gainst whom they
are pitted, and feel sure this is only the beginning. What the end may
be only Heaven knows.

The breathing spell is occupied by them in reloading. Lady Ruth and Aunt
Gwen arise to the occasion, and beg to be allowed to do anything that
falls in their line. If there was only a spare weapon, the English girl
declares she could easily load it, but it happens they have none.

Once more breaks out the noise of battle. Whatever may have been the
original plans of Bab Azoun and his men, they have long since been
forgotten. Revenge is the leading fact in their minds now, revenge for
what has been done on this night.

An Arab is a good hater, especially if the object of his animosity be a
Christian dog, an unbeliever. Nothing can be too cruel to inflict upon
such a foe.

Those within the tomb have aroused the worst passions of the robbers,
and can look for no mercy.

The engagement is bitter, indeed, for the Arabs have separated, and
creep upon the place on all sides. They discover the weakness of the
roof, and bend their energies toward crushing this in.

There is a hot scene, and more than one of the sailants feel the breath
of flying lead, together with the sudden sting that tells of a burning
wound.

It would be hard to say how the affair might have terminated were the
original combatants allowed to carry it to a conclusion, for both sides
are desperate, and one of them would have to win.

John has not been without hope. He believes the French zouaves from the
Kasbah must long ere this have started on their secret march toward the
old mines of Metidja, and he feels sure the noise of battle must direct
them to the spot where the fierce engagement is in progress.

Men will fight like tigers when all they have in the world is at stake.
John is nerved to greater deeds of valor by the fact that Lady Ruth is
present. He shudders at the thought of her falling into the hands of
these wild desert rovers.

Finding their efforts to beat in the door useless, the assailants turn
their whole attention toward the roof. Great stones are hurled upon it,
and the chances of its holding out are few indeed.

When an opening is made a dark face appears at it, and the fellow
attempts to push his gun in so that he may fire. Before he can succeed,
Mustapha Cadi has leaped upward, and fastened his hand upon the man's
throat, and by the weight of his body pulls the fellow through.

Philander snatches up the gun with a