With a snarl the Arab drew his short knife and ran in upon the lads, who promptly took to their heels.
Finding that pursuit was impossible, the half-dazed man directed his attention to Reeves, who unwillingly, though actuated by stern necessity, was compelled to shoot him as he ran.
"That's an old trick," remarked the correspondent. "Many of our men lost their lives in the Sudan through Arabs feigning death. Now, let's look at these two. I am rather curious to see what happened." So saying, he led the way to where the Baggara swordsman and the second Arab were shot.
The Baggara lay on his back. Just below the left shoulder blade was a small puncture, while another was visible barely three inches lower down. Both shots had taken effect, but owing to their high velocity had failed to stop the man instantly. But the strange part was that the second shot, after passing clean through the man's body, and losing some of its rate of speed, had struck the Arab who was behind him in the forehead, causing instant death.
This man was carrying a small goatskin water bottle, but in his fall he had burst it, and the precious liquid was utterly wasted.
"Hard lines!" ejaculated Hugh, rolling his tongue in his parched mouth.
"We must see what the camels have on them," said the correspondent. "Be careful how you approach them; they might run."
"They are used to us," replied Hugh. "We've taken them to be watered many a time;" and uttering the Arab cry of "Lu-lu-lu", the lad made his way towards the spot where the five camels were standing.
"They won't move, you see," he continued, hastening his pace. "Look! two of them have water bottles slung from the saddles."
"Wait till I bring our two beasts out," called Reeves from a distance.