The valley beneath the town was skimmed across, and then, scaling a low stone wall, they plunged into the shadow of a big plantation and ran on between rows of limes and coffee trees.
Guy feared that the Arabs who owned these orchards would join in the pursuit, but Canaris assured him that there was little danger of that. An uproar in the town, he declared, was always the signal for the dwellers outside the walls to shut themselves in their houses.
A danger from another source, however, threatened them, for with a furious growl a great dog came bounding on behind, and by his loud outcry made the location of the fugitives very plain to their enemies.
The brute persistently followed them up, snapping at their heels, and baying loudly. No stones could be found, and to use firearms would only make matters worse. On the farther side of the plantation, however, the dog stopped and uttered a long-drawn howl that was caught up in echoes across the valley.
"I'm giving out," cried Melton faintly. "You'll have to leave me."
Canaris turned on him fiercely.
"Do you hear the mad fiends howling behind us? They are scattering over the country, and if we are caught, good by," and he whipped his hand across his throat. "You must keep up, only half a mile more, and I'll hide you so securely that the fiends can never find us."
"Year hear?" added Guy. "Only half a mile more, Melton, and then rest."
But all this encouragement was of little use. Forbes was suffering now from the reaction, and his strength was almost gone. A sound of shouting suddenly rose from the valley, and taking Melton by the arms they fairly dragged him along.
A hill now loomed up before them, and clutching stones and limbs of trees they made their way painfully to the summit.