They halted, and strained eyes and ears. They could see nothing, owing to a few scattered hummocks in front, but they caught distinctly the irregular thuds of distant rifle-firing. That was enough. Careless of the rough going, or the condition of their camels at the close, they raced ahead madly. There was no question now of the odds they might have to face. Though the Hadendowas were well armed, and outnumbered them by two to one, Royson felt that the presence of the Englishmen, all of whom were ex-sailors of the Royal Navy, would nerve his Arab helpers to attack and defeat Alfieri's band of cutthroats. Moreover, von Kerber and his small escort were evidently making a fight of it, and, while daylight lasted, the Hadendowas, once discovered, would endeavor to shoot down their quarry at a safe range rather than undergo the certain loss of an open assault. How long could the unequal contest be maintained--that was the question that tortured Dick. Many times during that wild ride he asked it, and the only answer he received was given by despair. It came to him through a spume of dust and flying sand, and the rattle of accouterments, and the plaints of frenzied camels, and the yells and curses of the strangely-assorted company of deliverers as they plunged across the desert towards the Well of the Seven Hills. And its discordant shriek was, "Too late! Too late! The gods have frowned on the pillagers of Saba, and the wrath of the gods is everlasting!" CHAPTER XVIII THE FINDING OF THE TREASURE