The camels, fortunately tractable and docile, were made to lie in the trench, while, to be perfectly sure that they would not stampede and leave the fugitives in the lurch, Hugh fastened their halters together. "Now we're fairly comfortable," continued the correspondent, as he placed his reserve of cartridges by his side. "Those fellows won't keep firing long, I fancy. When they make a rush for it, wait till they are the length of a cricket pitch off, then let them have it with some of these stones. Ah! That was a close one!" A bullet clipped the edge of his _burnous_, while two others knocked chips off the rock behind which the three fugitives were sheltering. "We can stand plenty of that," continued Reeves. "I only hope they won't wait till the sun gets up, or we'll be baked in this hole." Suddenly there was a dull thud, like that of a stone striking a sack of corn. One of the camels had incautiously raised its head, and had received a shot in the throat. It gave a strange sort of cry--half-groan, half-shriek--stretched its long neck on the ground, and closed its patient-looking eyes. "That's awkward," remarked Reeves. "If this goes on, it will end in our having to tramp to the river." He spoke calmly, unwilling to alarm his charges, but the loss of a hierie could not be too highly taken into account. For quite a quarter of an hour the Arabs maintained a desultory fire, holding their antiquated weapons with the utmost deliberation, and firing from a distance of less than one hundred yards. Reeves particularly noticed that the "missfires" were few and far between, the great breadth of the Arabs' flints emitting such a large spark that the priming rarely failed to take fire. All this while the defenders lay low within their natural fortress. Reeves was unwilling to fire a shot in reply, lest the Arabs should fear to close, and instead ride off for additional assistance. That would have been fatal for the Englishmen. Stern necessity decreed that it should be a fight to the death for one side. Presently the Arabs dismounted, and, leaving their camels without any attempt to secure them, worked their way round behind the rock. Reeves gave a low whistle--a thing he always did when annoyed. "They'll be able to rush us easier that way," he exclaimed; "but it can't be helped. Got plenty of stones? Good! Now, look out!" The Arabs, still maintaining a respectful distance, continued firing, their bullets whizzing by the side of the rock, as if they meant to frighten the Kafirs before rushing in upon them. Cautiously Reeves and the two lads crept close to the base of their towering shelter. "They'll close after the next volley," said the correspondent calmly. "See that fellow with the red belt? You tackle him, Rags. Gerald, you must have a shot at that amiable-looking gentleman with the grey beard. His spear looks particularly annoying. Now, keep cool; imagine you're bowling with your first eleven."