h circumstances.

Presently he became aware of vague noises somewhere in the distance. He
fancied he heard shots fired and a loud tumult of voices.

He thought it might be imagination, but suddenly the sounds increased,
and once or twice footsteps hurried past the dungeon. The noise now woke
Melton, and together they listened, convinced that it was a presentiment
of coming evil. The strange sounds rose and fell, at times nearly dying
away and then bursting out with renewed violence.

"I can't understand it at all," said Guy. "It can't be a rejoicing over
the capture of Zaila, for they are plainly cries of anger."

"We'll know pretty soon what it means," returned Melton; "it concerns
us, you may be sure."

In his excitement he arose and began to pace the floor. His wound was
giving him no pain, he said, adding that he really felt pretty well
again.

At last the shouts seemed to come a little nearer, and before long the
fierce, angry cries were heard close at hand.

"They are surrounding the prison," said Guy, huskily.

He was right. A howling mob was on all sides of them now, and it was
quite clear that they were beginning to attack the walls of the
courtyard, for suddenly half a dozen shots were fired as though the
guards were resisting the invaders.

It was a period of terrible suspense. The shouts increased, the firing
grew heavier, powder-smoke drifted into the prison; but just when they
expected to see their dungeon door torn open by a mad swarm of fanatics
the uproar suddenly ceased.

A full minute of silence followed, and then on the night air rose a howl
of triumph, so savage, so vindictive, that Guy and Melton shivered from
head to foot. For some reason the attack had been suddenly abandoned.
What that reason was they could only surmise.

The silence continued. The invaders had dispersed. Sleep was impossible,
and they passed the time in conversation until a streak of light,
flickering through the opening, showed that morning had come.

Food and drink were brought in. The prisoners ate sparingly. The shadow
of a great calamity was overhanging.

"I am just as sure," said Melton, "that something will shortly happen,
as I am that you and I are in Rao Khan's slave prison at Harar."

"Listen," answered Guy.

Footsteps approached. The door creaked and opened, and a man entered.
With a cry of wonder Guy and Melton sprang to their feet. The new-comer
was bronzed and burnt, he had light hair, a mustache