ace and began to run
with quick, loping gait after the fugitive, calling out something in a
high, piercing voice as he ran.

In his college days Anstice had been somewhat of an athlete; and
although he had long since relinquished any sporting ambitions which he
might once have cherished, he had reason to bless his own turn of speed,
which, being a natural and not an acquired gift, did not fail him now.

But never in his life had he run as he was running to-night. Apart from
any consideration of his own personal safety he was running for the
safety of others--of one in particular; for he knew only too well how
pitifully small was the force which held the beleaguered Fort; and
though in itself his life might be of little value, as a bulwark between
Iris Cheniston and her enemies it had a value all its own; and must not
be relinquished without a fierce and determined struggle.

On and on he ran, the blood drumming in his ears, the goat-skin pounding
maddeningly about his shoulders. But even could he have brought himself
to fling away the precious water for which he had cheerfully risked his
life, he could not spare time to unfasten the skin slung across his
back; and he raced swiftly onward, cursing the loose sand which now and
again threatened to trip him up, not daring to look back until he had
lessened the distance to the Fort by a considerable amount.

Then, casting a sharp glance over his shoulder, he saw that the Bedouin
was gaining upon him, his long, tireless stride, which resembled that of
a greyhound, swallowing the ground with little apparent effort; and
Anstice's quick mind realized that, fine runner as he knew himself to
be, he was outclassed by this native athlete.

"All right, Dorando," he muttered grimly, half-aloud, as he checked
himself for a second in his race. "I can't outrun you, but I'm damned if
I don't put a bullet through you all the same."

And pulling out his revolver he whisked about, so quickly that the other
had no time to realize his intention; and taking definite aim at the
man's thigh he fired once, twice--with satisfactory results, inasmuch
as the other uttered a sharp cry, spun round once or twice and fell in a
heap on the sand, incapable of further movement.

For a second Anstice paused, innate humanity forbidding him to leave the
man alone in his agony; but the thought of Iris drove away such
weakness, and realizing that the noise of the shots must incite his foes
to immediate in