"Never! Unbelievers do not enter our dwelling-places."
"We will see about that!" exclaimed the Frenchman, and, turning to his followers, he cried out, "Forward!"
The struggle had commenced—the exasperation of the Bedouins was at its height, and the determination of the Europeans was unyielding.
Suddenly, in the distance, behind the tents and from the entrance of the defile, a shot was heard. It came from the solitary sentinel, who gave the preconcerted signal. Were M. de Morin and Joseph still alive, and were they being hurried off into the mountains?
CHAPTER XXVII.
It now became necessary to join the sentinel at all hazards, and ascertain what was going on in that direction. The six men, at an order from M. Périères, formed up in close order, ready to charge the Bedouins if any attempt were made to bar their passage. But the report which had so unexpectedly resounded from the entrance to the defile resulted in a modification of the bellicose ideas of the Nomads, and in delaying their attack. The sharp, ringing crack of the rifle did not seem to them at all like the sound produced by their accustomed arms. They concluded, therefore, that succour was at hand for the Europeans from the direction of the mountain, and instead of presenting a bold front and making any resistance, they precipitately opened out and let the band of horsemen through their midst. The latter were not slow to make use of their advantage, and a few moments saw them at the end of the mountain spur.
As soon as they reached the head of the defile the sentinel met them and made his report. He had not been on his post a quarter of an hour, when five Bedouins, on foot, and dragging along with them a prisoner whom he was not able to recognize, left the camp and advanced towards him. In obedience to his orders, he at once fired, and then took refuge behind a rock.
"Take your place in the ranks," said M. Périères, at the same time giving the word, "Forward!"
The defile, in which the little troop found themselves, was a narrow, tortuous, uneven pass of no great length. It did not form part of the mountain range, but was a gorge debouching abruptly on to a plain. As soon as they were fairly in it they saw the five Nomads running as hard as they could towards another spur of the mountain, and, without hesitation, they set off in pursuit and speedily came up with the Bedouins.
The latter took to flight at once on seeing that they were pursued, firing a few random and harmless shots as they went, and, lest their movements should be retarded, they abandoned their prisoner. The unfortunate captive, with his hands tied behind his back, was lying flat on his face, with his head half buried in the sand. His rescuers hastened to raise him on his feet, and recognized Mohammed-Abd-el-Gazal, pale as death, his features convulsed with fear, his eyes haggard, his hair, beard, and eyebrows smothered in sand, his bûrnus gone, in his shirt-sleeves, and altogether in the most pitiable plight.