“Stop!” he called, coming to a halt. “It’s no good running like that!”
For answer she suddenly swung round and faced him, panting and distracted. Her hand dived into her pocket, and issued again holding her revolver. He saw the sunlight flash upon it as she pointed it at him.
His camel was well trained, and he did not wait to tether it. Vaulting from the saddle he walked rapidly towards her, regardless of the menace of the weapon which covered him.
“Don’t dare to come any nearer,” she gasped, “or I’ll shoot you, you brute!”
He stretched out his arms. “Very well, shoot!” he said. “Good God! D’you think I value my life now?”
He saw her fingers press the trigger. There was a flash, a sharp report, and the bullet went singing past his ear, not close enough, perhaps, to suggest that she had taken aim at him, but not so distant that he could ignore it. He ran at her, therefore, and grasped her wrist, so that the revolver fell to the ground. Instantly she flung herself upon her knees and grabbed at it with her left hand, but he dragged her back by her arm, pulling her to her feet.
“You beast!” she exclaimed. “Leave me alone!” and she struck at him with her free hand. Her eyes were flashing, and her hair was tossed about her shoulders.
He put his arm about her, holding her as in a vice, and, stooping, he picked up and pocketed her revolver.
“Now sit down there,” he said, lowering her on to the sand, “and get your breath.”
She saw that there was no use in resisting, and she sat, therefore, glaring up at him as he stood before her.