Night fell, and with the intention of making a bold rush through the outer room when half the watchers were asleep, Ali lay, watching hour after hour for an opportunity.
Time went on, and it seemed as if the leader would never lie down; he always seemed to have something more to say to his followers. But at last he threw himself on the floor, and seemed to sleep.
The time had come.
Three men sat there watching him, their swarthy faces glistening in the light of the torches. All was dark without, and the low growling noise of beasts was once more heard in close proximity to the place. Still they would not keep him back. He could risk an encounter with one of them, even death, sooner than this fearful torture.
At last he turned softly, and drew up one leg, watching his guards the while.
They did not hear him, and he drew up the other leg.
Still no notice was taken; and softly rising to his hands and knees, Ali remained motionless, nerving himself for the supreme effort.
The men were talking in a low voice, the sleepers breathed hard, and now was the moment. Rising then to his feet, he was about to make a rush across the room; he had even stooped to give impetus to his spring, when the chief of his guards leaped up, kris in hand, the others following the example, and Ali shrank back disheartened, and fully awake now to the fact that some one had been watching him all the time.
To struggle with them would only have been to throw away his life; so, with his heart full of despair, Ali allowed himself to be pressed back to his old position, where he lay down, his captor telling him savagely that the orders were to kill him if he attempted to escape.
“And we shall,” said the Malay, “sooner than lose you.”