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d at a bound with this further adventure, and he began to rejoice somewhat prematurely in his triumph over Carlyon's caution. The man who had come to his assistance kept at his elbow throughout the climb. Not a word was spoken. The men moved like cats through the dimness. Below them was a confused din of rifle-firing. Their advance had evidently not been detected. "Silly owls! Wasting their ammunition!" murmured Derrick to the man beside him. He received no response. A warning hand closed with a grip on his elbow. And Derrick subsided. When the moon rose, magnificent and glowing from behind the mountains, Derrick and his men looked down from a high perch on the hillside, and watched a furious party of tribesmen charge and occupy their abandoned position. "Now, this is good!" said Derrick, and he was in the act of firing his revolver into the thick of the crowd below him when again the sinewy hand of his unknown friend checked him. "Hold your fire, man!" the man said, in his quiet, unmoved voice. "You will want it presently." But the stranger's hold tightened. He was standing in the shadow slightly behind Derrick. "Wait!" he said. "They will find you soon enough. You are not in a position to take the offensive." Derrick swung round with a restless word. And then he pulled up short. He was facing a tribesman, gaunt and tall, with odd, light eyes that glittered strangely in the moonlight. Derrick stared at the apparition, dumbfounded. After a pause the man took his hand from the correspondent's arm. "Don't give the show away for want of a little caution!" he said. "There are your men to think of, remember. This is no picnic." Derrick was still staring hard at the strange figure before him. "I say," he said at length, "what in the name of wonder are you?" He heard a faint, contemptuous laugh. The unknown drew the end of his _chuddah_ farther across his face. "You are marvellously guileless for a war correspondent," he said. And he turned on his heel and stalked away into the shadows. Derrick stood gazing after him in stupefaction. "A Secret Service agent, is he?" he murmured at length to himself. "By Jove! What a marvellous fake! On Carlyon's business, I suppose. Confound Carlyon! I'll tell him what I think of him if I come through this all right." Carlyon, in times of peace, was one of Derrick Rose's most intimate friends. That Carlyon, upon whom he relied as upon a tower of strength s
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