men surrounded the prisoners, slipping cartridges
into their Remingtons as a hint to them to remain still.

"By Heaven, they are men on camels!" cried Cochrane, his troubles all
forgotten as he strained his eyes to catch sight of these new-comers.
"I do believe that it is our own people." In the confusion he had tugged
his hands free from the halter which bound them.

"They've been smarter than I gave them credit for," said Belmont, his
eyes shining from under his thick brows. "They are here a long two
hours before we could have reasonably expected them. Hurrah, Monsieur
Fardet, _ca va bien, n'est ce pas?_"

"Hurrah, hurrah! _merveilleusement bien! Vivent les Anglais! Vivent
les Anglais!_" yelled the excited Frenchman, as the head of a column of
camelry began to wind out from among the rocks.

"See here, Belmont," cried the Colonel. "These fellows will want to
shoot us if they see it is all up. I know their ways, and we must be
ready for it. Will you be ready to jump on the fellow with the blind
eye? and I'll take the big nigger, if I can get my arms round him.
Stephens, you must do what you can. You, Fardet, _comprenez vous?
Il est necessaire_ to plug these Johnnies before they can hurt us.
You, dragoman, tell those two Soudanese soldiers that they must be
ready--but, but". . . his words died into a murmur, and he swallowed
once or twice. "These are Arabs," said he, and it sounded like another
voice.

Of all the bitter day, it was the very bitterest moment. Happy Mr.
Stuart lay upon the pebbles with his back against the ribs of his camel,
and chuckled consumedly at some joke which those busy little
cell-workers had come across in their repairs. His fat face was
wreathed and creased with merriment. But the others, how sick, how
heart-sick, were they all! The women cried. The men turned away in
that silence which is beyond tears. Monsieur Fardet fell upon his face,
and shook with dry sobbings.

The Arabs were firing their rifles as a welcome to their friends, and
the others as they trotted their camels across the open returned the
salutes and waved their rifles and lances in the air. They were a
smaller band than the first one--not more than thirty--but dressed in
the same red headgear and patched jibbehs. One of them carried a small
white banner with a scarlet text scrawled across it. But there was
something there which drew the eyes and the thoughts of the tourists
away from everything else.