eir companions were hastily interred in the sand, and
their journey northward was once more resumed.

CHAPTER LVIII.

A CALL FOR TWO MORE.

The sufferings of the slaves for water and food again commenced, while
the pace at which they were compelled to travel, to keep up with the
camels, soon exhausted the little strength they had acquired from the
rest by the well.

During the long afternoon following the burial of the two Arabs, each of
the boy slaves at different times declared his utter inability to
proceed any farther.

They were mistaken; and had yet to learn something of the power which
love of life exerts over the body.

They knew that to linger behind would be death. They did not desire to
die, and therefore struggled on.

Like men upon a treadmill, they were compelled to keep on moving,
although neither able nor willing.

The hour of sunset found them wading through sand that had lately been
stirred by a storm. It was nearly as light and loose as snow; and the
toil of moving through it was so wearisome, that the mounted Arabs,
having some pity on those who had walked, halted early for the night.
Two men were appointed to guard the camp in the same manner as upon the
night before; and with the feelings of hunger and thirst partly
appeased, weary with the toils of day, our adventurers were soon in a
sound slumber. Around them, and half-buried in the soft sand, lay
stretched the other denizens of the douar, all slumbering likewise.

Their rest remained undisturbed until that darkest hour of the night,
just before the dawning of day. They were then startled from sleep by
the report of a musket,--a report that was immediately followed by
another in the opposite direction. The douar was instantly in wild
confusion.

The Arabs seized their weapons, and rushed forth from among the tents.

One of the party that ran in the direction in which the first shot was
heard, seeing a man coming towards them, in the excitement of the moment
fired his musket, and shot the individual who was advancing, who proved
to be one of those entrusted with the guard of the camp.

No enemies could be discovered. They had fled, leaving the two
camp-guards in the agonies of death.

Some of the Arabs would have rushed wildly hither and thither, in search
of the unseen foe, but were prevented by the sheik, who, fearing that
all would be lost, should the douar be deserted by the armed men,
shouted the signal for all his fo