296
CAIRO TO DAMASCUS
Suddenly I stopped, and threw myself on the ground. Jutting from the slope—scarcely forty feet ahead of me—was a
structure, built of flat stones in the form of a rectangle, and
obviously commanding the area below it. With panting heart
I listened. The silence was deathly. Were they, too, listening
behind the fortification? For at least a half hour I did not
move, though briar thorns dug painfully into my left side.
My luck could have been far worse: I could have fallen into
the briars face down. I had heard nothing, seen no movement
behind the stone barricade. Was the sentry asleep?
Leaving my bag behind I crept toward the rockpile, feeling with my hands for more briar bushes—nature's devilish
barbed wire. Ten feet from the little fort I listened with eyes
closed, and waited. Heartened by the stillness, I crawled the
remaining distance, and lifted myself up, my fingers creeping
up the flat rocks, rock by rock, till they reached the rim. I was
standing upright now, but the fortification was still above my
head. The only thing now was to crawl along the base to investigate through a side or rear entrance. Gumshoeing around
right end, then up the slope, I looked into the parapet. It was
a defense post, but it seemed deserted. I jumped softly inside
and felt around for ammunition boxes. There were none.
Picking up my pack, I resumed my walk, climbing steadily
along the ridge. I came to the edge of a stone fence, and peered
over the edge. In the yard were trees, and beyond them the
dark outlines of what appeared to be a deserted house.
Hurdling the fence, I f