anything but stones, and uncertain, indeed, whether the Arab who
had last fired was still there or had shifted his quarters. And shots
were fired back, principally at the officer, who showed his head as he
peered about, trying to see how his men were getting on.

Meantime, the files on the flanks were climbing cunningly, Kavanagh
being one of the two men on the right, until they got rather above the
level of the Arabs in ambush, and a man on the left got the first shot.
The Arab was lying down, peering to his front, and afforded a steady
aim, not fifty yards off. It was almost impossible to miss him, unless
the marksman were flurried, and the soldier was as cool as if on parade,
and hit him in the back, between the shoulder-blades: that made two.

The last report showing they were enfiladed, three other Arabs bolted
from their hiding-places, and made for the higher ground. Bang! Bang!
Bang! Went the rifles from below and each side: there they were still,
active as monkeys, darting between and over the fantastic boulders;
bang! Bang! As they re-appeared, without effect. Then five rifles
exploding together, like a volley, as a retreating Arab paused, and
turned to fire a shot back; and this time the bullets found a billet,
for he sank down in a heap. The other two got away, in spite of the
leaden invitations to stop sent after them.

Directly the first flanking shot was heard, the officer in front cried
"Forward!" to the two men with him, Macintosh and the other, and all
three pushed up amongst the rocks. As they worked up higher, the
surface of the mountain side became so rugged that they could not keep
sight of each other, and hunt about in a satisfactory manner at the same
time. While firing was going on, indeed, they had a guide as to the
direction of their friends, but when that ceased, they were somewhat
more scattered and isolated than prudence dictated. But prudence is apt
to be forgotten in the excitement of a hunt, and a manhunt is the most
thrilling of all chases. They searched about, with bayonets fixed, and
fingers on trigger-guards, expecting an antagonist behind each new rock.

Kavanagh, making for a point where he last saw the end of a bernouse
vanishing, wandered further than the others, perhaps, and came suddenly
on a hole in the side of the rock. Not a natural fissure, but evidently
a man-made doorway; oval, with carved pillars at the sides, and an
inscription over the door. Kavanagh's