ust of the lower trail a troop of Mongolian horsemen,
riding high in their jeweled saddles, swept into the square, shouting.
Lashing their horses, they drove into the gathering with the fury of
Cossacks.

Peter was thrown to one side by a tall man whom he had taken for a
peasant. He tugged at his pocket, but the coolie was fighting his way
toward the horsemen.

Indifferent to her struggles and screams, this giant carried Eileen in
naked, brawny arms.

Peter leaped after, shouting and cursing at those who stood in his way.
Some one tripped him. He regained his footing, shot his fist into the
jaw of an argumentative youth, and struggled on.

The onlookers were scattering with loud and frightened squeals, running
into one another, gathering in bewildered groups, darting for doorways,
like sheep attacked by a wolf pack.

Then a black horse swept so close to Peter that the stirrup stripped
the buttons from his tunic. A heavy whip stung him across the
shoulders.

When he recovered from this blow the struggling girl was yards away,
still struggling, but no longer screaming. She had been transferred to
the arms of a giant Mongol, who evidently was the leader of this pack.

Peter whipped out the automatic and let go a burst at the horseman who
now blocked his way; and the Mongolian, in the act of lifting a knife
from its holster-scabbard, dipped across the animal's flank, with his
eyes rolling toward heaven, his foot caught in one stirrup.

The horse, frightened, leaped up and spun about, twisting the fallen
rider about his heels. And Peter had clear way for another few feet.

Another horseman swept down upon him. Peter brought the gun up and
brought it down with fury. Twice he shot, and then this interference
was removed.

The troops were gathering into crude formation, evidently for another
charge. Eileen had disappeared.

Peter, knowing that she was somewhere in that quadrangle of rearing
horses, struck forward, stumbling over fallen bodies, slipping in mud.
His lungs burned, and he choked in a consuming rage. And suddenly he
heard her scream his name.

The leader of the desert pack held her across his saddle, with his
mighty arms pinioning her. He saw Peter, shouted, jabbed down with his
spurs, and his mount fairly leaped. The others wheeled gracefully, and
they vanished in thunder toward the plain.

Peter discovered the horse of one of the fallen warriors and leaped to
capture him.

And in the