"What's that ahead?" exclaimed Gerald, pointing to a small, black, pillar-like object in the sand a full mile away.
"It's a rock," replied Hugh.
"That's a blessing!" ejaculated Reeves, for his camel was beginning to show signs of having over-exerted himself. "I only hope there are no more of the brutes in ambush," he muttered.
There were two alternatives—either halting and making a stand in the open, or taking the risks that the rock already concealed more of the Arabs, and, if not, enjoying the advantages of fighting with their backs against a wall.
Reeves chose the latter. It was evident that flight was now out of the question, for, in addition to his hierie showing signs of fatigue, the lads' camels were almost at the end of their stride.
At length the fugitives drew up at the place they had selected, to make their desperate defence. It was, on closer acquaintance, a large mass of rock, sheer on three sides, and sloping steeply on the remaining front. The most active climber in the world could not hope, without climbing implements, to scale the perpendicular sides, which were quite twenty feet in height, and worn smooth by the action of sandstorms through countless ages. At the base of the fourth side there was a fairly wide trench, partly filled with drifting sand, a low wall of irregularly-shaped rock forming a breastwork about two feet in height.
"Couldn't be better!" exclaimed Reeves, as he slipped from his camel. "Be sharp; make these brutes lie down. Never mind that; it's over." This last remark was addressed to Gerald, who ducked his head as a bullet flattened itself out upon the rock a good six feet from the ground.
The camels, fortunately tractable and docile, were made to lie in the trench, while, to be perfectly sure that they would not stampede and leave the fugitives in the lurch, Hugh fastened their halters together.
"Now we're fairly comfortable," continued the correspondent, as he placed his reserve of cartridges by his side. "Those fellows won't keep firing long, I fancy. When they make a rush for it, wait till they are the length of a cricket pitch off, then let them have it with some of these stones. Ah! That was a close one!"
A bullet clipped the edge of his burnous, while two others knocked chips off the rock behind which the three fugitives were sheltering.