第 3 页

A dense shower of spears cut down more than one brave Arab and Somali, and caused a partial cessation of the rifle fire. This was the signal for a furious rush on the part of the enemy.

Some must have had other weapons than spears and swords, for a pistol flashed at close range, and with the sharp crack Godfrey reeled and fell at the very feet of Arthur and Roden.

The next instant half a score of hideous dervishes had a foothold, on top of the ramparts. The camp was doomed.

At this critical moment, when they had just lost their brave leader, the defenders of the camp had good ground for despair.

* * *

Chapter IV

Yet it chanced otherwise, for Godfrey's fall seemed to rouse them to a pitch of fury and valor.

Arabs and Somalis gallantly mounted the sand ram parts, and repelled the invaders with clubbed rifles.

Arthur and Roden scarcely heeded the furious hand-to-hand conflict that was raging in front of them. In bitter anguish of heart they bent over their prostrate friend, and called him by name.

"No use," groaned Arthur; "he is dead."

"But I can't find the wound!" exclaimed Roden; "and there is not a drop of blood."

Just then, to the amazement and delight of the boys, Godfrey opened his eyes, and staggered dizzily to his feet.

"What's wrong?" he muttered. "Ah! I remember now. There was a pistol shot, and I felt a stunning pain over my heart."

He unbuttoned his jacket, and pulled out a gold medal that was secured by a string around his neck.

"Look here," he added, and the boys saw that the medal was deeply indented and bent.

"It saved your life!" exclaimed Arthur.

"Yes," replied Godfrey; "the ball struck the medal and glanced off. I was stunned for a moment or two, but I feel all right now. Come on, lads; we can't skulk here any longer."

He picked up his rifle and dashed to the ramparts, followed by his companions. The arrival of the little party greatly cheered the defenders. The dervishes were pressing on as hotly as ever, and along the entire semicircle of the camp a desperate struggle was taking place at close quarters.

The night rang with fierce shouts, and the clash of steel, and the heavy thud of rifle butts.

The boys had no time to think of fear. With admirable coolness, they parried thrusts of spear and sword, and dealt deadly blows at the dusky bodies of the foe.

Yet it seemed only a question of time when the camp would be overpowered and its occupants cut to pieces. In overwhelming numbers the dervishes pressed on. Here and there an Arab or a Somali went down, stricken to death.

But just at the most desperate time, when the de fenders had begun to waver and fall back, curious intervention put an end to hostilities —- at least, temporarily.

It happened in this way: The camels, it will be remembered, had been left under a small escort at the base of the sand ridge. They had traveled many hours without water, and were intensely thirsty. They endured the tantalizing sight and smell of the river as long as possible. Then patience ceased to be a virtue, and they broke into a mad stampede.

As the herd came thundering toward the camp, the dervishes, having no desire to be trampled to death, abandoned the attack, and fled confusedly.

The screaming animals came almost to the ramparts before they swerved aside. Then they took a diagonal course for the river, and gained the shore about sixty yards up stream.

The affair was over in brief time, and the imperiled little band found themselves at liberty to breathe freely. This defense had cost them dear. Three Arabs and two Somalis lay dead, and almost as many were wounded more or less severely.

Outside the camp lay fully a score of dead and dying foes, and their groans of agony were heartrending.

Mugdi and Khalifa set the men at work to repair the trodden ramparts, and then a plentiful supply of am munition was distributed to all hands.

"We owe our lives to the camels," said Godfrey. "This won't save us from another attack, though."

"If we could keep the dervishes from coming to close quarters we would be all right," replied Arthur.,

"True," admitted Godfrey, "and that shall be our aim. We have taught the rascals a severe lesson, and hardly think they will be so valorous the next time."

The work of preparation went busily on, and, meanwhile, the enemy held aloof. The fluttering battle standards marked where a large number were congregated over by the hill. Others surrounded the vast herd of camels, and drove them slowly back from the river.

"They've got our camels, too," exclaimed Roden angrily.

"So they have," muttered Godfrey. "It can't be helped, lad. We'll be lucky to get out of this scrape with our lives."

In the face of the certain ruin that threatened the expedition, the boys cared little for worse evils. It was bitterly hard to have their hopes blasted at so early a stage of the journey.

Godfrey divined their thoughts, but be was unable to offer any substantial consolation. Indeed, he as sumed far more cheerfulness than he really felt. Past experience had shown him what was to be feared from the terrible "Fuzzies."

"Make ready," suddenly cried Khalifa. "The enemy are coming."

There was an instant sally to the ramparts, but the alarm proved to have only a partial foundation. From out the dark, huddled mass of the dervishes emerged a single figure bearing a fluttering strip of white cloth attached to a spear.

The envoy fearlessly advanced to within twenty feet of the camp. Then be paused, and the silvery moonlight showed him to he an Egyptian. He wore high riding boots, a scarlet fez, and a gray uniform slashed with red. His sinister, olive-colored face was shaded by a black mustache.

Godfrey leaned forward and took a long look at the stranger. Then he started back with a hoarse gasp of amazement.

"Safid Pasha!" he cried. "Is it really you? I thought you had perished at Khartoum with Gordon. I might have known better. Such black-hearted scoundrels as you can always find a loophole from death. To turn traitor was your natural destiny."

"As insolent as ever, Godfrey Candon," retorted the Egyptian. "I thought my pistol ball had found its way to your heart a little while past. But I can afford to be magnanimous to a defenseless foe ——"

"Enough of parleying," sternly interrupted Godfrey. "What do you want?"

"I have come to offer you liberal terms of surrender," replied Safid Pasha. "If you lay down your arms and submit, you shall go unharmed to Khartoum. There you will be given a chance to enlist under the new ruler of the Soudan —- ; the successor of El Mahdi, whom I have the honor to serve.

"Do you think to deceive me with such lies?!' cried Godfrey. "Rather would I trust to the mercy of a hungry tiger. Begone, scoundrel, or that white rag shall not protect you longer."

"You will change your tune ere long, my friend," said Safid Pasha mockingly. "A still larger force of dervishes are in my rear, and will arrive here before daylight. I will give you half an hour to decide. If you then refuse my terms not one of you shall escape.

With this the Egyptian turned on his heel and strode swiftly back to his companions.

The boys were curious to know the meaning of what had just transpired.

"Who is the fellow?" asked Roden.

"The most infamous scoundrel that ever went unhung," replied Godfrey. "When I knew Safid Pasha at Cairo in 1884, he was an officer of the Khedive's army. He picked a quarrel with me, and tried to assassinate me in the dark. Later on he went to Khartoum with General Gordon, and was believed to have perished there, when El Mahdi took the city."

"If he turned traitor at such a time his word is not to be trusted," said Arthur. "Do you think he is deceiving us about reinforcements?"

"I hope so," answered Godfrey. "Yet in this case he may be truthful. We are in a tight place, my lads, and no denying it. Were I convinced that Safid Pasha's offer was genuine, I would accept it, and trust to making our escape at the first opportunity."

"If he meant it why did he not make the offer before the attack?" suggested Arthur.

"Ay, that's what proves his insincerity" said Godfrey. "I am convinced that if we surrender we will be immediately cut to pieces. Our only chance lies in fighting our level best and holding out against a siege."

Godfrey managed to infuse his words with a ring of hope that partly cheered the boys. But they had an unforeseen element to reckon with in the shape of dis satisfaction among their own men. Safid Pasha's offer soon became the subject of angry dispute and wrangling among Arabs and Somalis.

They were quickly divided into two equal parties under the leadership of Mahdi and Khalifa, who held opposing views.

The former argued hotly in favor of surrender, holding that in case of a refusal all would ultimately be slaughtered by force of numbers.

Khalifa, on the other band, denounced Safid Pasha as a liar, and begged the men to refuse the terms and fight stubbornly.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Godfrey threw his influence in the scale. But he could scarcely obtain a hearing, and his eloquence was wasted on the air.

From words the hostile factions came to threats, and rifles and pistols were brandished freely. The two parties fell back to opposite sides of the camp, and a bloody fight seemed imminent. But the crisis was reached when the fiery-tempered Khalifa strode forward and spat deliberately in Mugdi's face.

"By Allah!" he cried scornfully, "it were better for such a coward to turn hewer of wood and drawer of water. You have the heart of a dog."

At this deadly insult —- about the worst that can be offered an Arab —- Mugdi's visage assumed the ferocity of a tiger. With a scream of rage he whirled out a great two-edged sword and dashed at Khalifa.

* * *

Chapter V

But the latter was on the alert, and dodged the first blow. Then out flashed his weapon, and at Mugdi's second stroke there was the ringing clash of steel.

Now the combatants settled down to cool, determined work. A space was cleared around them, and on opposite sides stood the sympathizers of each, waiting the result with rapt attention. Godfrey and the two lads looked on from a little distance.

The fighters were well matched, and neither allowed passion to interfere with his dexterity. For a minute or two they dodged warily about, making infrequent and futile thrusts.

Then they came to closer quarters, and the clash of steel was incessant. Sparks flew at every stroke. As yet no blood was drawn. It was wonderful to see how each parried the cuts of his antagonist.

With breathless interest the progress of the struggle was watched. A number of the dervishes, quite unobserved, drew near enough to get a fairly good view. There could have been no better opportunity for an attack, but the enemy, strange to say, did not take advantage of it.

Except for the set of his lips Godfrey was quite impassive, but a very volcano of emotions was burning at his heart. He well understood the real significance of the duel, and the momentous results that hung upon it.

"They can't last much longer," he whispered to the boy. "See, they are growing reckless and excited. God grant that Khalifa will be the victor. Otherwise the tide will turn in Mugdi's favor, and immediate surrender to the enemy will be the result."

"Can't we stop the fight?" exclaimed Roden. "One of the two will surely be killed."

"Impossible," replied Godfrey. "If we dared to interfere our lives would pay the penalty. This is not a common fight, remember. It is a duel according to the Arab principles of honor."

"It is a horrible sight, anyhow," said Arthur, with a shiver of disgust. "If they don't finish quickly, Safid Pasha will be back for his answer."

"Yes," assented Roden, "the half hour must be up now, and —- oh! look! —- look there!"

At that instant Khalifa made so furious an onset that his adversary wavered, and was forced back a pace or two.

Then all that saved Mugdi was a spring to one side, and so dexterously and swiftly did he make it that his enemy's weapon struck deep into the sand. A low, eager murmur ran through the spectators.

Now Mugdi had the advantage, and he was quick as lightning to use it. With a ferocious cry he whirled around and struck at Khalifa. The latter, being off his guard, met the blow but feebly, and his weapon went spinning out of his hands.

For a fraction of a second the defenseless man confronted his terrible opponent. He would have sought safety in flight, but it was too late.

With merciless intent Mugdi swung his great sword on high, and down it hissed with unerring aim, cleaving its way into Khalifa's skull, and rending in two head, nose, and chin until it finally rested in the thick muscles of the neck.

Yells of blended rage and satisfaction burst from the witnesses of the horrid deed. A bloody fight seemed imminent.

Quick as Khalifa fell Mugdi sprang upon the body, and tore the reeking sword free from the wound. Swinging it overhead he turned mockingly to the supporters of the dead man, fearless of their hostile looks.

"What say you now?" he cried. "Are there more who court the same fate? Do ye still refuse to listen to the merciful words of Safid Pasha? Is death better than service under the standard of the Mahdi at Khartoum?"

There was a moment of hesitation. Not thus easily was the eloquence of Khalifa forgotten, though his mangled body lay on the sand.

But Mugdi was alive and defiant, and in the end he achieved a second victory. It came about just as Godfrey had said. The two factions mingled in friendly accord, crying aloud:

"Yes, let us surrender; let us trust to the mercy of Safid Pasha."

With bitter feelings Godfrey and his companions saw the destruction of their last hope. They knew it was useless to appeal further to the mutineers. Their blood boiled with indignation when a strip of white cloth was tied to a gun barrel and mounted on top of the ramparts.

The signal was at once perceived by the enemy, nor were they slow to understand its meaning. In ominous silence the horde of dervishes bore down upon the camp.

"Look," cried Arthur. "All will be over in a few moments. Are you sure, Godfrey, that Safid Pasha is not to be trusted?"

"I will answer for it with my life," replied the Englishman. "I know him only too well."