No! he might have been deceived by an excited imagination. The individual before him might possibly be the Arab guard trying to discover his presence before giving the sign.
While the sailor was thus undecided, the huge form drew nearer, approaching on all-fours. It came within eight or ten paces of the spot, and then slowly assumed an upright position. Bill now saw it was not the sentinel but the black sheik!
The old man-o’-war’s-man was never more frightened in his life. He thought of discharging the pistol, and running back to the douar; but then came the thought that he would certainly be shot down the instant he should rise to his feet; and fear held him motionless.
Golah drew nearer and nearer, and the sailor seeing the scimitar uplifted suddenly formed the resolution to act.
Projecting the muzzle of his huge pistol towards the black, he pulled the trigger, and at the same instant sprang to his feet.
There was a loud deafening report, followed by a yell of wild agony.
Bill stayed not to note the effect of his fire; but ran as fast as his legs would carry him towards the camp, already alarmed by the report of the pistol.
The Arabs were running to and fro in terrible fear and confusion, shouting as they ran.
Amidst these shouts was heard, in the direction from which the sailor had fled, a loud voice frantically calling, “Muley! Muley!”
“’Tis the voice of Golah!” exclaimed the Krooman, in Arabic. “He is calling for his son, Muley is his son’s name!”