It took Tom but a few minutes to adjust the valve, but he knew that the result of this adjustment must be a serious reduction of speed. He was greatly perturbed. It was clearly impossible for Abdul to ride much farther: the horses were in a terrible state of exhaustion. They were cropping the scanty herbage at the side of the track—poor refreshment after the fatigue they had undergone.
“The Moors’ horses must be equally played out, that’s one comfort,” said Tom;—“at least, those that have pursued us all the way, if any have. That’s doubtful: the Moors have probably drawn on every village they have come through.”
“I say, did you hear that?” asked Oliphant.
It was a shout—apparently from a spur of forest some distance to the right of the line which they had expected the enemy to take.
“They’re spreading out! Who’d have thought they’d have kept it up so long?”
“Well, you see, they know that one of us is on horseback: that means that the machine won’t carry us all; and in the nature of things they can overtake a rider.”
“I can see nothing for it but that Abdul must push on alone,” said Tom. “We can manage to get along slowly, and as long as the machine can keep us afloat at all they can’t catch us. But if they catch sight of Abdul he’s bound to be run down. Abdul, you must go on by yourself. Get to the coast if you can, and swim out to the yacht—can you swim?”
“Yes, master.”
“Swim to the yacht, then, and tell Mr. Greatorex what has happened. He’ll do all he can to help us if we can only get near enough.”
Abdul showed some reluctance to leave the others in difficulties, but he obeyed. He mounted the less exhausted of the horses and set off.