"Sorry we can't—for your sakes," said Reeves grimly, under his breath; then, to the lads: "Lie down behind the sack; those gentry mean mischief."
[Illustration: A GOOD SHOT]
A shot whistled over the boat, followed by an irregular volley; then, setting their camels at a steady pace, the Arabs kept up with the boat, reloading their cumbersome weapons as they went.
"If they don't do better than that, we needn't worry," said Reeves, who was sitting aft, and imperturbably grasping the steering oar. "But keep down, you fellows; they may make a fluke and score a cannon."
Almost the next shot cut a long gash in the sail, while another knocked chips off the gunwale.
"This won't do," exclaimed Reeves. "Gerald, come aft for half a minute and steer. Don't show yourself too much."
Kneeling on the bottom boards, the correspondent took careful aim with his musket, and a camel promptly dropped, throwing its rider headlong upon the sand.
"One!" said the marksman calmly. "Hand me your musket, Hugh."