"I've got them," he whispered eagerly. "Unless there's a dummy musician in their ranks, there's a fifty yards' blank in the circle straight out by the camel packs."
"How many do you make altogether, Jack?" inquired Mackay.
The boy replied promptly, "They seem to be about thirty yards or so apart. They are nearly two hundred yards off now, and coming very slowly. There must be nearly fifty of the beasts."
"Good for you, Jack," murmured Mackay, heartily, a tribute of praise which even at that moment Emu Bill and the Shadow echoed with characteristic vehemence.
There was no time to be lost, the fateful ring was closing every instant; so, gripping his rifle tightly, the leader of the expedition made a course out in the direction as indicated by Jack, his comrades following after in Indian file. And as they passed out by the camels, each man breathed a prayer for their safety; then, with the hideous voices of the approaching warriors ringing in their ears, they made their way stealthily out through the saving gap into the freedom beyond.
Surely never before had a course been steered by such odd reckoning, yet the droning cries on either side of the escaping party as they neared the edge of the invisible circle guided them as well as glaring beacons would have done, and they manœuvred cautiously through the midst of the fervently singing band, luckily escaping all observation.
"It was like navigatin' through the Heads of Sydney Harbour," exclaimed Emu Bill, flinging himself down on the sand immediately they had cleared the dangerous line.
"We've got to thank our stars the beggars have the good sense to say grace before supper," said Jack, cheerfully.
"We are no' just altogether out o' the difficulty yet," warned Mackay. "They'll be back with a rush when they find out their mistake."
"But you ain't goin' to let them run the whole circus, surely?" complained Emu Bill. "Let's pepper the howlin' dervishes now."