Hassan had sprung to his feet, Abdslem rushed upon him, and a struggle ensued; Abdslem was the stronger man, and coming prepared, his dagger was first in his hand, and after a short struggle both came to the ground, Hassan under.
"Will you surrender?" said Abdslem, holding down Hassan's dagger hand, while he raised his own to strike.
"Never!" grinned Hassan, glaring upon him and catching his uplifted arm.
Abdslem's whole attention was engaged in the struggle, and he was thus prevented from noticing the presence of Ali el Bezz, who during this time had emerged from the pit and approached them. But what was his dismay on hearing a voice repeat the warning of the Duquela gate, "Beware the Falcon's swoop!" and looking up terror-struck, he met the stern glance of his former prisoner, who stood over him, and before he could recover from his surprise Ali's ataghan was buried in his throat.
As Abdslem fell, Hassan arose.
"May you be rewarded, O my friend!" he said. "The slave was too strong for me; but Azora—is she saved?"
"Saved!" said Ali; "the lion is dead, and the Sultan's beard is defiled."
"And suppose the pan had flashed," said Hassan, with a shudder.
"Both shots would not have failed; the worst is, I have lost an old friend, for I was forced to leave my good gun, to deceive the Sultan's slipper-hunters."
"But," said Hassan, "why did you delay, they will find the well, and you will be pursued?"