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Updated: June 16, 2025
And when? It was a thousand years ago, when those damned Wandis swallowed up the Zambas. They took me first by treachery. Then they wiped out the entire tribe. The poor devils were lost without me. I always knew they would be but they made a gallant fight for it."
How he died and exactly when, I do not know; but I have certified the fact of his death beyond all question. He died at the hands of the Wandis, when his own men, the Zambas, were defeated. So much I heard from the Wandi Mullah himself, and more than that I cannot tell you. My dear, that is the end of your romance, and I know that you will never weave another.
But the man's heart of him was alive again and beating strongly. He was ready to sell his life as dearly as he might. He looked round for the native who had brought him thither, but it seemed to him that he was alone, shut away by a frowning pile of rock from the great amphitheatre in which the Wandis were celebrating their return from the slaughter of their enemies.
Certainly the Englishman was mad, but he had a sporting fancy for mad Englishmen, a fancy that kept his pouch well filled. He had not the smallest intention of letting this one out of his sight. "We will go together, effendi," he said. "The price shall not be named between us until we return in peace. But the effendi will need a disguise. The Wandis have no love for the English."
"As a slave!" Herne said. "It is possible, effendi." The Arab considered a moment. Then, "The road to the country of the Wandis is no journey for effendis," he said. "The path is hard to find, and there is no water. Also, the bush is thick, and there are many savages. But beyond all are the mountains where the Wandis dwell.
"Three years ago, before the Wandis conquered the Zambas, there was a white man, an Englishman, who placed himself at their head, and taught them to fight. I am here to seek him. I shall not leave without news of him." "The Englishman is dead!" It was as if a mummy uttered the words. The speaker neither stirred nor looked at Herne. He seemed to be gazing into space.
He saw only his Arab guide bending before him in humble salutation, while in his heart he heard a girl's voice, low and piteous, "Bobby is still alive and wanting me." "Well, Hassan?" he questioned. "Any news?" The man's eyes gleamed with a certain triumph. "There is news, effendi. The man the effendi seeks is no longer chief of the Zambas. They have been swallowed up by the Wandis."
"Now was there made, fast by the tower's wall, A garden faire, and in the corners set An arbour green with wandis long and small Railed about, and so with leaves beset Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet, That lyf was none, walking there forbye, That might within scarce any wight espy. So thick the branches and the leave's green Beshaded all the alleys that there were.
The natives had fled in the night, and only Hassan and the camels remained. Hassan was largely contemptuous. "Let them go!" he said. "We are but a day's journey from Wanda. We will go forward alone, effendi. The chief of the Wandis will not slay two peaceful merchants who desire only to travel through to the Great Desert." And so, with the camels strung together, they went forward.
At that the stranger moved, as one coming out of a deep reverie. "There is no need to call your servant," he said, halting slightly over the words. "I speak your language." Herne opened his eyes in surprise. He knew that many of the Wandis had come in contact with Englishmen, but few of them could be said to have a knowledge of the language.
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