WAR—HORRID WAR!
These strange events have occurred with great rapidity, and yet, of course, they have taken some little time.
It would seem as though the remainder of Bab Azoun's band, if anywhere in the vicinity, might by this time have arrived on the spot, but they do not show up, which fact is a fortunate one for them, though it takes away from the luster of Sir Lionel's fame.
When the four fugitives come out of the old mine into the moonlight, the soldier looks about him quickly.
"If we could only find horses," he cries.
"What's this?" asks Philander.
A whinny sounds close by.
"This way, friends. Bless me! if this isn't the acme of good luck! Here are horses—three, four of them, just one apiece, by Jove!"
"Oh, how singular! I mean how fortunate!" exclaims Lady Ruth.
There are the animals, fastened to branches of the trees. Why they are separated from the remainder of the herd is not explained.