“He cannot see us in his flight!”
“He will see us, though!” said the doctor, lowering the flame of his
blow-pipe.
“But how?”
“In five minutes we shall be within fifty feet of the ground, and in
fifteen we shall be right over him!”
“We must let him know it by firing a gun!”
“No! he can’t turn back to come this way. He’s headed off!”
“What shall we do, then?”
“We must wait.”
“Wait?—and these Arabs!”
“We shall overtake them. We’ll pass them. We are not more than two
miles from them, and provided that Joe’s horse holds out!”
“Great God!” exclaimed Kennedy, suddenly.
“What is the matter?”
Kennedy had uttered a cry of despair as he saw Joe fling himself to the
ground. His horse, evidently exhausted, had just fallen headlong.
“He sees us!” cried the doctor, “and he motions to us, as he gets upon
his feet!”
“But the Arabs will overtake him! What is he waiting for? Ah! the brave
lad! Huzza!” shouted the sportsman, who could no longer restrain his
feelings.
Joe, who had immediately sprung up after his fall, just as one of the
swiftest horsemen rushed upon him, bounded like a panther, avoided his
assailant by leaping to one side, jumped up behind him on the crupper,
seized the Arab by the throat, and, strangling him with his sinewy
hands and fingers of steel, flung him on the sand, and continued his
headlong flight.
A tremendous howl was heard from the Arabs, but, completely engrossed
by the pursuit, they had not taken notice of the balloon, which was now
but five hundred paces behind them, and only about thirty feet from the
ground. On their part, they were not twenty lengths of their horses
from the fugitive.
One of them was very perceptibly gaining on Joe, and was about to
pierce him with his lance, when Kennedy, with fixed eye and steady
hand, stopped him short with a ball, that hurled him to the earth.
Joe did not even turn his head at the report. Some of the horsemen
reined in their barbs, and fell on their faces in the dust as they
caught sight of the _Victoria;_ the rest continued their pursuit.
“But what is Joe about?” said Kennedy; “he don’t stop!”
“He’s doing better than that, Dick! I understand him! He’s keeping on
in the same direction as the balloon. He relies upon our intelligence.
Ah! the noble fellow! We’ll carry him off in the very teeth of those
Arab rascals! We are not more than two hundred paces from him!”
“What are we to do?” asked Kennedy.
“Lay aside your rifle, Dick.”
And the Scot obeyed the request at once.
“Do you think that you can hold one hundred and fifty pounds of ballast
in your arms?”
“Ay, more than that!”
“No! That will be enough!”
And the doctor proceeded to pile up bags of sand in Kennedy’s arms.
“Hold yourself in readiness in the back part of the car, and be
prepared to throw out that ballast at a single effort. But, for your
life, don’t do so until I give the word!”
“Be easy on that point.”
“Otherwise, we should miss Joe, and he would be lost.”
“Count upon me!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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