"The archers are not able to hold back the Arabs any longer," Dan agreed.
"That's right. By this time they must have shot away all their arrows."
From the second line of defense, the Taharans were seen retreating, singly or in pairs, while the Arabs, grown more cautious now, hesitated to rush them, fearing another surprise.
"We can't hold the spring any longer," said Dick, and he gave the order for a general retreat. In a few minutes, the trails were covered with tribesmen, running nimbly to the rocky slopes.
They mounted them lightly as goats, and Dan Carter, though he was a good climber, had to do his best to keep up with the slowest.
As for Dick, he remained among the last. The horse he had captured was at the spring with its muzzle deep in the cool water.
Dick hurried to pull it away before it could injure itself by drinking too much, and swinging into the saddle he brought up the rear of his retreating forces.
Among all the footpaths that led to the top of the cliffs, there was only one that a horseman could ascend, and even that required a sure-footed horse and a steady and fearless rider.
Dick stopped at the foot of the cliffs and turned in his saddle to shake his fist at the pursuing Arabs, then dug his heels in the horse's flanks and sent it up the steep incline. As he reached the top, the grade was almost as steep as the roof of a house and the stones underfoot went rattling down the cliff side.
A few bullets sang through the air and flattened on the rocks beside him, but there was no volley of rifle shots, for at that moment the majority of the Arabs and their mounts were trying to quench their thirst at the spring.