The Talbot Mundy Megapack. Talbot Mundy

obey would be to call the bluff, which might oblige the iblis to take some unimaginably desperate course. There was no guessing what tricks he had in store, so Jim played safe.

      “No, no!” he begged. “In the name of Allah the compassionate, not that!”

      “I can make abras (leprous) whom I will!”

      That was Jim’s cue to do a little sensational acting. Plainly the purpose was to make him thoroughly afraid, so to get at the motive behind the purpose he would have to seem afraid; and he set to work to do that. Most of Jim’s successes had been won by keeping his head in emergencies; he had not much experience of the outward effects of terror on himself. He had to risk overacting the part, putting in practice all he could remember of the symptoms of Arab panic.

      His teeth stubbornly refused to chatter, and he could not make the cold sweat come; but he could slobber and mutter Koran text and beg for mercy, throwing himself forward to beat on the floor with the palms of his hands and call the iblis such names as “prince of wizards—lord of potent curses—father of terrors and captain of calamities,” names which pleased the iblis very much indeed.

      After that he flew into a panic, making believe he thought the iblis would rush at him. He scrambled to his feet and hugged the wall like an animal trying to escape, then beat on the door with his fists, and finally came to a stand with open mouth and glaring eyes as if hope were gone and he could only await the inevitable.

      The iblis appeared to consider himself a judge of such symptoms, and was not quite satisfied yet. He, too, seemed to await the inevitable, as if fear always ran an appointed course and he preferred to see the thing complete.

      Jim, aping abject terror, stood and wondered what the—the man expected more. What should an Arab in fear of witchcraft do in proof of utter lack of self-control? He had it! He sprang at the candle and stamped out the light with his foot, screaming instantly in added terror of darkness and scrambling around the wall to the door again to bear on it and shout for help.

      At last the iblis appeared satisfied. It was time to turn the last trick.

      “Allah makes all things easy. I can find you in the dark!” he boomed.

      In answer Jim groaned and muttered enough to satisfy the very hellions who stoke the fires of Eblis.

      “I can make you abras without touching you!”

      “Oh no, no, no! Shi mamkut! Mnain hashshakawi! (That is abominable! How could you be so wicked!)”

      “Or I can spare you if I will.”

      “Spare me then, father of afflictions!”

      “Or I can spare you for a little while, and reach you with my curses at a distance if you disobey me.”

      “Damn him, I wish he’d hurry up,” thought Jim. “I’m getting tired of this.”

      But he managed to keep up a pretty good semblance of terror; and either the iblis was getting tired, too, or else time began to press.

      “Be still. I will spare for the present.”

      “Ilham’dillah!’ (God be praised!)

      Jim collapsed into a squatting posture on the floor, moving his head this and that way to try and see the other in the dark; but the iblis’ black skin made that impossible. Apparently, however, the iblis could see Jim and guessed his purpose.

      “I can be invisible whenever I choose.”

      “O father of darkness, what do you want with me?”

      “Ah! What do I want with you? What but to make of you a wizard like myself. I recognize the spirit of obedience, but there must be a test.”

      “Father of terrors, I have been too much tested!”

      “Malaish. (No matter.) There is another. Fail in this and you shall see the leprosy seize you in an hour.”

      Having exhausted all the outward forms of fear he could think of, Jim sat still.

      “My servants will come presently,” said the iblis. “They are not such as you, fit to become wizards, but servants—mean men—dogs. They will take things away from here to another place. Go with them, but say nothing to them. Answer no questions. Watch where they put the things. Then return and bring word of it to me.”

      “I obey, father of happenings,” Jim answered meekly.

      It was almost the hardest thing he ever did to keep a note of triumph from his voice that minute.

      “Speak one word to them—answer on question—and the curse shall rot the carcasses of you and yours!”

      “I am silent—silent!”

      “Then be silent!”

      For another half hour Jim and the iblis faced each other in darkness, Jim on the floor with his back against the wall and the iblis on the bottom step. What with headache, hunger, pain in his wrist and general weariness Jim almost fell asleep; but just as the first false light before dawn brightened the narrow window there came a stealthy, subdued knocking on the door that brought the iblis to his feet. He crossed the room, put on his brown cloak, produced an enormous key, went to listen at the door, and after a backward, precautionary glance in Jim’s direction opened it.

      CHAPTER IX

      “The butcha speaks wisdom.”

      Catesby and Narayan Singh had no more matches; and Suliman had none, for they searched him. They tried to fathom the cave’s recesses in the dark, but gave that up as hopeless; even the Sikh’s eyes could not penetrate the Stygian darkness that began where the faintly reflected starlight ceased, a yard or two from the entrance hole.

      So they climbed out, and with Suliman disconsolate on Narayan Singh’s knees held a consultation. Catesby, of course, began it.

      “Which shall we do? Return to camp and report Major Grim missing, or hunt about and try to find him?”

      But Suliman spoke next, being only a stickler for etiquette when he could score by it.

      “I will not go back to camp! If that iblis has eaten Jimgrim, then Narayan Singh must kill the iblis and cut his belly open and let Jimgrim out.”

      Catesby laughed, but Narayan Singh knew better. It is not only the children in that land who believe in goblin stories.

      “If we go back to camp without him, sahib, half the camp will call us liars and the other half will believe henceforth all the tales about the iblis, and twice as many more tales of their own invention. Moreover, my orders are to bring that Jimgrim back to Jerusalem alive.”

      “But where to look?” wondered Catesby.

      There was cactus-covered sandy hill and dale in every direction. They might chance on footprints, but likely enough it would be easier and quicker work to follow rumor through Jerusalem city than such a trail by moonlight.

      “Let us ask the butcha,” said Narayan Singh, preferring to be charged with talking nonsense rather than seem to rebuke an officer.

      Etiquette in his case was something only to be broken in a pinch.

      Catesby produced a cigarette, and swore, remembering he had no matches. Narayan Singh, with mutiny in mind if Catesby should insist on going back to camp, proceeded after a fashion of his own to draft a proposition.

      “Now Suliman-jee, son of the warrior Rustum, how much have you learned from Jimgrim?”

      “Everything.”

      “That is a very great deal. Tell me some of it. Where would thieves sell loot, for instance?”

      “In the suk (bazaar).”

      “That might be. But if they feared to go into the suk, what then?”

      “They might run away over the hills to Hebron.”

      “In that case we cannot follow