“I guess the light will just about give us away if we do.” “Make two or three small fires across the slope,” said Cyril, “as if to prevent the Arabs rushing us, and keep them low and smoky by heaping on earth as well as wood. That ought to produce the desired moral effect.” “That’s so, sir. Well, Mr Mansfield, have you figured out anything to help us at the back there?” “I’m going to explore as soon as the enemy have settled down to their supper,” answered Mansfield, and as the result of his explorations he was able before long to announce that there existed on the steepest side of the hill an apology for a path, almost invisible to the naked eye, down which it ought to be possible to lead the horses. “A sweet path it must be, if our friends the enemy haven’t sniffed it out!” grumbled Mr Hicks; “and what a real elegant set of fools we shall look when all the horses go down ker-smash one on top of another! And what about the noise, Mr Mansfield? If you ask me, I should say there would be a good deal of promiscuous language flying around while that descent is taking place.” “Nonsense, Hicks! these Arabs can control their emotions better than that,” said Cyril. “If the horses’ feet are muffled, that’s the only thing necessary.” “Well, we can’t do more than try,” said Mr Hicks resignedly. “But all the same,” he added to Mansfield, “you bet I wouldn’t do that but for the boss. He is chafing fit to burst, and if we got carried off to the tents of the Beni Ayub, I wouldn’t answer for him. And now for our sheikh.”