The question was answered almost as it occurred. Tom suddenly noticed a horseman making towards him from the left, followed closely by a dozen others. It was with a gasp of amazement that he recognized in the foremost rider no other than Abdul. He came up at a breakneck pace, sprang from his horse, and joined himself to the fugitives. Immediately afterwards the Moors were upon the little party. Leaping from their horses while still in full career, they threw themselves upon the four, and though Tom and Oliphant each with a blow from his fist felled a man, and Schwab threatened the vengeance of the Kaiser, they were overwhelmed and flung to the ground. The Moors shouted with exultation, their cries being answered jubilantly by the horsemen coming up from the ravine. They were beginning to bind their captives; but before a single knot could be tied there came other shouts from the direction of the sea. “At them, men; bowl ’em over!” Surely this was the voice of Mr. Greatorex! A lusty British cheer answered him. With a great effort Tom threw off the Moor who was pinning him down, and sprang to his feet in time to see a dozen sturdy seamen rushing from the edge of the cliff. The Moors turned at bay, but nothing could withstand the charge of the British tars, wielding their clubbed rifles like flails. In a few seconds half of the Moors were on the ground with more or less broken heads; the rest were in full flight. But the other troop of horsemen was now not more than a few hundred yards distant. At a word from Captain Bodgers the sailors flung themselves face downwards, ready to deal with the second band. “Aim at the horses!” cried Mr. Greatorex, as he came panting up in the rear of his men, and flopped down beside them. A scattered volley brought half a dozen of the advancing horsemen to the dust. The rest, unable, owing to the rugged uneven ground, to see with what force they had to contend, reined up and hesitated. Another volley caused them to draw off to some little distance, where they formed a group and began to discuss how to retrieve this unexpected check. “Now for the boat, my lads!” cried Mr. Greatorex. Up sprang the men, and the whole body made a dash down the cliff. Before the Moors had agreed upon their course, the fugitives were half-way down. Seeing now by how few men they had been checked, the Moors came after them at full speed. But by the time they reached the edge of the cliff and dismounted the fugitives were at the bottom. At that moment there was a report and a puff of smoke out at sea, and a shot, purposely aimed high, flew over the cliff, and fell a little to the rear of the Moors. That was the finishing stroke. Their horses stampeded and dashed straight for the ravine, the riders in wild pursuit behind them. Three minutes afterwards Mr. Greatorex had his whole party in the boat, and the sailors, with a final rousing cheer, pulled for the yacht.