The boy's only weapon was a flint knife, and that was almost useless in fighting a foe armed with a razor-edged sword.

Dan gave a despairing shout for help as he saw d.i.c.k Oakwood galloping toward him, and dodged the blow of the scimiter, missing it by such a close margin that the steel whizzed past his ear with a swishing sound.

"Attaboy, Dan!"

At d.i.c.k's cry of encouragement, Dan saw the Arab suddenly reel back in the saddle, fling up both arms and slump to the ground in a heap. d.i.c.k had no weapon but the rope, but he had learned to use the lariat as well as any cowboy.

The loop had dropped over the Bedouin's body, and as d.i.c.k wheeled his horse the Arab was dragged from the saddle and pulled across the desert until he was stunned and helpless.

At this, Dan let out a great shout of relief.

"Hooray, d.i.c.k! Fine work!" and he started hot-foot for safety, helping the wounded Kurt as best he could.

They were far from safe, however, for though the two Arabs were disposed of, there were others who had seen what was going on and were heading that way.

d.i.c.k rode up to his friends and bending low in the saddle, he seized Kurt under the arms.

"Help me give him a lift, Dan," he cried, and the next moment Kurt was lifted bodily upon the horse ahead of d.i.c.k, while the latter directed his friend:

"Grab the stirrup, Dan! Now run like blazes! There they come!"

Dan s.n.a.t.c.hed at the stirrup and as d.i.c.k urged his horse to flight he seemed to be flying through the air. Every time he raised his foot for a forward step, he was pulled ahead by the rush of the horse and his flight was a series of leaps that carried him forward like a kangaroo.

"Gee whizz!" he gasped. "This is grand if I can keep it up! I feel like a giant gra.s.shopper!"

Over his head whizzed the bullets of the galloping Arabs, who were joining in the chase, and the cliffs ahead seemed very far away.

d.i.c.k encouraged his friend to keep up.

"Watch your step, Dan. Keep going for a minute longer and you're safe!"

The dust rose about them in a cloud. Dan's mouth was parched and dry.

His lips seemed to be cracking and his eyes full of grit, but he hung to the stirrup for all he was worth, struggling desperately to keep from falling.

It was like the end of a Marathon run, with every ounce of his strength put forth by sheer will power to keep from giving up the race. But the difference was that if he should lose the race, he would lose his life as well.

Half dazed and almost blinded by the dust, Dan suddenly felt the horse stop and he plunged forward in a heap. "This is my finish," he thought. "I'm a goner, sure!"

He lay there panting, expecting in the next moment to feel a bullet crash into his body, but instead, he was picked up by friendly hands and revived with splashes of cool water over his face and head.

"Quick! Give him a drink!" he heard d.i.c.k command and the next instant a gourd of water was put to his lips and Dan gulped it eagerly.

"Where are we?" he asked, wiping his eyes and looking around in a half daze.

"At the Big Spring," said d.i.c.k. "We're safe here, but only for a few minutes. The Taharans are standing off the Arabs with their bows and arrows at the last line of defense."

While he spoke d.i.c.k was busily engaged in washing the dirt from Kurt's bleeding shoulder.

"Quick, a piece of cloth!" he said. "This needs a bandage."

A strip was put into his hands and as d.i.c.k finished tying up the wound he was surprised to see the girl, Veena, standing beside him with more of the cloth which she had woven.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I am trying to help, O Master."

"But I gave orders for all the old folks, children and women to take refuge up there back of the cliffs."

"Forgive me, O Master! I saw the fighting on the plain, and I could not stay up there in safety. I had to come down to do my share."

"Your share?"

"Yes." Veena touched meaningly the bow and quiver of arrows, that hung over her shoulder. "I can send an arrow straight as any man in the tribe."

"But women are not supposed to go into battle."

"Why not? If the enemy feels an arrow in his body, does he stop to ask whether a man shot it or a woman?"

"Well, I'll be jiggered!" cried Dan Carter, who had caught the drift of this reply. "Talk about your modern girl! Why this Stone-Age maiden belongs to the Twentieth Century!"

Veena blushed. She knew nothing about either "Stone-Age" or "Twentieth Century" but she guessed that Dan was praising her and the color mounted to the fair skin of her cheeks, while her blue eyes smiled with pleasure.

"Please let me stay, O Master," she begged.

But d.i.c.k was not so easily led. "Nothing doing! Go back up the cliff.

And get a move on! You're supposed to be with Queen Vanga. This is no place for girls!"

Veena might have argued with anybody else, but Tahara, the king and G.o.d of the tribe, was not to be contradicted. Hastily she turned away and ran like a deer to the trail that led up the cliffs.

"We've got to clear out of here right away," said d.i.c.k.

"The archers are not able to hold back the Arabs any longer," Dan agreed.

"That's right. By this time they must have shot away all their arrows."

From the second line of defense, the Taharans were seen retreating, singly or in pairs, while the Arabs, grown more cautious now, hesitated to rush them, fearing another surprise.

"We can't hold the spring any longer," said d.i.c.k, and he gave the order for a general retreat. In a few minutes, the trails were covered with tribesmen, running nimbly to the rocky slopes.

They mounted them lightly as goats, and Dan Carter, though he was a good climber, had to do his best to keep up with the slowest.

As for d.i.c.k, he remained among the last. The horse he had captured was at the spring with its muzzle deep in the cool water.

d.i.c.k hurried to pull it away before it could injure itself by drinking too much, and swinging into the saddle he brought up the rear of his retreating forces.

Among all the footpaths that led to the top of the cliffs, there was only one that a horseman could ascend, and even that required a sure-footed horse and a steady and fearless rider.

d.i.c.k stopped at the foot of the cliffs and turned in his saddle to shake his fist at the pursuing Arabs, then dug his heels in the horse's flanks and sent it up the steep incline. As he reached the top, the grade was almost as steep as the roof of a house and the stones underfoot went rattling down the cliff side.