"Grab the stirrup, Dan! Now run like blazes! There they come!"
Dan snatched at the stirrup and as Dick urged his horse to flight he seemed to be flying through the air. Every time he raised his foot for a forward step, he was pulled ahead by the rush of the horse and his flight was a series of leaps that carried him forward like a kangaroo.
"Gee whizz!" he gasped. "This is grand if I can keep it up! I feel like a giant grasshopper!"
Over his head whizzed the bullets of the galloping Arabs, who were joining in the chase, and the cliffs ahead seemed very far away.
Dick encouraged his friend to keep up.
"Watch your step, Dan. Keep going for a minute longer and you're safe!"
The dust rose about them in a cloud. Dan's mouth was parched and dry. His lips seemed to be cracking and his eyes full of grit, but he hung to the stirrup for all he was worth, struggling desperately to keep from falling.
It was like the end of a Marathon run, with every ounce of his strength put forth by sheer will power to keep from giving up the race. But the difference was that if he should lose the race, he would lose his life as well.
Half dazed and almost blinded by the dust, Dan suddenly felt the horse stop and he plunged forward in a heap. "This is my finish," he thought. "I'm a goner, sure!"
He lay there panting, expecting in the next moment to feel a bullet crash into his body, but instead, he was picked up by friendly hands and revived with splashes of cool water over his face and head.