The noise of the conflict awoke the Khouans, who sprang up and rushed to their chief.

One of them drew a long-bladed knife and was about to stab the prostrate and unconscious boy, but the Sultan restrained him with an impatient gesture.

"Not here," said he. "The sacrifice can only be made in the mosque of the Khouans, thrice dedicated to Mohammed and reserved for the holiest rite of Islam, the rite of vengeance!" Motioning to the Khouan to take the insensible boy from the ground, he added "Now to horse and for the mosque. Bear our captive in your arms."

The Arabs mounted and were soon dashing across the desert, headed by the Sultan, who had hastily stanched the blood flowing from his arm and bound up the wound.

Half an hour later, Monte-Cristo and his men reached the oasis. The Count and Captain Joliette rode to the wells and at once saw where the gra.s.s had been beaten down by the Khouans and their horses.

"They have been here and recently, too," said Captain Joliette.

"Thank G.o.d!" said Monte-Cristo, fervently. "We are on their track! But what is that?" he added. "Is it blood?"

Coucon and Fanfar, who had been attentively examining the stain, simultaneously answered:

"It is blood."

"My G.o.d!" cried Monte-Cristo, with a convulsive start, "then they have slain my son!"

"Not so, Count," said Captain Joliette. "Had they slain Esperance they would have left his body here. But see," resumed he, pointing to the spot where Esperance had made the attack on Maldar; "here are evidences of a struggle; they have fought among themselves and one of them has been wounded."

"Heaven grant it may be so!" said Monte-Cristo.

The party started off again, following the track of the Arabs' horses, and after an hour's ride came in sight of a long, low building with a gleaming minaret, standing alone in the midst of the desert.

"The mosque of the Khouans!" cried Captain Joliette, triumphantly.

"Maldar and his ruffians are there! Look! Yonder are their horses!"

Monte-Cristo and his men reached the building and leaped to the ground; they left their panting animals in charge of Bobichel, and, drawing their revolvers, made their way into the mosque.

There a sight met their eyes that almost froze the blood in their veins.

Esperance, with his hands tied behind him and stripped to the waist, was kneeling upon a large, flat stone in the centre of the mosque. Over him stood Maldar, his yataghan uplifted to strike. The four Khouans stood at a short distance, chanting what was evidently a death-hymn.

Instantly Monte-Cristo aimed his weapon at the Sultan and fired. Maldar fell dead beside his intended victim.

The other Arabs leaped through the open windows and, mounting their horses, fled across the desert.

Monte-Cristo caught his son in his arms.

"Esperance, my beloved!" he cried.

"Father!" exclaimed the rescued lad, clasping his arms about Monte-Cristo's neck.

Esperance's garments were quickly restored to him by Fanfar, and when he was clad in them, the party again mounted and started on their return to the colonist's farm.

There is no need to describe the toilsome journey, it was accomplished in due time, and once more Esperance was safe in his father's care.

The ladies gave the heroes of the expedition a most enthusiastic welcome, Miss Elphys shedding tears of joy as Esperance told her how his heroic father had saved him from death at Maldar's hands.

The next evening, when the excitement had somewhat subsided and Monte-Cristo and his men had fully recovered from their fatigue, Fanfar began the story of his life, which will be related in the succeeding chapters.

CHAPTER IV.

FANFAR'S ADVENTURES--CAIN.

Toward the middle of December, 1813, a man was riding through the Black Forest.

This man seemed to be still in the vigor of youth. He wore a long, brown surtout and leathern gaiters. His hair was worn in a queue, and powdered. Night was coming on, and Pierre Labarre, confidential servant of the Marquis de Fongereues, was somewhat weary and eager to get on.

"Quick!" he said to his horse. "Quick! They are waiting for us, and we are the bearers of good news!"

The animal seemed to understand, and accelerated his pace.

Suddenly Pierre started. He had reached a group of nine trees, one of which had been struck by lightning, making the group a conspicuous one.

The rider listened as he pulled up his steed.

"Surely," he said to himself, "I heard the trot of a horse on the other side of the Nine Trees!"

The road widened here and divided. He laid his hand on his breast by an involuntary movement.

"The portfolio is safe, any way! Get on, Margotte." And he lifted his reins.

But, as if this movement were a signal, he heard distinctly a horse coming toward him, this time at a full gallop, and then Pierre saw a shadow pa.s.s some thirty yards away.

He drew out a pistol, and rode with it in his hand until he pa.s.sed the cross-road, but he saw and heard nothing more. Perhaps he had been mistaken--it was only a messenger traveling the same road as himself. He had entered the path which in a half hour would take him into Fribourg, when suddenly there was a flash and a report. A ball struck Pierre in the breast--he fell forward on the neck of his horse. A man came out of the shadow on the side of the road. This man was wrapped in a cloak.

Just as he laid his hand on the bridle of the horse, Pierre straightened himself in his saddle.

"You are in too great a hurry, bandit!" he shouted, firing his pistol at the a.s.sa.s.sin at the same moment.

The man uttered a terrible cry, and then, with a superhuman effort, sprang into the wood. Pierre fired again, but this time hit nothing.

"It was a good idea of mine," he said, rubbing his chest, "to use this portfolio as a breastplate. And now, Margotte, carry me to Fribourg without further adventures!"

As Margotte obeyed the spur, her master heard the gallop of another horse dying away in the distance.

"Strange!" he said. "I could not see his face, but it seemed to me that I knew his voice when he cried out!"

CHAPTER V.

WHAT PIERRE KNEW.