Stern saw the detested figure of H'yemba standing there, loose-hung, powerful, barbaric, his eyes blinking evilly behind the mica screens that Allan himself had made for him.
With a cry Allan started forward.
“My son!” he gasped.
There, clutched in the smith's left arm, lay the boy!
Allan heard his child crying as in pain, and rage swept every caution to the winds.
He sprang toward H'yemba, cursing; but the smith, with a beast-laugh, raised his right hand.
“Master!” he mocked. “No nearer or ye die!”
Allan, aghast, saw the flicker of sunlight on a pistol-barrel. With only too true an aim, H'yemba had him covered.
Came a little pause, tense as steel wire. Somewhere down the terrace sounded a murmur of voices. Allan seemed to sense that the rebel had now gathered his forces and that a general attack was imminent.
Time! At all hazards he must gain a moment's time!