattle to deal with, the first man found that to
his cost; And I reckon it's just through a woman, that the last man on

earth'll be lost."
G. R. SIMS.
Damaris was the only daughter of Squire Hethencourt. Her mother was
an Italian from the Udino, where the hair of the women is genuine
Titian-red and the eyes are blue; which perhaps accounted for her
colouring and some part of her temperament.
Her type of beauty was certainly remarkable--given, it must be
confessed, to a certain amount of fluctuation--and she danced divinely,
which gift must not be counted as a parlour-trick; she was slow in her
movements and quiet in her manner until