“Quick! Get behind me! Crouch between the horses!” cried Fitz to Mabel, urging the panting Sheikh in front of Roy. The three men in front had faced round, and seemed to be meditating a charge, but they were without firearms, and Fitz, standing behind his pony, had them covered if they should approach. Left to themselves, they might have distracted his attention by coming at him from different directions, and taken him in the rear, but the other members of the party had now emerged from the gorge, and were riding down on them with shouts. Prudent counsels prevailed, and they turned their horses’ heads again, and rode off into the gathering darkness, leaving the victorious Fitz with two trembling, sweating horses, and Mabel, crouched on the sand, clutching wildly at his feet. She tried to speak as she looked up at him, but no words would come, and only a hoarse scream issued from her lips. The sight of her utter prostration almost unmanned him. “Don’t, don’t, Miss North!” he entreated, trying to lift her up. “You’re safe now, and the others will be here in a minute. Don’t let them see you like this.” She swayed to and fro as he raised her, and staggering to Roy’s side buried her face in his mane. Fitz turned away. It would be taking an unfair advantage, he felt, to speak to her in this forlorn state, and he began to pat Sheikh, and praise his gallant efforts in a low tone. Many a time afterwards did he curse himself as a fool for this backwardness of his, but at the moment it was impossible to him to take her in his arms and comfort her, as his heart urged him to do. She had been saved from death or worse by his means, and he could not presume upon the service he had rendered her. The moment’s constraint was quickly ended by the eager questions of the men who came galloping up. Fitz stepped forward to meet them. “Look out!” he said hastily, jerking his head in Mabel’s direction, “Miss North is awfully knocked up. Leave her to herself for a moment. Is Tighe here?” “He stopped at the nullah. It’s a bad job there. Brendon’s gone, poor old chap! and the Commissioner’s pretty extensively damaged. Jolly good job the doctor was able to ride out this afternoon.” “I say, look here,” said Fitz, “we mustn’t let her know about this. Can’t we get her straight home?” “Must go back to the nullah. The Colonel and one or two more whose horses were no good stayed with Tighe to help him dig out the Commissioner. He had managed to shoot his horse, lest it should kick his brains out, but it was lying right across him. They’ll want help in getting him home, and poor Brendon too.” “Well, say nothing to Miss North, and we’ll try to keep it dark. There, she’s coming. Can’t you say something ordinary?”