“Thank Heaven, gentlemen, I think that we are saved for the present time,” said Mansoor, wiping away the sand which had stuck to his perspiring forehead.  “Ali Wad Ibrahim says that though an unbeliever should have only the edge of the sword from one of the sons of the Prophet, yet it might be of more profit to the beit-el-mal at Omdurman if it had the gold which your people will pay for you.  Until it comes you can work as the slaves of the Khalifa, unless he should decide to put you to death.  You are to mount yourselves upon the spare camels and to ride with the party.”

The chief had waited for the end of the explanation.  “Now he gave a brief order, and a negro stepped forward with a long, dull-coloured sword in his hand.  The dragoman squealed like a rabbit who sees a ferret, and threw himself frantically down upon the sand once more.

“What is it, Cochrane?” asked Cecil Brown—­for the Colonel had served in the East, and was the only one of the travellers who had a smattering of Arabic.

“As far as I can make out, he says there is no use keeping the dragoman, as no one would trouble to pay a ransom for him, and he is too fat to make a good slave.”

“Poor devil!” cried Brown.  “Here, Cochrane, tell them to let him go.  We can’t let him be butchered like this in front of us.  Say that we will find the money amongst us.  I will be answerable for any reasonable sum.”

“I’ll stand in as far as my means will allow,” cried Belmont.

“We will sign a joint bond or indemnity,” said the lawyer.  “If I had a paper and pencil I could throw it into shape in an instant, and the chief could rely upon its being perfectly correct and valid.”

But the Colonel’s Arabic was insufficient, and Mansoor himself was too maddened by fear to understand the offer which was being made for him.  The negro looked a question at the chief, and then his long black arm swung upwards and his sword hissed over his shoulder.  But the dragoman had screamed out something which arrested the blow, and which brought the chief and the lieutenant to his side with a new interest upon their swarthy faces.  The others crowded in also, and formed a dense circle around the grovelling, pleading man.

The Colonel had not understood this sudden change, nor had the others fathomed the reason of it, but some instinct flashed it upon Stephens’s horrified perceptions.

“Oh, you villain!” he cried furiously.  “Hold your tongue, you miserable creature!  Be silent!  Better die—­a thousand times better die!”

But it was too late, and already they could all see the base design by which the coward hoped to save his own life.  He was about to betray the women.  They saw the chief, with a brave man’s contempt upon his stern face, make a sign of haughty assent, and then Mansoor spoke rapidly and earnestly, pointing up the hill.  At a word from the Baggara, a dozen of the raiders rushed up the path and were lost to