Even Melton kept up with wonderful endurance. The excitement had given him false strength, and he kept even pace with Guy and Canaris.
Close at hand was the termination of the street, and as they were within ten yards of it a big Somali suddenly leaped out and barred the way.
The fugitives were going at a rate of speed which it was simply impossible to check. Canaris was a foot in advance, and in an instant more he would have impaled himself on the savage’s outpointed spear.
It was too late to use the revolver which he still carried in his hand, but quick as a flash he hurled it with all his might, and with such correct aim that it landed plump on the fellow’s head with an ugly crack.
The Somali howled with agony, letting the spear drop from his nerveless hands, and just as it clattered to the ground Canaris was upon him with a rush, and down they went together, the Somali undermost.
Canaris was up in a trice, and Guy and Melton, bounding on behind, trampled the half unconscious savage under their feet.
“Go on,” said Guy fiercely. “We will outwit them yet. Brace up, Melton; we’ll soon be out of this hole.”
Forbes gritted his teeth to suppress a cry of pain.
“I can’t keep up much longer,” he said. “I’ll faint from loss of blood.”
The place they had just entered was the great trading locality and slave market of the town. At this time of year it was deserted, but the empty stalls and booths stood about in endless confusion.