d tried to push him back, but Guy forced his
way past him, and pressing the revolver close to the brute's head pulled
the trigger.

It was a good shot. The leopard rolled over lifeless, and the Arab, with
Guy's assistance, rose to his feet very dazed, while the blood dripped
down from his lacerated back.

Instantly the scene changed. The negro, angered at the death of his
leopard, advanced menacingly on Guy with a drawn knife, and in response
to his summons other negroes rallied to his aid.

But the Arab, too, had friends in the crowd, and they, pressing forward
in turn, made it seem as though a bloody conflict were inevitable.

Just as the issue was trembling in the balance, a shout arose from the
crowded street.

"The white man! Make room for the white man!" and through the parted
ranks Guy saw advancing a bronzed Englishman in white flannels and
helmet.

The stranger pushed right in through the sullen group of negroes until
he reached the open space before the tent, and stood face to face with
Guy.

Their eyes met in one amazed glance that startled the wondering
spectators, and then from Guy's lips burst a glad, hoarse cry:

"Melton Forbes, or I am dreaming!"

"Chutney, by Jove! My dear fellow, can it be possible?"

All else forgotten in their deep joy of meeting, the two bronzed
Englishmen fell into each other's arms, and the Arabs and negroes, dimly
comprehending what it all meant, shouted in sympathy and lowered their
arms.

CHAPTER III.

THE ARAB'S WARNING.

For a little while the British officer and the British newspaper
correspondent could do nothing but stand off to look at each other, and
then embrace again as though it were hard to believe that it was not all
a dream.

The Arabs and negroes had drawn to one side, and the big savage was
wrathfully inspecting the body of the leopard.

"Come," said Melton, plucking Guy's arm, "we will find a quiet place
where we can talk in peace."

The crowd made way for them, but before they had taken half a dozen
steps the big Arab staggered forward and seized Guy by the hand.

"You brave man," he cried. "Makar never forget."

He kept on with many protestations of gratitude until Guy tried to
withdraw in embarrassment.

"Wait," said the Arab. "Come along. Me tell you something."

He fairly dragged Guy back to the entrance of the tent where none could
hear, and bending low he whispered