ir comrades when they
became tired.

The Arabs had no such advantage.

They began to thin terribly.

But still they fought on with unabated vigour, and succeeded in
preventing the enemy surrounding their encampment, and enclosing them
in.

Kara-al-Zariel was ever in the thickest and most perilous part of the
contest, encouraging his men with his presence.

He performed prodigies of valour, and his long hiltless Arab sabre was
stained deeply with the blood of his foes.

The diver and the waiter both showed themselves skilful and valorous in
fighting, and if Mole and Figgins failed to distinguish themselves so
much, and preferred the more modest and retiring rearguard of the army,
we must consider the weak nerves of one and the wooden legs of the
other.

Bogey and Tinker were in their element, and their African blood spurred
them on to deeds of bravery sometimes even approaching barbarity.

Thyra, stationed on horseback in the rear, had in her a spirit of
heroism, which of her own will, would have led her to the very front of
the battle.

But the entreaties of the chief and of Jack induced her to restrain her
valour, and remain in a position of comparative safety from which she
could see all that went on, and discharge a pistol when she saw a
chance of bringing down a foe.

But by degrees the Arabs ranks were broken.

Their numbers where fearfully diminished, and no efforts of theirs
seemed to make any perceptible diminution of that of the enemy.

So the chief resolved upon a retreat.

But ere this could be effected, the Turks succeeded in placing a large
contingent in a position to intercept them.

"We must cut through them, or we are lost," exclaimed the chief.

The war-cry of the Arabs was again raised.

They dashed at a portion of the living ring that surrounded them.

They cut their way through the circling mass of steel.

CHAPTER LXXXVII.

STILL THE BATTLE RAGES.

At that moment Kara-al-Zariel's horse received a mortal wound, and sank
beneath the chief.

He fell heavily, and narrowly escaped being trampled to death by his
own advancing men.

But procuring another steed, he again led the van.

Jack Harkaway had already had two horses killed under him.

He was disfigured by blood and smoke, and dizzy with weariness and
excitement, but he still fought like a lion, for it was for life.

The task of breaking through the Turkish ranks was a terrible one.

Many Arabs fell dead in