There was a long interval. Under stress of fear and hunger, Schwab was nearly demented. He walked about the cave, with his hands pressed hard upon the neighbourhood of the lowest button of his waistcoat, uttering guttural groans, making lugubrious appeals to the Homeland, and to a lady whom he called at one time Mrs. Bottle, at another “mein briddy Chain,” and ever and anon anathematizing Thomas Dorrell, “vat do nozink for me—for me, vat do so much for him viz Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six.” Abdul paid no heed to the German’s fumings and frettings, nor to the entreaties of Salathiel ben Ezra, who, stretched on his back, tied hand and foot, added to his prayers the most lavish promises if the Moor would only release him and help him to return to his own place. At last, Abdul, squatting silent and watchful just within the opening of the cave, saw a pair of legs dangling in front of him. Some of the enemy had, as he had foreseen, made their way to the top of the hill, and were about to attempt to reach the cave from above. It was a foolhardy proceeding, for they could only come singly, and the occupants of the cave could easily dispose of them. Indeed, Abdul surmised that the sheikh was trying an experiment, sending one of his men to draw the badger. However that may have been, the application of the point of Abdul’s knife to the calf of one of the dangling legs caused the owner of them to draw them hastily up and to swarm up the rope to which he was clinging, as a spider runs up his filmy thread when threatened by an enemy. Apparently the sheikh was satisfied that a direct assault, whether from above or below, was hopeless, for thenceforth the cave party were left in peace. But it was peace only externally. Even Abdul himself, who had hitherto preserved extraordinary composure, now showed signs of perturbation. What was the enemy doing? He dared not attempt to see, for he knew that if he showed his head it would be the target for a dozen bullets. Did the sheikh intend to starve them out? Their food was all gone; the tin of water was almost empty; it was impossible to get a fresh supply of either. Voices were heard from below; once Abdul heard an answering call from above; it appeared indeed as if the sheikh had resolved on an investment, knowing that sooner or later the occupants of the cave must yield or die. The day passed. Schwab fell into a sleep of exhaustion. Abdul remained sleepless, wondering why the Englishman had not reappeared with the airship, as he had said he would do. Had some mishap befallen him? Surely he had not wilfully deserted them! This Abdul refused to believe. When morning broke he ventured to go to the mouth of the cave and look out. The Moors were still below; apparently they had camped all night on the ground. They caught sight of Abdul, and mockingly invited him to share their cous-cousoo. He made no reply, and again withdrew into the shadow.