He caught the bridle of the girl’s horse, and cantered to where a little hillock afforded a rough entrenchment. "Don’t dismount, the hill covers you," he said, and plucked a carbine from his saddle bucket. He handed the reins of his horse to Sir Harry and swung to the ground. Hank followed him up the little hill, and Alicia heard them talking. "Four hundred?" said Hank. "A little farther I should say," said the Duke; "this air is wonderfully clear and deceptive." "We’ll give ’em five hundred," concluded Hank. "That will be nearer the mark," agreed the Duke. Very deliberately they adjusted the sights of their carbines. "I think," she heard the Duke say, "that the gentleman in the white night-shirt is some sort of leader." Hank raised his weapon. For a moment his cheek cuddled the stock and the slim barrel pointed at the invisible enemy. "Bang!" Her horse moved restlessly, and Sir Harry was all but unseated. "Bang!" The Duke fired. "Got him!" said Hank and waited. In a minute the two came running to their horses. "Gone to ground," said the Duke briefly, and sprang into the saddle. There was no sign of the brigand’s forces as they emerged from the sheltering hill. On the sandy slope of the ridge there was a little patch of white lying very still. The girl averted her eyes. The party now struck off to the right. "I had hoped," said the Duke, "to have entered Tangier by some other route than that." He pointed ahead to where a little clump of trees suggested a human habitation. "But isn’t this the nearest way," asked Alicia wonderingly. They could see the stretch of the Fez Road as it dipped and wound across the plain. "It is," said the Duke grimly. He did not tell her all—it seemed unnecessary. He had learnt something of Mr. Slewer’s movements, and Bill had discovered something of his. For example, Bill learnt of the Duke’s pig-sticking expedition and had carefully gone over the route the Duke would take. Neither the Duke nor Hank had made any secret of their intention, and it was a simple matter to convey their plans to Bill. "We might as well get it over," said the Duke, "let Bill know we are going out, and see what he does." What Bill did was to ride out of Tangier and select a likely spot for a "meeting." In an excess of diffidence he chose a place where he could see without himself being seen; where he might shoot without running the risk of being shot—a not unnatural selection. Unfortunately for Bill there was a rabbit-faced gamin mounted on a sorry donkey, who ambled in his rear. When the man from Texas halted at the little wood three miles outside the town and made a careful reconnaissance, the rabbit-faced young man was an interested observer. He duly reported to the Duke.