Then, Lord, what a sight!  Below us, sheltered between two flanking hillocks, was about a division of Feisul’s Arab infantry, packing up sulkily, preparing to follow the retreat.  It was a safe bet the French didn’t know they were there, and I dare say the same thought occurred to every one of us the same instant.  Mabel thought of it.  I know I did.  But Jeremy voiced it first, heeling his horse up beside us.

“What do you say, Jim?  I bet you I can rally that gang.  Shall I lead ’em and lick hell out of the Algies?”

But Grim shook his head.

“You might, but the game is to pull the plug properly.  Get this lot on the run.  The less fighting, the less risk of drasticism when the French get to Damascus.  Chase ’em off home!”

So Jeremy did it; and that, I believe, accounts for a story that got in the newspapers about Feisul trying to spring a surprise on the French at the last minute.  Some French officers in armored cars came over the brow of the hill in pursuit of us—­three cars, three officers, three machine-guns, and about a dozen men.  One car quit on the hill-top, so I suppose it broke down, but its occupants must have seen Jeremy careering up and down the line encouraging those sulky Arabs to get a move on, and I suppose they told tales afterwards to a newspaper correspondent at the base.

Anyhow, the two pursuing armored cars didn’t dare come near enough to be dangerous until we had followed the retreating Arab regiments for about a mile, and the Algerians appeared over the hill-top, coming very slowly.  A long-range rifle-fire commenced, the Arabs returning it scrappily as they retreated; and we made believe there were other regiments to be shepherded, steering a northward course downhill toward broken ground that couldn’t have suited our purpose better.  By the way those armored cars came after us, keeping their distance, it was clear enough that they suspected an ambush.

So we had a clear start and led them a dance in and out among boulders and the branches of a watercourse, Jeremy galloping ahead to spy a course out.  Whenever they came in view we acted a little piece for them, making Rene wave the white cloth while I protected him and held off Mabel and Grim, who went through the motions of trying to brain me with pistol butts.

Two or three times they opened fire, more by way of forcing a surrender, I think, than with any intention of hitting us; they wanted to take Feisul alive.  It was like a game of fox and geese, and with Jeremy scouting ahead we could have kept them dodging us for hours if we hadn’t run out of gas.

Then we abandoned the car and took refuge in a cave that stank as if it had been a tomb for generations.  The French drew up their cars fifty yards away with machine-guns covering the cave mouth; and after we were sure they weren’t going to squirt a stream of lead at us, I went out with the tablecloth to negotiate terms.