had fallen, close-grappled with his enemy, into the raging torrent.
From this sad reverie they were roused by the voice of the native
woman speaking to Mr. Haydon.

"She says that we shall soon be out in the open country," said he to
his son.

"Good business!" replied Jack. "As long as we are between these walls
of rock, there seems a trap-like feeling about the affair."

Ten minutes later they crossed a low ridge, and at once the precipice
which had encompassed them opened out swiftly on either hand. Before
them lay a huge, cup-like hollow, filled with buildings.

"A town!" gasped Jack. "We shall be seen!"

"Deserted, my boy," said his father quietly. The more experienced eye
had at once seen the true nature of the place. Jack looked again, and
saw that all was silent, and that the buildings were empty shells. The
walls of the houses stood up along the streets, the vane of a pagoda
darted aloft and glittered in the sun, but no form moved along the
narrow ways, no face peered out upon them as they passed.

Their way lay along what had been the main street of the city, and the
silence, which had been pleasant in the pass, became strange and
creepy here. It told of utter ruin, and seized upon the spirit of
those who passed with a sense of haunting desolation.

Suddenly, into this eerie silence, there broke a sound which set every
heart leaping. It was the swift rattle of a pony's hoofs galloping
towards them. The sound had broken out sharply and near, for the main
street was paved, and the rider had burst on to it from the sandy
track beyond, where he had ridden in silence. They could not see the
rider, for the way bent sharply just before them, and their only
thought was to hide from this newcomer, for to be seen by anyone in
this country spelled danger.

Close at hand was a narrow alley, and into this they hurried. Just
inside the opening was an empty doorway, and they ran through it, and
paused inside a house which turned a blank wall to the street A huge
crack seamed this wall from top to bottom, and Jack, springing forward
softly, clapped his eye to it.

The wall stood at an angle to the street, and the rider darted into
sight as Jack peered out. The latter turned and shot a single whisper
over his shoulder, "Danger," and all stood silent.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

IN THE DESERTED CITY.

Jack had known the rider at once. It was the tall Malay, the
Strangler. He was mounted on a nimble pony, and flog