Royson and Abdur Kad'r, flying for their lives, spurred on by the further knowledge that even if they escaped capture or death they yet had to undertake a difficult journey on tired beasts if they would save the expedition from the attack evidently meditated by Alfieri and his cohort of plunderers, the two, then—Englishman and Arab—rode like men who valued their necks but lightly.
Bullets sang close to their ears, and one actually chipped the stock of Dick's rifle, almost unseating him by the force of the blow. But the Bisharins were excited, and forgot their fatigue for a mile or so, by which time night fell, and the uncanny darkness soon rendered it quite impossible to ride at all. They dismounted, and led the camels. Abdur Kad'r, true son of the desert, pressed forward nimbly, since every yard gained was a yard stolen from the pursuers. After a while they were able to mount again, but now the jaded camels lagged, and not all the sheik's prayers or imprecations could force them even into the regulation pace of two and a half miles an hour.
To make matters worse, a hot breeze sprang up from the south, and stirred the desert into curling sand-wraiths, which blinded them and made it hard to detect sounds even close at hand. They were fully thirty miles distant from the camp, with eight hours of darkness before them, during which time they could hope to cover only half the march. The thought rose unbidden that the remaining half must be undertaken in daylight, with wornout camels, while the Hadendowa kafila was presumably in fresh condition.
Something of the sort must have been in Abdur Kad'r's mind when, he said:
"The misbegotten thieves who follow, Effendi, will count on overtaking us soon after daybreak. We must keep the water-bags fastened until the dawn. Then let the camels empty them."
Royson silently debated the chances for and against an endeavor to rush the journey on foot. If practicable, he would have attempted it, leaving the Arab to save himself and the camels by adopting a longer route. He decided that the project must fail. He could not find the road at night, and his thin boots would be cut to pieces by the rocks before he had gone many miles.
Yet, if they were overtaken, what would happen to Irene and the others? A sharp pain gripped his breast, and his eyes clouded. He threw back his head, and passed a hand over his clammy brow. The action seemed to clear his brain, and he saw instantly that there was only one course open to him. "Abdur Kad'r," he said, when a level space enabled them to walk side by side, "which of our camels is the stronger?"
"They are both weary, Effendi, but mine has carried less weight than yours. Ere he fell for the last time, he would lead."
"Listen, then, and do as I say. If we are attacked to-night I shall stand and face our assailants. You ride on alone. I shall try to gain a fair start for you. You know what depends on your efforts. Should you fail, you not only lose life and fortune, but you also endanger the lives of many. You must reach the camp by some means. And, when you see Miss Fenshawe, tell her that my last thought was of her. Do you understand?"
"Effendi—"