She, too, held a revolver; her hand was as steady as a rock.

"Drop your knife," she ordered Craig.

He obeyed without hesitation.

"Now tie the sash around the girl."

He obeyed mechanically. Feerda, who had been fiercely resisting Quest's efforts to hold her, yielded without a struggle as soon as Craig touched her. She looked at him, however, with bitter reproach.

"You would tie me here?" she murmured. "You would leave me?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: FEERDA, THE CHIEF'S DAUGHTER, LISTENS ENRAPTURED TO CRAIG'S TALES OF FARAWAY AMERICA.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: CRAIG FRANTICALLY a.s.sISTED IN DRAGGING PEOPLE FROM THE BURNING CAR.]

"It is Fate," Craig muttered. "I am worn out with trying to escape, Feerda. They will come soon and release you."

She opened her lips to shriek, but Quest, who had made a gag of her linen head-dress, thrust it suddenly into her mouth. He took Craig by the collar and led him to the spot where the others were waiting. They hoisted him on to a horse. Already behind them they could see the flare of the torches from the returning Mongars.

"You know the way to Port Said," Quest whispered. "See that you lead us there. There will be trouble, mind, if you don't."

Craig made no reply. He rode off in front of the little troop, covered all the time by Quest's revolver. Very soon they were out of the jungle and in the open desert. Quest looked behind him uneasily.

"To judge by the row those fellows are making," he remarked, "I should think that they've found Feerda already."

"In that case," the Professor said gravely, "let me recommend you to push on as fast as possible. We have had one escape from them, but nothing in the world can save us now that you have laid hands upon Feerda. The Chief would never forgive that."

"We've got a start, any way," Quest observed, "and these are the five best horses in the camp. Girls, a little faster. We've got to trust Craig for the direction but I believe he is right."

"So far as my instinct tells me," the Professor agreed, "I believe that we are heading in precisely the right direction."

They galloped steadily on. The moon rose higher and higher until it became almost as light as day. Often the Professor raised himself in his saddle and peered forward.

"This column of soldiers would march at night," he remarked. "I am hoping all the time that we may meet them."

Quest fell a little behind to his side, although he never left off watching Craig.

"Look behind you, Professor," he whispered.

In the far distance were a number of little black specks, growing every moment larger. Even at that moment they heard the low, long call of the Mongars.

"They are gaining on us," Quest muttered.

The two girls, white though they were, bent over their horses.

"We'll stick to it till the last moment," Quest continued, "then we'll turn and let them have it."

They raced on for another mile or more. A bullet whistled over their heads. Quest tightened his reins.

"No good," he sighed. "We'd better stay and fight it out, Professor. Stick close to me, Lenora."

They drew up and hastily dismounted. The Mongars closed in around them. A cloud had drifted in front of the moon, and in the darkness it was almost impossible to see their whereabouts. They heard the Chief's voice.

"Shoot first that dog of a Craig!"

There was a shriek. Suddenly Feerda, breaking loose from the others, raced across the little division. She flung herself from her horse.

"Tell my father that you were not faithless," she pleaded. "They shall not kill you!"

She clung to Craig's neck. The bullets were beginning to whistle around them now. All of a sudden she threw up her arms. Craig, in a fury, turned around and fired into the darkness. Then suddenly, as though on the bidding of some unspoken word, there was a queer silence. Every one was distinctly conscious of an alien sound--the soft thud of many horses' feet galloping from the right; then a sharp, English voice of command.

"Hold your fire, men. Close into the left there. Steady!"

The cloud suddenly rolled away from the moon. A long line of hors.e.m.e.n were immediately visible. The officer in front rode forward.

"Drop your arms and surrender," he ordered sternly.

The Mongars, who were outnumbered by twenty to one, obeyed without hesitation. Their Chief seemed unconscious, even, of what had happened. He was on his knees, bending over the body of Feerda, half supported in Craig's arms. The officer turned to Quest.

"Are you the party who left Port Said for the Mongar Camp?" he asked.

Quest nodded.

"They took us into the jungle--just escaped. They'd caught us here, though, and I'm afraid we were about finished if you hadn't come along. We are not English--we're American."

"Same thing," the officer replied, as he held out his hand. "Stack up their arms, men," he ordered, turning around. "Tie them in twos. Dennis, take the young ladies back to the commissariat camels."

The Professor drew a little sigh.

"Commissariat!" he murmured. "That sounds most inviting."

CHAPTER XIII

'NEATH IRON WHEELS

1.

Side by side they leaned over the rail of the steamer and gazed sh.o.r.ewards at the slowly unfolding scene before them. For some time they had all preserved an almost ecstatic silence.

"Oh, but it's good to see home again!" Laura sighed at last.

"I'm with you," Quest agreed emphatically. "It's the wrong side of the continent, perhaps, but I'm aching to set my foot on American soil again."

"This the wrong side of the continent! I should say not!" Laura exclaimed, pointing to where in the distance the buildings of the Exposition gleamed almost snow-white in the dazzling sunshine. "Why, I have never seen anything so beautiful in my life."