the
pursuit had perhaps been abandoned, Frobisher glanced round. It was
well that he did so. The dogs had also left the forest, and, seeing
their prey in front of them, were running in silence. They were not
more than fifty yards distant, and, grasping his revolver, Frobisher
called to Drake, and together the two men turned to face the beasts.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

GENGHIZ KHAN'S HOARD.

Hideous brutes the dogs were, quite unlike the usual breed of
bloodhound, for they were fully as large as young leopards and every
whit as powerful and ferocious. They certainly possessed the drooping
ears and heavy loose jowl of the bloodhound, but their hides were not
smooth-haired, like the Cuban dog's, but rough and shaggy like a wolf's,
with which animal it is quite possible their forebears had been crossed.
Their legs were extremely long, but very massive and powerful, giving
them the power of covering great distances at high speed; and altogether
the appearance of the beasts was sufficient to inspire a very wholesome
terror in any unfortunate person on whose track they were placed. There
were, fortunately, only three of them, and as their masters had not yet
appeared in sight Frobisher and Drake hoped to be able to settle them
with their clubs and revolvers, and reach the shelter of the ruined city
before the pirates could overtake and recapture them.

No time was to be lost, however, for they were still at a considerable
distance from the nearest buildings on the outskirts of the city, while
the dogs' owners would probably be not very far behind, since they would
be certain to have come on horseback, so as to keep in reasonably close
touch with the hounds.

Drake drew his revolver from a fold of his voluminous Chinese jacket,
ranged himself alongside his friend, and, without a word, fired his
weapon at the first of the dogs, which by this time was almost upon
them. In his excitement, however, or perhaps because of the strain upon
his muscles from the long and fatiguing flight, he missed; and before he
could fire again the animal had sprung full at his throat, knocking him
down and sending the revolver flying out of his hand. In another second
Drake's throat would have been torn open by the savage, slavering beast,
but Frobisher was either cooler or more fortunate. Whirling himself
round right on top of the dog, he thrust his revolver's muzzle into its
ear and fired, at the moment when the terrible jaws were in the