head, for I will not go without thee. Yet if thou hidest from me, I will
blow up the gate."

Victoria did not answer, but looked at the ruined tower. One of its
walls and part of another stood firm, and she could not see Stephen in
the heliographing-chamber at the top. But through a crack between the
adobe bricks she caught a gleam of light, which moved. It was Stephen's
lantern, she knew. He was still there. Farther down, the crack widened.
On his way back, he would see her, if she were still on the wall above
the gate. She wished that he need not learn she was there, lest he lose
his nerve in making that terrible descent. But every one else knew that
she was trying to save the gate, and that while she remained, the fuse
would not be lighted. Saidee, who had come out from the dining-room into
the courtyard, could see her on the wall, and Rostafel was babbling that
she was "une petite lionne, une merveille de courage et de finesse." The
Highlanders knew, too, and were doing their best to rid her of
Maieddine, but, perhaps because of the superstition which made them
doubt the power of their bullets against a charmed life, they could not
kill him, though his cloak was pierced, and his face burned by a bullet
which had grazed his cheek. Suddenly, however, to the girl's surprise
and joy, Maieddine turned and ran like a deer toward the firing line of
the Arabs. Then, as the bullets of Hamish and Angus spattered round
him, he wheeled again abruptly and came back towards the bordj as if
borne on by a whirlwind. With a run, he threw himself towards the gate,
and leaping up caught at the spikes for handhold. He grasped them
firmly, though his fingers bled, got a knee on the wall, and freeing a
hand snatched at Victoria's dress.

LI

Saidee, down in the courtyard, shrieked as she saw her sister's danger.
"Fire!--wound him--make him fall!" she screamed to Rostafel. But to fire
would be at risk of the girl's life, and the Frenchman danced about
aimlessly, yelling to the men in the watch-towers.

In the tower, Stephen heard a woman's cry and thought the voice was
Victoria's. His work was done. He had signalled for help, and, though
this apparatus was a battered stable lantern, a kitchen-lamp reflector,
and a hand-mirror, he had got an answer. Away to the north, a man whom
perhaps he would never see, had flashed him back a message. He could not
understand all, for it is easier to send than to receive signals; but
there