The Sheik

At the beginning of the ride they had passed several vedettes sitting

motionless on their impatient horses. The men had swung their rifles

high in the air in salute as she passed, and once or twice Gaston had

shouted a question as he galloped after her. But for the last hour they

had seen no one. The desert was undulating here, rising and falling in

short, sharp declivities that made a wide outlook impossible.

Gaston spurred to Diana's side. "Will Madame please to turn?" he said

respectfully. "It is late, and it is not safe riding amongst these

slopes. One cannot see what is coming and I am afraid."

"Afraid, Gaston?" she rallied laughingly.

"For you, Madame," he answered gravely.

She reined in The Dancer as she spoke; but it was too late. Even as she

turned her horse's head innumerable Arabs seemed to spring up on all

sides of them. Before she realised what was happening her escort

flashed past and wheeled in behind her, shooting steadily at the horde

of men who poured in upon them, and, with a groan, Gaston seized her

bridle and urged the horses back in the direction from which they had

come. The noise was deafening, the raucous shouting of the Arabs and

the continuous sharp crack of the rifles. Bullets began to whizz past

her.

Gaston tucked his reins under his knee, and with one hand grasping The

Dancer's bridle and his revolver in the other, rode looking back over

his shoulder. Diana, too, glanced behind her, and mechanically her

fingers closed over the shining little weapon that the Sheik had given

her the previous week. She saw with a sudden sickening the six men who

had formed her escort beaten back by the superior numbers that enclosed

them on every side. Already two were down and the rest were on foot,

and, as she watched, they were swallowed up in the mass of men that

poured over them, and, at the same time, a party of about twenty

horsemen detached themselves from the main body and galloped towards

her and Gaston.

She seized his arm. "Can't we do something? Can't we help them? We

can't leave them like that," she gasped, wrenching the revolver from

the holster at her waist.

"No, no, Madame, it is impossible. It is a hundred to six. You must

think of yourself. Go on, Madame. For God's sake, ride on. We may have

a chance." He loosed her bridle and dropped behind her, interposing

himself between her and the pursuing Arabs. A fierce yelling and a hail

of bullets that went wide made Diana turn her head as she crouched low

in the saddle. She realised the meaning of Gaston's tactics and checked

her horse deliberately.