“Wait here until I reach down for you from above,” he said to Abdul. “In the meantime shove everything in the room against that door—it may delay them long enough.” Then he stepped to the sill of the narrow window with the girl upon his shoulders. “Hold tight,” he cautioned her. A moment later he had clambered to the roof above with the ease and dexterity of an ape. Setting the girl down, he leaned far over the roof’s edge, calling softly to Abdul. The youth ran to the window.
“Your hand,” whispered Tarzan. The men in the room beyond were battering at the door. With a sudden crash it fell splintering in, and at the same instant Abdul felt himself lifted like a feather onto the roof above. They were not a moment too soon, for as the men broke into the room which they had just quitted a dozen more rounded the corner in the street below and came running to a spot beneath the girl’s window.
Chapter VIII
The Fight in the Desert
As the three squatted upon the roof above the quarters of the Ouled-Nails they heard the angry cursing of the Arabs in the room beneath. Abdul translated from time to time to Tarzan.
“They are berating those in the street below now,” said Abdul, “for permitting us to escape so easily. Those in the street say that we did not come that way—that we are still within the building, and that those above, being too cowardly to attack us, are attempting to deceive them into believing that we have escaped. In a moment they will have fighting of their own to attend to if they continue their brawling.”
Presently those in the building gave up the search, and returned to the café. A few remained in the street below, smoking and talking.
Tarzan spoke to the girl, thanking her for the sacrifice she had made for him, a total stranger.
“I liked you,” she said simply. “You were unlike the others who come to the café. You did not speak coarsely to me—the manner in which you gave me money was not an insult.”
“What shall you do after tonight?” he asked. “You cannot return to the café. Can you even remain with safety in Sidi Aissa?”
“Tomorrow it will be forgotten,” she replied. “But I should be glad if it might be that I need never return to this or another café. I have not remained because I wished to; I have been a prisoner.”