llow his example, though. It's tiring work this
holding the fort, with nothing to drink, either."

"Better have some skoff first," said Haviland, "such as it is. That
hippo-shoot we were going to have to-morrow won't come off now, however
things go."

But little appetite had any of them for their wretched grain diet. A
long hot hour dragged its weary length, then another. The three white
men were dozing. The Arabs, their squares of praying carpets spread,
and with shoes off, were salaaming in the direction of Mecca, as
devoutly as their brethren in the faith and foes in arms were, or should
have been doing, out yonder in the opposing lines. Then suddenly the
alarm was given. A peril, imminent and wholly unlooked-for, had risen
up to confront them. In a moment every man was at his station, wide
awake now, alert, expectant.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE LAST SHOT.

Alarm quickly gave way to amazement. What did this mean? Approaching
in a half-circle came a great crowd of natives--miserable, woe
begone-looking objects, and entirely unarmed. There were women and
children among them too, and as they drew nearer, they uttered the most
doleful lamentations, in several different dialects, beseeching pity
both by word and gesture.

"What on earth's the meaning of this?" cried Haviland, fairly puzzled.
"Somala, tell them to go away. Tell them we don't want them. We've no
use for them."

Somala's tone was quick and fierce as he ordered them to halt. But
without avail. On they came, howling piteously. Immediately the Arab
raised his rifle, and shot down one of the foremost, wounding another.

"Stop that, Somala," commanded the doctor, who, with the other two white
men, was under the brief impression that for some reason or another
Mushad had abandoned his slaves and retired. "The poor devils are not
fighting."

In no wise deterred by what had happened, the miserable crowd ran
forward, yelling more piteously than ever. They were within a hundred
yards of the defences, then seventy.

"But Mushad is," retorted Somala in a growl. "Stand back all of you, or
we will kill you all," he roared, again firing into the densely packed
mass of wretched humanity.

The shouts and screams which followed upon the discharge were appalling,
but what happened next was more so. Like mown grass the whole crowd of
the imaginary refugees fell prone on their faces--thus revealing the
bulk and flower of the enemy's fighting