Hassan proceeded to free Joe from his bonds—he was first at hand—and the others at the same time began to untie our cords.
“I will give you a chance to fight the scorpions,” said the sheik, grimly; but that was the biggest mistake he ever made. He should not have risked loosening our bonds. He took us for mere boys, but forgot that even a boy, if he is an American and desperate, will fight to the last for life and liberty.
The tall one pushed Joe toward the edge of the well and was about to thrust him over the brink when the boy, who had seemed dazed and inert, suddenly stooped and grasped the Arab’s legs. It was the old trick that had once before astonished us. There was a brief struggle and then the man rose into the air, his arms extended and swinging in space, and plunged head foremost into the pit. His cry of terror, as he fell, was bloodcurdling, and Abdul Hashim gave an answering yell and sprang toward Joe with a knife glittering in his upraised hand.
Swift as an arrow the boy darted under his arm and ran where a rifle leaned against the rock. I saw him swing around and fire point blank at the sheik, who was not three paces away—but I had business of my own to attend to. For the burly Arab who had partly unfastened my bonds now clutched me by the throat and threw me to the ground, where he knelt on my chest and drew his pistol from his belt. Just as he fired the weapon was thrust aside and Archie’s big fist crashed into the fellow’s face and knocked him flat beside me.
“All right, Sam; you can get up now,” said the Yankee, cheerfully. “The war’s over.”
He cut my remaining bonds with a knife; half conscious of what had happened, I sat up and looked around.
Joe was seated on a rock bandaging his leg with a handkerchief.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Only a scratch,” he replied. “Abdul Hashim’s knife grazed me as he fell.”
The sheik was lying motionless upon his face. Archie turned him over and the dark eyes stared steadfastly at the sun, without blinking. I found myself trembling as with an ague.