e said calmly: "Don't
fear. We are perfectly safe; try and sleep some; you need rest badly."

Canaris stretched himself out flat, and, after making sure that Melton
was sleeping--for the poor fellow's weariness was greater than the pain
of the wound--Guy, too, lay down on the hard rock, and fell instantly
asleep.

Dawn had been very near when they reached their hiding place. Through
the early hours of the morning they slept on, heedless of the loud
cries, the sounds of anger and wrath that floated up from the shadows of
the gorge, and when the sun was past its meridian, Guy awoke. Canaris
stretched himself and sat up at the same time.

Their first thought was of Melton. He was still sleeping, but it was a
restless, uneasy slumber, for he tossed about and moaned.

The heat was now very great, and they suffered terribly from thirst. Far
below they could hear the water rushing over its stony bed, and the
sound was maddening.

Even had one dared to attempt that perilous descent in the broad light
of day, there would have been danger from another source, for all that
afternoon Somalis and Arabs in large and small parties passed up and
down the gorge, even scanning at times the rocky sides of the cliff, but
never for a moment suspecting the close proximity of those they sought.

At last Melton awoke. He was weak and feverish. His wound had opened,
and his clothes were heavy with stiffened blood. He complained bitterly
of thirst, and talked at times in a rambling, excited manner.

"He's in a bad way," said the Greek. "We must leave here as soon as
night comes, and as he is too ill to walk, he must be carried."

"What do you propose to do?" asked Guy.

"Well," rejoined Canaris, "we shall travel only at night. If all goes
well, we will be fifty miles distant in four or five days, and on the
fifth night we shall reach our journey's end."

"Our journey's end?" queried Guy.

"Yes; of our land-journey at least, for we shall then be at the entrance
to the underground river."

CHAPTER XVI.

BESIEGED.

The African sun had gone down, leaving only a reddish tinge against the
western horizon, when the three fugitives left their refuge and climbed
to the top of the cliff. In the dim twilight it was impossible to make
out the country which lay vaguely outspread at their feet.

Canaris made a rude stretcher of branches, and, arranging Melton as
comfortably as possible, they started away. The top of the gorge sloped