did not last long and Simon had an impression that the
rain of gold was less abundant. But it exercised no less attraction
upon those whose work it was to collect it and upon others who, no
longer encouraged by their leader's voice, were abandoning the
barricades.

"Look," said Antonio. "The attacks are becoming fiercer. The enemy
feels that the besieged are losing hold."

The slope was invaded from every side; and small bodies of men pushed
forward, more numerous and bolder as the firing became less intense.
The machine-gun, whether abandoned or destroyed, was no longer in
action. The chief's accomplices, who had stood in front of the
platform, finding themselves unable to enforce their authority and
restore discipline, leapt into the arena and ran to the trenches. They
were the most resolute of the defenders. The assailants hesitated.

So, for two hours, fortunes of the fight swayed to and fro. When night
fell, the battle was still undecided.

Simon and Antonio, seeing the wreck deserted, collected the necessary
arms and provisions. They intended to prepare for flight at midnight,
if circumstances permitted. Antonio went off to reconnoitre, while
Simon watched over the repose of his two patients.

Lord Bakefield, although fit to travel, was still badly pulled down
and slept, though his sleep was disturbed by nightmares. But Simon's
presence restored to Isabel all her energy, all her vitality. Sitting
side by side, holding each other's hands, they told the story of those
tragic days; and Isabel spoke of all that she had suffered, of
Rolleston's cruelty, of his coarse attentions to her, of the constant
threat of death which he held over Lord Bakefield if she refused to
yield, of the nightly orgies in camp, the bloodshed, the tortures, the
cries of the dying and the laughter of Rolleston's companions. . . .

She shuddered at certain recollections, nestling against Simon as
though she feared to find herself once more alone. All around them was
the flash of fire-arms and the rattle of shots which seemed to be
coming nearer. A din at once confused and terrific, made up of a
hundred separate combats, death-struggles and victories, hovered above
the dark plain, over which, however, a pale light appeared to be
spreading.

Antonio returned in an hour's time and declared that flight was
impossible:

"Half the trenches," he said, "are in the hands of the assailants, who
have even penetrated into the enclosure. And they