It took the natives some time to understand his meaning; but when he had shown them what he wanted done they worked with a will, the women carrying enormous stones, and even the little children lending aid.
The parapet of stone grew like the walls of Rome, until, at last, it formed a semi-circle around the village, joining the mountain-side at either end. Then the women and children were placed under cover, and ordered not to move. Edward posted himself at the head of the path which led from the west, and Max on the other side of the village. At the feet of each was a box of ammunition. As for Crouch, he hobbled here and there on the charred stump of his foot, giving instructions up to the last minute, when, in the dying light of day, Cæsar and his Arabs were observed advancing up the valley.
[CHAPTER XV--CHOLERA]
As before, it was Cæsar who led the way; and the stone wall warned him that danger was ahead. He guessed the truth in a flash. He knew well enough that the natives themselves would never have dared to offer him resistance.
He stopped dead upon the path, and pointed out the wall to the Arab who accompanied him. The man shaded his eyes with the palm of his hand, for the mists of evening were rising from the valley, and the light was bad. After a while the Arab disappeared from view, and then returned with his comrades. They came up the path as men stalk game, creeping from boulder to boulder. It was impossible to see them from the village. Flat upon the ground, they glided from place to place like snakes. And every minute the light was getting worse.
One man, more daring than his comrades, had gained the cover of a large rock about two hundred yards from the village.
His eyes were sharp as those of a vulture. He was descended from the sons of the desert. Peering round the angle of the rock behind which he was hiding, he caught sight of Edward Harden's helmet, moving behind the wall.
In a second, the butt of his rifle was at his shoulder, and his left eye was closed. He took in a deep breath, and aimed. At that moment, there was a sharp crack from the wall, whence nothing of the Arab was visible but the upper part of his head. And Edward Harden's bullet drilled a hole in the centre of the man's forehead; so that his head just dropped like a broken toy, and he lay still and lifeless, with his loaded rifle in his hand. Son of a warlike race, that for centuries had oppressed the ignorant and the weak, he had gone to make his peace with God, the Giver of Life and Death.
Cæsar, from some distance behind, with a pair of field-glasses to his eyes, had watched this tragedy of seconds; and he knew at once with whom he had to reckon. He drew a whistle from his pocket, and blew a long, shrill note, which was the signal to retreat. His three remaining Arabs came back to him, retiring even more cautiously than they had advanced.
Night fell, as a curtain is rung down upon a stage. The natives of the village, the old men and women and children, who had sat huddled and shivering under cover of the wall, came forth and marvelled that a Fire-god had been turned back by a single shot. Crouch's authority increased by leaps and bounds. The villagers, like children, desired to celebrate the occasion with inconsequent rejoicing. They set about beating large, wooden drums, but Grouch cast these away. They lit fires, but Crouch stamped them out.