As the advance guard drew still closer, Canaris thrust his face against the stone. Melton did the same; but Guy, whose curiosity fairly mastered his fear, ventured to raise his head slightly, and a single glance showed him that the strange foe had no intention of halting.
They passed within ten yards of the rock, it is true, but not a man looked to right or left, and they moved at a rapid and steady pace.
Guy's amazement grew deeper as the long procession went by in constantly increasing numbers, for even to his unskilled eyes it was plain that these men were neither Arabs nor Somalis.
The dim light revealed their powerful stature, the dark faces crowned with turbans, the linen cloaks that were flung carelessly on their shoulders, and the various arms, comprising shields, swords, spears, and even guns.
At intervals the stalwart figure of a man towered above the rest, mounted high on a camel or an elephant.
Melton and Canaris ventured to raise their heads in response to a nudge from Guy, and all three witnessed the passing of this strange procession, which comprised nearly a hundred men.
As the rear guard vanished over a ridge to the south, Canaris, without a word, swung himself nimbly to the ground and picked up some glittering object that lay in the path.
"Look," he exclaimed in a tone of wonder, as Guy and Melton followed him down, "do you recognize this workmanship? But no, how could you?" he resumed, without waiting for an answer. "This weapon is of Abyssinian make, and those men were Abyssinians."
"But what are they doing here, so far from their own country?" demanded Guy.
"It is a war party," said Canaris, "and we are not so far from the borders of Abyssinia, after all. It is no uncommon thing for them to raid on the Gallas."