"We are lost, Chutney," whispered Canaris in tones of despair.
At the mention of this name, Guy felt the colonel's arms clasp his waist in a convulsive thrill.
"Not a sound, Colonel Carrington," he muttered under his breath, "as you value your freedom."
The tightened grasp instantly relaxed, and Guy turned his head slightly to obtain a clearer view of Oko Sam.
This action hastened the climax, for his burnous caught on the button of Colonel Carrington's coat and fell to the ground. A glaring torch passing at the moment completed the catastrophe, and the keen eyed Galla chief uttered a howl of rage and amazement as he recognized his old enemy of the market place at Berbera.
Never did Captain Chutney's quick wits do him a better service than at that moment.
In one glance he took in the whole situation, the astounded chief and his counselors, the swarthy mass of savages ready for instant action, the armed escort that stood between him and the edge of the encampment.
More speedily than words can tell it, his determination was reached. With a warning cry to Canaris, a hasty injunction to Colonel Carrington to hold fast, he snatched a short dagger from his waist and plunged it an inch or more into the flank of the Greek's camel, and then into that of his own animal.
The frightened and agonized beasts pranced madly for a second or two and then plunged desperately forward, trampling the amazed guards right and left.
It was over in a moment; a howl from the infuriated chief, a terrific uproar from the vast throng, and then, spurred to greater efforts by the tumult in their ears, the valiant camels thundered out into the desert, heedless of the scattered rifle-fire, the volley of whizzing spears. With tremendous strides they bore their precious burdens toward safety and freedom, while the silence of the African night was rent by the venomous cries of their bloodthirsty pursuers.