der.

"Quick, a piece of cloth!" he said. "This needs a bandage."

A strip was put into his hands and as Dick finished tying up the wound
he was surprised to see the girl, Veena, standing beside him with more
of the cloth which she had woven.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I am trying to help, O Master."

"But I gave orders for all the old folks, children and women to take
refuge up there back of the cliffs."

"Forgive me, O Master! I saw the fighting on the plain, and I could
not stay up there in safety. I had to come down to do my share."

"Your share?"

"Yes." Veena touched meaningly the bow and quiver of arrows, that hung
over her shoulder. "I can send an arrow straight as any man in the
tribe."

"But women are not supposed to go into battle."

"Why not? If the enemy feels an arrow in his body, does he stop to ask
whether a man shot it or a woman?"

"Well, I'll be jiggered!" cried Dan Carter, who had caught the drift of
this reply. "Talk about your modern girl! Why this Stone-Age maiden
belongs to the Twentieth Century!"

Veena blushed. She knew nothing about either "Stone-Age" or "Twentieth
Century" but she guessed that Dan was praising her and the color
mounted to the fair skin of her cheeks, while her blue eyes smiled with
pleasure.

"Please let me stay, O Master," she begged.

But Dick was not so easily led. "Nothing doing! Go back up the cliff.
And get a move on! You're supposed to be with Queen Vanga. This is no
place for girls!"

Veena might have argued with anybody else, but Tahara, the king and god
of the tribe, was not to be contradicted. Hastily she turned away and
ran like a deer to the trail that led up the cliffs.

"We've got to clear out of here right away," said Dick.

"The archers are not able to hold back the Arabs any longer," Dan
agreed.

"That's right. By this time they must have shot away all their arrows."

From the second line of defense, the Taharans were seen retreating,
singly or in pairs, while the Arabs, grown more cautious now, hesitated
to rush them, fearing another surprise.

"We can't hold the spring any longer," said Dick, and he gave the order
for a general retreat. In a few minutes, the trails were covered with
tribesmen, running nimbly to the rocky slopes.

They mounted them lightly as goats, and Dan Carter, though he was a
good climber, had to do his best to keep up with the slowest.

As for Dick, he remained among the las