s head was the only object that
broke the uniformity of the wall. In desperation, Mariano lay down with
it between himself and the advancing sentinel, and crept close to it--so
close that while he lay there he fancied that a drop of something cold
fell from it and mingled with the perspiration that stood in large beads
upon his brow!

The sentinel stopped just as Mariano was preparing to spring upon and
endeavour to strangle him. He looked earnestly and long in the
direction of the dead man's head, as if in meditation on its owner's
untimely fate, or, possibly, on the unusual length and solidity of the
shadow that tailed away from it!

Fortunately he advanced no further, but, turning on his heel, walked
slowly away. Just then the moon shot forth a ray of light from the
midst of the cloud that had covered it, as if to cheer the fugitive on
his desperate adventure. Instead of cheering, however, it alarmed him,
and expedited his movements.

In a moment Mariano put a loop of his rope over the head and drew it
tight on the spike close to the masonry. Another moment and he was over
the parapet, down the wall, and into the ditch. Here again unusual
caution was needful, but the youth's cat-like activity enabled him to
overcome all obstacles. In a few minutes he was speeding over the Sahel
hills in the direction of Frais Vallon.

We need scarcely say that wind and muscle were tried to their uttermost
that night. In an incredibly short space of time he reached the gate of
the consul's garden, which stood open, and darted in.

Now it chanced that night that the stout British seaman, Ted Flaggan,
lay in a hammock suspended between two trees in a retired part of the
consul's garden, the weather being so warm that not only he but several
of the other domestics had forsaken their dwellings during the night,
and lay about the grounds in various contrivances more or less
convenient, according to the fancy or mechanical aptitude of the makers
thereof.

Flaggan had, out of pure good-will, slung a primitive hammock similar to
his own between two trees near him for his friend Rais Ali, in which the
valiant Moor lay sound asleep, with his prominent brown nose pointing
upwards to the sky, and his long brown legs hanging over the sides. Ted
himself lay in a wakeful mood. He had fought unsuccessfully for some
hours against a whole army of mosquitoes, and now, having given in,
allowed the savage insects to devour him unchecked.