lloy,
with difficulty accommodating his words to a foreigner. "We'll starve
if we go adrift on the desert with nothin' to eat or drink."

"Here--food," said Mohammed, unslinging a well-filled haversack from his
shoulders and transferring it to those of the sailor. "Stop there," he
continued, pointing to the cellar, "till you hears guns--shoot--noise.
I have make prep'rations! After that, silence. Then, com out, an' go
_home_." Once again he pointed towards the glowing star in the
north-east.

"Mohammed," exclaimed Molloy, becoming suddenly impressed with the
generous nature of the Arab's action, "I don't know as you're a
descendant o' the Prophet, but I do know that you're a brick. Give us
your flipper before we part!"

With a grave expression of kindliness and humour the chief shook hands
with the seaman. Then the captives all descended into the hole, which
was not more than four feet deep, after which the Arab shut the trap,
covered it as before with a little rubbish, and went away.

"Suppose he has bolted the door!" suggested Moses.

"Hold your tongue, man, and listen for the signal," said Miles.

"I forget what he said the signal was to be," observed Simkin.

"Guns--shoot--noise--after that silence!" said Armstrong. "It's a queer
signal."

"But not difficult to recognise when we hear it," remarked Miles.

The time seemed tremendously long as they sat there listening--the
cellar was too low for them to stand--and they began to fancy that all
kinds of horrible shapes and faces appeared in the intense darkness
around them. When they listened intensely, kept silent, and held their
breath, their hearts took to beating the drums of their ears, and when a
sudden breath or sigh escaped it seemed as if some African monster were
approaching from the surrounding gloom.

"Is that you, Simkin, that's breathin' like a grampus?" asked Molloy,
after a long pause.

"I was just goin' to ask you to stop snorin'," retorted the soldier.

"Hush! There's a shot!"

It was indeed a distant shot, followed immediately by several more.
Then a rattle of musketry followed--nearer at hand.

Instantly, as if the earth had just given birth to them, the host of
dusky warriors sprang up with yells of surprise and defiance, and, spear
in hand, rushed in the direction of the firing. For a few minutes the
listeners in the cellar heard as it had been a mighty torrent surging
past the ruined hut. Gradually the force of the rus