Rather more than an hour passed. Schwab became more and more anxious. At last a much larger party rode down at a gallop, among them the sheikh himself. Raising his voice when he came below the cave, he called on the occupants to surrender, threatening them with the most fearful tortures if they persisted in defying him. It was evident from the terms he used that he was under the impression that his escaped prisoners and their rescuers were all in the cave together, and thus that he had them fairly trapped. Abdul made the most of this mistake. He warned the sheikh against braving the power of the white man. He had already had one example of it; the Firangi had shown him more mercy than he deserved; the second example would entail dire consequences on himself and his village. But this reply only fanned the flames of the sheikh’s wrath; he was not to be intimidated by words: and, hurling more threats, he began to consult with his followers as to some means of enforcing his summons.

It was clearly a hazardous if not indeed an impossible task to approach the cave from below. One man in the cave, so long as he kept himself out of range of rifle fire, could hold any number at bay. How much more, then, would it be disastrous to make the attempt against, as the sheikh supposed, five or six well-armed men? But, as Abdul well knew, it was just possible to gain the plateau above the cave, from which access to it could be obtained, by climbers acting in concert on the eastern face of the hill. That this longer but easier ascent would be known to the enemy there was no doubt, for Abdul had just recognized, among the horsemen who had accompanied the sheikh, a young man who had been his companion in former days, and with whom as a boy he had actually performed the feat.

Anxiously he watched the colloquy below. Behind, Schwab was imploring him to explain what the sheikh had said. It turned out as he had feared. His former companion with a few others left the sheikh and disappeared; the rest made themselves comfortable within a few yards of the foot of the hill. Abdul had little doubt that he would soon have to reckon with an attack from above; not an easy matter, in truth, but far more likely to succeed than any attempt from below.

There was a long interval. Under stress of fear and hunger, Schwab was nearly demented. He walked about the cave, with his hands pressed hard upon the neighbourhood of the lowest button of his waistcoat, uttering guttural groans, making lugubrious appeals to the Homeland, and to a lady whom he called at one time Mrs. Bottle, at another “mein briddy Chain,” and ever and anon anathematizing Thomas Dorrell, “vat do nozink for me—for me, vat do so much for him viz Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six.” Abdul paid no heed to the German’s fumings and frettings, nor to the entreaties of Salathiel ben Ezra, who, stretched on his back, tied hand and foot, added to his prayers the most lavish promises if the Moor would only release him and help him to return to his own place.

At last, Abdul, squatting silent and watchful just within the opening of the cave, saw a pair of legs dangling in front of him. Some of the enemy had, as he had foreseen, made their way to the top of the hill, and were about to attempt to reach the cave from above. It was a foolhardy proceeding, for they could only come singly, and the occupants of the cave could easily dispose of them. Indeed, Abdul surmised that the sheikh was trying an experiment, sending one of his men to draw the badger. However that may have been, the application of the point of Abdul’s knife to the calf of one of the dangling legs caused the owner of them to draw them hastily up and to swarm up the rope to which he was clinging, as a spider runs up his filmy thread when threatened by an enemy.

Apparently the sheikh was satisfied that a direct assault, whether from above or below, was hopeless, for thenceforth the cave party were left in peace. But it was peace only externally. Even Abdul himself, who had hitherto preserved extraordinary composure, now showed signs of perturbation. What was the enemy doing? He dared not attempt to see, for he knew that if he showed his head it would be the target for a dozen bullets. Did the sheikh intend to starve them out? Their food was all gone; the tin of water was almost empty; it was impossible to get a fresh supply of either. Voices were heard from below; once Abdul heard an answering call from above; it appeared indeed as if the sheikh had resolved on an investment, knowing that sooner or later the occupants of the cave must yield or die.

The day passed. Schwab fell into a sleep of exhaustion. Abdul remained sleepless, wondering why the Englishman had not reappeared with the airship, as he had said he would do. Had some mishap befallen him? Surely he had not wilfully deserted them! This Abdul refused to believe. When morning broke he ventured to go to the mouth of the cave and look out. The Moors were still below; apparently they had camped all night on the ground. They caught sight of Abdul, and mockingly invited him to share their cous-cousoo. He made no reply, and again withdrew into the shadow.

Schwab was by this time a wreck. He lay silent. From the back of the cave came piteous moans from Salathiel, begging to be relieved of his bonds. But Abdul was obdurate; he had enough to do to keep watch on the enemy in front, without having to reckon with the Jew besides, for he knew that Salathiel would stick at no treachery.

Impassive as Abdul appeared, he was in reality on the verge of despair. The time was fast approaching when he must choose between starvation and surrender. The choice did not trouble him; he would never surrender to the sheikh of Ain Afroo. What troubled him was the thought that his old enemy would once more triumph; that the vengeance on which he had set his whole mind for years was to be snatched from him.

He was bitterly thinking on these things when Schwab rose feebly to his feet.

“I can no more,” he said; “I go to yield myself. I muss have somezink to eat. Still am I Jarman sobjeck; zey vill respeck our Kaiser who is in Berlin.”

Abdul expostulated, striving in his imperfect English to warn the German of the risk he ran. He knew the sheikh; he was a terrible enemy; he would care nothing who or what his prisoner was. Who in Europe would be any the wiser if in this remote mountainous region a man were slowly done to death in the dungeons of a kasbah? But Schwab would not listen; he craved for food; “Let us eat, for to-morrow we die,” exactly expresses his state of mind. He moved towards the entrance to the cave, shaking off, with a sudden access of rage, Abdul’s detaining hand. The Moor followed him, and stood behind him when Schwab, at the brink of the precipice, waved his hand and shouted—

“I give myself opp. But you muss come and fetch me.”

But before the echo of his voice had died away, Abdul suddenly pulled him back by main force into the cave.

“See! see!” he cried.

“Tausend Teufel! Vat shall I see?” returned Schwab.

At the point where Abdul now stood the country immediately beneath the cave was invisible, and both the men were screened from the Moors. But the sky was open, and far away in the clear blue to the north-west Abdul had descried a speck which moment by moment was growing larger.

“Vat shall I see?” repeated Schwab, vainly looking in the direction of Abdul’s stretched forefinger.

“The flying ship!” cried Abdul. “It comes!”

“You say zat! Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see!”

He roofed his eyes with his hands, and peered into the distance.

“Ach! zey veep!” he said, rubbing away the tears that had gathered. “It is for vant of food, nozink else.”

He looked again.

“Boy, you are right!” he exclaimed, “truly it is ze airship. Zey come for me! Ach! you dirty Moors, now you may go choke! I vizdraw vat I said about give myself opp. I vas not myself; I vas—I vas—anozer man. Ach, boy, so am I indeed hungry!”

The two watched the airship drawing nearer. For a moment Abdul wondered whether it would come into any danger from the rifles of the Moors either below or on the hilltop above. But remembering how clearly everything on the ground could be seen from the car of the airship, he was reassured, guessing that Tom would descry the besiegers in plenty of time to avoid their shots.

To gain the hilltop the airship had approached at a considerable altitude, but was now dropping. About half a mile from the cave it suddenly made an upward sweep, and Abdul knew that the enemy had been seen. Before it sailed out of sight over the hill, Abdul plucked off his djellab, and waved it in the mouth of the cave. The signal provoked two or three shots from those of the Moors below whose attention was not engrossed by the machine, which some of them had seen before and of which all had heard most marvellous accounts. Abdul was unhurt, and his signal was answered by a shot from the car of the airship, which then passed out of sight.

“Famos! Zey know ve are still alive! Mein Gott! truly mein hunger is colossal.”

Tom had in point of fact discovered the enemy at the moment when Abdul noticed the change in the direction of the airship. The discovery was by no means a welcome one.

“I didn’t reckon on their hiding-place being found out,” he said to Oliphant. “It makes things rather awkward.”

“They must be in a pretty bad state in the cave if the Moors have been here long.”

“And we can’t get at them; we daren’t go too near, for at close quarters the Moors would riddle the planes with their shot and very likely smash the engines. And we certainly can’t let the airship down and go for them. The worst of it is, they know pretty well by this time what the airship really is, and we couldn’t throw them into a panic as we did before.”

“Confound this German!” said Oliphant. “I shouldn’t mind if we could have a really good scrimmage and some fun for our money, but there’s nothing in it.”

“There’s Abdul, you see,” replied Tom. “We’ll have to think it out. They’re in the cave, safe enough, and can evidently hold on there. Let us make for that hill yonder, and think the matter out.”

As the airship crossed the hill of the cave, Tom steering for the loftier hill some five miles to the east, a dozen Moors sprang to their saddles and set off in pursuit. But the ground was very rough; they had to follow a tortuous route; and when, a few minutes later, the airship reached the hill, Tom calculated that he had probably half-an-hour to spare before the horsemen would arrive.

“We’d better ground, and economize fuel,” he said. “’Pon my word, Oliphant, it seems as if this is going to be as tough a job as it was at the kasbah.”

Choosing a fairly open space almost at the top of the hill, Tom brought the machine to earth. Then, while Oliphant watched for signs of the pursuing horsemen, Tom stretched himself on his back, with his hands under his head and his cap tilted over his eyes, and settled down to a good hard think.

“Don’t go to sleep,” said Oliphant.

Tom replied with a grunt.

CHAPTER XV—VIEW HALLOO!

The two mounted the car; Tom started the ascensional screws; and the airship rose slowly from the hill. When they had left the ground some three hundred feet beneath them they saw, a mile or more distant, the body of horsemen who had set off in pursuit from the Moors’ encampment. The airship was headed in the direction from which they had come, and when they saw it they halted, and waited until it had soared past them; then, having no doubt that it was returning to the hill with the intention of again attempting to rescue the blockaded men, they wheeled round, and galloped in pursuit.

The airship was going at only a moderate speed, so that the horsemen were able to keep pace with it. Tom chuckled again, and Oliphant, to whom he had by this time imparted his notion, seemed to find great amusement in the sight.

“The beggars little imagine they’re playing our game,” he said.

“No, indeed. I wonder what they really are thinking. Probably they fancy something has gone wrong with our works and we can’t go any faster.”

“D’you think they’ve got wind of our former breakdown?”

“It’s not unlikely. News travels very fast in these countries that haven’t got the telegraph!”

When they arrived at the hill of the caves, there appeared to be no change in the situation. A small group of four or five men were squatting on the summit; more than a score were congregated below. All eyes were directed upwards as the airship again came into view, and the men laughed, recognizing how fruitless would be any renewed attempt to rescue the prisoners. They all carried rifles, and evidently intended to use them when the vessel came within range. But it passed too high above their heads, still going very slowly, and, so far from descending towards the cave, sailed on towards the sea. It crossed one of the adjacent hills, then sank a little, so that it was only visible then to the few men who kept watch above.

But a minute or two afterwards the occupants of the car, looking round, saw that these men were on their feet, gesticulating with great excitement.

“They’ve taken the bait!” cried Oliphant, laughing outright.

The men had noticed that the airship, instead of continuing its north-westerly course, had suddenly taken a turn to the left, and was making at tremendous speed straight for the village of Ain Afroo. Rising higher into the air, so that he could get a view over the shoulder of the hill, Tom saw that the whole body of horsemen, now joined by the sheikh and his party, were riding at a mad gallop for the village. By this time the airship was a mile ahead of them, and the two Englishmen laughed heartily as they watched the frantic efforts of the Moors to reduce the gap. They were left hopelessly behind, and were still more than a mile from the walls when the airship, hovering directly over the roof of the kasbah, began very slowly to drop earthwards as if a descent were going to be made on the spot where it had formerly rested.

The descent took a considerable time. Who was there to tell the frenzied horsemen that the accursed Firangi was playing with them? They urged their foaming steeds up the hill at a furious rate, making light of all obstacles, and extorting a tribute of admiration from the Englishmen for horses and riders alike. They clattered into the village, dashed through the street, pulled the horses up on their haunches at the door of the kasbah, flung themselves from the saddles, and poured into the patio and up the stairs.

The sheikh himself, by far the best mounted of the troop, was the first to arrive; and within a few seconds he sprang out of the opening on the roof, followed closely by several members of his household. But what was this? The airship, instead of resting on the flagged roof, was hundreds of feet above them, and, horror of horrors! sailing with terrific speed back towards the hill of the caves. For a few moments the Moors stood gazing in bewilderment, being joined by more men from below. Then, with hearty Moslem curses, they rushed back to the opening, toppling over one another, stumbling down the stairs in their haste. Down into the patio, out of the gate, on to their horses’ backs once more, and off they set, pell-mell after the airship.

But the horses were badly blown. There were four miles of heavy country to cover. And by the time they were again clear of the walls the airship was halfway to the hill.

Tom and his friend were hugely delighted with the success of their simple bit of strategy. They could see the horsemen like ants in the distance beneath, urging their poor panting horses to the utmost of their capacity.

“We ought to have plenty of time to get them away,” said Tom.

“Yes, but hang it all! we’ve clean forgotten that we can’t lift both Schwab and the Moor.”

“Great Scott!” Tom ejaculated, in consternation. But in a moment his face cleared. “We’ll manage that,” he said cheerfully. But then he received another shock. He saw that the four or five men who had held their watch on the plateau were still there: they had not followed the rest. Their horses could be seen tethered in the grove beneath, and the men were gathered in a knot, watching the rapid approach of the machine, which probably they had expected to see no more.

“There’s only one thing for it,” said Tom. “We must go slap at them, and trust to luck. If they shoot, they may do so before we are within range, and at this speed they may easily miss us. They are sure to be a bit nervous, too.”

Tom had already begun the descent, obliquely upon the hill. When the airship was, as nearly as he could calculate, on a level with the summit, he again put the engines to their utmost speed, and dashed straight at the little group. There were three or four reports almost simultaneously, and above the whirr of the screws Tom thought he heard a sound of rending, as if one of the planes had been struck by a bullet. The vessel, indeed, dipped slightly, and for a moment he feared that it would be dashed against the face of the hill. But he jerked up the lever controlling the planes, the airship rose the few feet necessary to clear the summit, and once more sped on its course.

By this time, however, the group on the hilltop had taken fright. They could not know that if the airship dashed into them, they would be as formidable to it as it could be to them. Even if they had known this, they would probably not have been willing to sell their lives, even though in doing so they should break up the machine and hurl its occupants to destruction. With one consent they broke and fled.

Tom instantly reversed the engines, and the airship glided slowly to rest on the plateau. But the path by which the fugitives were attempting to make good their flight was only wide enough to accommodate one man at a time, and that with difficulty. Only three of the men had begun to descend when Tom sprang out of the car. The other two, fearing to be attacked from behind, turned instinctively to meet the supposed danger. Then, seeing that they had only two men to deal with, and feeling no doubt that they would be completely at the mercy of these men when once they had begun the descent, they hesitated for a second at the brink.

If they had used this second to draw their formidable knives, Tom’s adventure might have ended there and then, for in his eagerness he had forgotten to snatch up his revolver. But their halt was due rather to nervousness than to courage, and Tom was never lacking in promptitude at the critical moment. He dashed straight at them. One of them swung round at once and slithered down the path. The other, somewhat more mettlesome, made a grab at his knife. But he had only half drawn it from his belt when Tom’s fist shot out and tumbled him headlong after his comrade. The result would have been amusing if Tom had had time to observe it. From top to bottom of that rocky declivity there was an avalanche of Moors. The impetus with which the topmost man had been shot over the edge sent him smack into the man next below. The two then rolled, or rather pitched, on top of those who had preceded them, and were making their way quickly yet laboriously down the steep tracks, and it is to be feared that there were bruised and broken limbs at the bottom.

But Tom had neither eyes nor ears for the discomfiture of his enemies. There was still much to be done before he could be sure that his friends and his airship were out of harm’s way. One of his friends was already taking things into his own hands. At the first hint of what was happening Abdul had left the mouth of the cave, and was now swarming up the perilous face of the hillside. Breathless he came over the brink, on the opposite side from that where the Moors had disappeared, almost before Tom could turn round.

“All well below?” asked Tom.

“Yes, master.”

“Can you bring up the big man?”

“With a rope, master.”

“Quick, then: we have no time to spare.”

“And the Hudi, master?”

“What of him?”

“He made them come. We tied him, feet and hands.”

“Untie him, but leave him. He can make them come again!”

A rope was quickly unshipped from the car and strongly looped. Abdul descended, the rope being held by both Oliphant and Tom above, who, doubtful whether their strength would stand the strain of the ponderous German’s weight, hitched it round a rocky prominence at the brink of the hill. But fear lent Schwab extraordinary agility—as once before in the enclosure of Midfont House. With the rope looped about him, he hauled himself up by it, assisting his progress with his feet against the hill. He was in a bath of perspiration, his fat face was pale as death, when he reached the top and sank exhausted at Tom’s feet. Oliphant and Tom together hoisted him into the car, and by the time he was settled, Abdul had cut the Jew’s bonds and again clambered up, pursued by entreaties, wild threats, execrations, from the luckless Salathiel ben Ezra.

Glancing in the direction of Ain Afroo, Tom rejoiced to see that he had still about ten minutes to spare before the pursuing horsemen could arrive at the spot. He knew from experience that with Schwab as a passenger the ascensional screws did not exert sufficient power to lift three other men; but when Oliphant had reminded him of this, a way out of the difficulty suggested itself. If once the airship could be raised from the ground and the horizontal screws set in motion, it was likely that, with the speed thus obtained, they might suffice (the planes being inclined at the proper angle) to overcome the downward pull of gravity.

Tom rapidly explained to Abdul the plan he had formed. Then, entering the car in which Schwab and Oliphant already were, he set the ascensional screws in motion. The vessel slowly rose. Meanwhile Abdul had looped about his body the rope by which Schwab had been hauled up, the upper end of which had again been securely attached to the car. When the airship had risen a few feet from the hill-top, Tom set the horizontal engines at full speed, and the vessel sailed beyond the plateau, Abdul dangling from it at the end of the rope, as he had done once before when rescued from the shark. He showed no fear; in the loop he was perfectly safe, for even if the vessel sank with his weight, it would be so slowly that he would run no risk of being brought too violently into contact with the ground.

As Tom had expected, the vessel did not sink. But, the horizontal screws being partly engaged in counteracting the force of gravity, the speed of the airship was reduced to only five or six miles an hour, and at that rate it was evident that the fuel would not hold out until they reached the coast. A second breakdown must be averted at all costs; it was unlikely that they would be able to escape the clutches of predatory Moors a second time. No doubt the story of what had happened before had spread for many miles through the country, and short shrift would be given to the aeronauts if again they were brought to earth.

There was now only a minute or two to spare before the sheikh would arrive. Whatever could be done must be done at once. Glancing down, Tom saw below him the horses belonging to the men who had just been tumbled from the plateau. The men themselves were lying at the foot of the hill, not dead, as Tom was glad to see—the rugged declivity had broken their fall—but evidently completely disabled. Without hesitation Tom reduced the speed of the engines and descended, shouting to Abdul, who at the end of the rope would of course reach the ground first, to secure two of the best horses, and follow as fast as he could in the track of the airship.

Owing to the delay that had occurred, Abdul had only just leapt into the saddle when the horsemen came into sight scarcely half a mile away. The sheikh was far ahead of his men, and the pace even of his splendid Arab showed that there was little fear of Abdul being overtaken. The young Moor set off at a gallop, a second horse at his side. There was a shout behind him; the sheikh called upon his followers to spur their flagging steeds: clearly he intended gamely to continue the pursuit.

But the fugitives were now well away. Tom accommodated the speed of the airship to the pace of the horses below, keeping at a height of no more than a hundred feet from the ground so as to be able to drop down and stand by Abdul in case of need. For a few minutes it seemed as though the lad was to be close pressed, in spite of the hard galloping the horses of the pursuers had already done. But gradually they dropped farther and farther behind; Abdul’s horses were fresh; he himself was a light weight; and Tom began to breathe more freely.

Another danger, however, occurred to him. The country was at present wild and desolate, with no signs of habitation. But as he neared the coast, he would undoubtedly pass scattered villages and towns, and it was possible that Abdul might be checked at one of these. He therefore felt it desirable to rise to a greater height, so that he might obtain a more extensive outlook over the country and indicate to Abdul a course which would prevent him from running into danger.

He soon saw that his precaution was justified. The pursuers were still sticking doggedly to the trail, and Tom noticed that from time to time they were joined by fresh horsemen from the hamlets through which they passed. He could not distinguish figures in the distance, but he had no doubt that the sheikh had already obtained a fresh horse, and was among a group which had far outstripped the rest of the troop and was gradually diminishing the distance between them and their quarry. Abdul was riding gallantly on, changing from horse to horse with admirable dexterity; but it was clear that the pursuers, with many opportunities of obtaining remounts, must in course of time run him down. The airship would always indicate the direction in which they should ride.

Again Tom had to devise a means of overcoming a new difficulty. The chase had now lasted some hours, and the matter was becoming urgent. By good luck, the sight of a high conical hill, well wooded, somewhat to the right of the course they had been following, suggested a plan. Lowering the airship to within easy speaking distance of the Moor—a manœuvre which caused some uneasiness to his horses, tired as they were—Tom directed him to make for this hill, and remain in hiding among the trees until rejoined. At the moment he thought of making all speed to the yacht, dropping Schwab, replenishing his can of fuel, and returning for Abdul. But a little consideration caused him to change his mind. It might prove a very difficult matter to find the hill again when returning. It must be, he guessed, at least sixty miles from the sea, and he could not remember the landmarks exactly enough to be able to retrace his course.

In rapid consultation with Oliphant he decided on another plan. Altering the course of the airship several points to the southward, and keeping a sharp lookout upon the pursuers, he found that they were still following him as a guide. No longer having to consider the powers of endurance of Abdul’s horses, he quickened the speed of the airship, and saw in a little while that this had had its effect, several of the horsemen beginning to straggle, though they all continued in the same direction. Having thus taken the enemy some five or six miles out of their course, he suddenly swung round and made off at full speed towards the hill where he had left Abdul, of which he had been careful not to lose sight.

“They are a game lot,” remarked Oliphant, as the horsemen again followed the track. They were soon left mere specks on the horizon, and at last dropped entirely out of sight. Approaching the hill from another side, some time elapsed before the airship was seen by Abdul from his concealment in the wood. Then he again mounted; his horses had profited by the short rest: and the fugitives, having gained several miles by Tom’s manœuvre, were able to take matters comparatively easy until late in the afternoon.

CHAPTER XVI—ICARUS

“No longer am I as I vas. Vunce I swell, not too moch, but all ober; now, I fade, I shrink, I have to get ze tailor to take me in.”

“Awful, for a business man,” said Oliphant—“to be taken in, you know.”

“So! But it muss be done. Ach! I am hungry as a—as a—as a——”

“Hunter!” suggested Oliphant.

“No; hungry as a rhinoceros. I could eat—I could eat—I could eat a——”

“Whale!”

“No; I could eat a steak, underdone, from ze grill, viz chip bodadoes, gabbage viz vinegar, and Voosder sauce, viz a long glass—ach! two long glasses, of lager from München. Ach! ze zought of it make my mous cry.”

“For goodness’ sake, Oliphant, give him some grub and shut his mouth,” cried Tom.

“Shut my mous? How zen can I eat? For ze sake of anyzink give me somezink to eat; zen my mous vill shut and open of itself; vun needs not to zink ven one eats.”

Bubbling with amusement, Oliphant handed the German some biscuits from the stock they had brought with them. But his mirth evaporated when he caught sight of Tom’s face. He had wondered a little at the tetchy tone in which Tom had last addressed him, and from his anxious expression he could not but guess that something was seriously wrong.

“What’s the matter, Dorrell?”

“The engines—don’t you smell ’em?”

“I do,” replied Oliphant, sniffing. “What’s it mean?”

“It means that the turbine casing is becoming overheated. I altered the inlet valve so as to let more of the explosive mixture into the turbine—and this is the result.”

“What can we do?”

“Simply reduce speed and hope that we can weather through.”

“Any idea how much farther we have to go?”

“About fifty miles, I should think. We must have done forty at least. I shut off one of the engines just now, but the second one can’t keep us afloat. I wish Schwab would fade and shrink into nothing.”

Schwab had heard nothing of this. He was otherwise occupied. But noting now the anxious looks of his two companions he said, with his mouth full—“Do I eat too many?”

Tom was too much concerned to reply, but Oliphant laughed again.

“We can’t go on,” said Tom. “I shall have to drop her somewhere and see if I can put matters right. We were five or six miles ahead of the Moors when I caught sight of them last, and we’ve a few minutes’ grace at any rate. They won’t know exactly where we are.”

Choosing a secluded spot, he descended and brought the airship to rest. Abdul had halted; Tom explained to him the cause of his descent, and set him to keep watch on the enemy while he examined the machinery. The Moor looked thoroughly done up, and it struck Oliphant that he was even more in need of food than Schwab, so he gave him the remainder of the stock of biscuits—not a large quantity now. As for Schwab, he had fallen asleep.

It took Tom but a few minutes to adjust the valve, but he knew that the result of this adjustment must be a serious reduction of speed. He was greatly perturbed. It was clearly impossible for Abdul to ride much farther: the horses were in a terrible state of exhaustion. They were cropping the scanty herbage at the side of the track—poor refreshment after the fatigue they had undergone.

“The Moors’ horses must be equally played out, that’s one comfort,” said Tom;—“at least, those that have pursued us all the way, if any have. That’s doubtful: the Moors have probably drawn on every village they have come through.”

“I say, did you hear that?” asked Oliphant.

It was a shout—apparently from a spur of forest some distance to the right of the line which they had expected the enemy to take.

“They’re spreading out! Who’d have thought they’d have kept it up so long?”

“Well, you see, they know that one of us is on horseback: that means that the machine won’t carry us all; and in the nature of things they can overtake a rider.”

“I can see nothing for it but that Abdul must push on alone,” said Tom. “We can manage to get along slowly, and as long as the machine can keep us afloat at all they can’t catch us. But if they catch sight of Abdul he’s bound to be run down. Abdul, you must go on by yourself. Get to the coast if you can, and swim out to the yacht—can you swim?”

“Yes, master.”

“Swim to the yacht, then, and tell Mr. Greatorex what has happened. He’ll do all he can to help us if we can only get near enough.”

Abdul showed some reluctance to leave the others in difficulties, but he obeyed. He mounted the less exhausted of the horses and set off.

“He’ll have a chance,” remarked Tom, as he disappeared. “When the Moors see us in the air again they will suppose that Abdul is keeping pace with us as before.”

“It’s nearly six o’clock; it’ll be dark soon.”

“Yes, that gives him another chance—if they don’t sight him.”

At this moment he observed a score of horsemen emerging at a rapid pace from the forest whence the shout had come. They were about half a mile away. Catching sight of the airship, they gave utterance to loud cries of triumph, and somewhat changed their direction. Tom at once caused the airship to rise, and by the time the Moors arrived at the spot where it had rested it was high above their heads and out of harm’s way.

The Moors immediately began to scour the neighbourhood for signs of Abdul. Tom steered slightly to the left of the direction in which the lad had gone, in order still further to delude the pursuers. Not long afterwards a much larger band of riders galloped up from the direction in which the airship had come, and when they joined the former party, it was seen that they numbered at least sixty in all.

“We’re rousing the whole country,” said Tom with a return to his wonted cheerful manner. “If it goes on like this there’ll be thousands by the time we reach the coast.”

“Shall we reach it, d’you think?”

“I can’t tell. The engines are good for a few miles; how many I don’t know.”

“Vere am I?” said Schwab, awaking. “Ach! I remember. Do ve soon arrive at ze yacht?”

“We probably shan’t arrive at all,” replied Tom. “One of the engines is failing.”

“But it muss not—it muss not! Surely ze Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six vill not fail? Schlagintwert’s preparations never fail; zat is ze foundation of zair business.”

“No; the preparation is all right; it’s the engine.”

“Ach! it should have been made in Jarmany! But, tell me true, Mr. Dorrell, are ve in danger?”

“The truth is, Mr. Schwab, that I can’t guarantee the machine for another ten miles.”

“Ach! Vat vill I become? Vat vill Schlagintwert’s become! Vy did you bring me in zis bad-made airship from my captivity? If you zere had left me, our Kaiser who is in Berlin vould have sent a telegram to ze Sultan of Marokko, and zen ve should see somezink. Zere had I at least enough to eat.”

“Confound it!” cried Tom, thoroughly exasperated. “We came to fetch Sir Mark Ingleton, not you. But for you we should have been halfway home to England by this time; and but for your weight, we shouldn’t have been in this pretty mess at all.”

Schwab’s jaw fell. This was an aspect of the matter that had not occurred to him. Lifting his waistcoat, and looking down, he said slowly—

“Truly I vish I had not eaten so much biscuit!”

It was now getting dark. Tom steered towards a bit of rough country to the north, again some points out of his course, his object being to worry the pursuers as much as possible and to draw them away from the line of Abdul’s flight. With great satisfaction he saw them follow. After scattering over a wide area in search of the fugitive whose disappearance had so much puzzled them, they had again formed a compact body, and pursued the airship in the belief that their quarry must still be within touch of it. In a few more minutes they were obliterated by the darkness; but the sky was starry, and while on the ground they were invisible from above, it was probable that the airship was still visible to them.

Tom had noticed for some time past that the wind, which had been slight and for the most part in his favour during the day, was shifting, and blowing with greater force. In the circumstances the airship was making very little headway, and Tom’s anxieties were further increased when his sense of smell apprised him that the engines were again becoming overheated. Even if the airship were out of sight, the pursuers would probably still hear the whirring of the propellers, and it was advisable, both for the sake of cooling the machinery and of depriving the enemy of a clue, that the airship should once more be brought to the ground. But it was with some trepidation that Tom allowed it to sink. He chose a spot just beyond a stretch of woodland from which it was scarcely possible that the vessel could have been seen. He could only hope that the sound had not been heard.

“I vish——” began Schwab, as they came to rest.

“Shut up!” said Tom in a vehement whisper. “Everything depends on our keeping perfect silence now.”

In a few minutes the horsemen could be heard approaching. They dashed past the trees behind which the airship stood, and Tom’s heart beat fast as he realized how very near the danger was. But the riders did not pause, and the sound of the horses’ hoofs gradually faded away.

“We’d better lie snug for a time,” said Tom. “Perhaps the wind will moderate. I’m afraid the exertion of overcoming it would do for the engines altogether.”

While Oliphant held the electric torch, carefully shaded, Tom again overhauled the engines.

“The valve is sticking,” he said in a whisper. “There is some grit between the stem and the sleeve. It must have got in at our last stop. I shall have to take off the cover and file the stem smooth.”

This was an operation of some difficulty; but as it turned out there was time to spare, for as the night wore on the force of the wind rather increased than diminished. Schwab bemoaned the lack of a pipe and beer; the others were so tired and famished that they were not provoked to either merriment or anger by his complaints. He by and by again fell asleep. Tom and Oliphant kept watch and watch throughout the night. When Tom awoke from an uneasy nap shortly before dawn, he was relieved to find that the wind had dropped, though its direction was still unfavourable. At daybreak a start was made, and for a short time the valve worked satisfactorily, thanks to the large amount of oil used to counteract the overheating. Then, however, the oil began again to give off an unmistakable odour. The airship was brought to ground, and Tom found that the injured stem had become bent. With infinite care, to avoid breaking it altogether, Tom straightened it with a small hammer, and again filed it smooth.

Once more the airship resumed its flight. Fortunately there was no sign of the pursuers, and Tom hoped that Abdul had managed to evade their clutches.

The country was very wild and deserted, and Tom purposely steered some miles out of what he thought was the true course, in order to avoid the cultivated district that lay in the direct line to the yacht. Suddenly, however, skirting the shoulder of a hill, he came into full view of a village, with the sea a few miles beyond.

“Thank Heaven!” ejaculated Oliphant, “we may do it yet.”

“Surely that’s the very village you were taken to with Ingleton,” said Tom, scanning the place through his binocular. “Have a look.”

“By George! I believe you’re right. There’s a whole host of Moors round it, too. They’ve sighted us. They’re off!”

Taking the glass from him, Tom saw a body of at least a hundred and fifty men galloping off in a direction which would bring them between him and the coast.

“Smother them!” he cried. “I wouldn’t mind if we hadn’t to drop so often to cool.”

“Can’t we make one good dash for it? We’ve only eight or nine miles to go, have we?”

“My dear fellow, we can’t do five miles at a stretch—unless we drop Mr. Schwab.”

“Donnerwetter!” cried the German, starting up in fright. “Vat you say? Vould you do zat? Vould you desert? Vould you leave me, a Jarman sobjeck, to be tore in piece by tousand vile Mohrs, ven ze sea, ze sea vat sails ze Jarman fleet, is so near, so near? But yes—I know it! I alvays say so. Never trust an Englishman—egzept in business!”

Tom treated this outburst with silent contempt.

“I can’t go at a higher speed than fifteen miles an hour,” he said to Oliphant. “We’re perhaps a mile nearer the sea than the Moors, but they can equal our pace for a short distance, and I know we’ll have to come down before we get to the sea. If we do, we’ll be collared.”

“Risk a dash! It seems our only chance.”

Tom hesitated for a few moments. Then he said, setting his teeth—

“All right. It’s the only thing to do.”

He put both engines at full speed, and Schwab shouted with delight when he saw that the airship was gradually drawing away from the galloping Moors. But in ten minutes all three were aware of the ominous smell. Was it possible to reach the yacht, now clearly in view? Tom, alert to catch the slightest indication of failure on the part of the engines, hoped, doubted, hoped again, but was resolved to hold on to the last.

Another five minutes passed.

Then all were startled by a strange grinding sound in the defective engine.

“What is it?” asked Oliphant.

“It’s all up,” said Tom quietly. “The heat has loosened the turbine blades, and they are smashing to pieces.” Even as he spoke sheets of flame shot from the exhaust pipe, accompanied by a series of deafening reports.

Tom at once reduced speed, shouting to Oliphant to adjust the planes for descent.

“Zink! Zink vat you do!” cried Schwab, now almost frantic. “Zey vill have us! Ze Mohrs vill cut our zroats! Vy—vy—vy——”

Tom paid no heed; Oliphant muttered under his breath. They were sinking towards a ravine through which a watercourse ran to the sea. The engine, its parts grinding and tearing with a hideous scrunching sound, was shooting out flames, to the accompaniment of detonations like those of a Maxim gun. Another minute or two would witness a cataclysm; but Tom thought that if the farther side of the ravine could be reached, they might gain a little grace. The enemy would have some difficulty in crossing at speed.

The engines were failing; the airship was falling more and more rapidly.

“Can’t screw the planes any further!” cried Tom.

Oliphant wrenched at the lever; Tom put the whole force of the second engine upon the ascensional screws; and the rapidity of descent was somewhat checked. The ravine was directly beneath; Tom succeeded in giving the vessel a last forward motion; then it came with a violent bump to the ground, just on the further edge.

“Out! Quick!” cried Tom to Schwab, who was bemoaning the shock he had suffered.

When all three stood safe on the ground, Tom caught hold of the rails of the car.

“I made it; I’ll break it; they shan’t,” he said, and he toppled the airship over into the gulf, where it was smashed to atoms.

Then, with Oliphant at his side, and Schwab labouring behind, with piteous entreaties that they would not desert him, he dashed towards the cliff, a mile away, beyond which was the sea.

CHAPTER XVII—COMPLIMENTS AND THANKS

Terror lent him strength and speed when the foremost of the pursuers, arriving at the brink of the ravine, which at that point they were unable to cross, began to fire upon the fugitives. Bullets whistled past, alarmingly near, and Tom and Oliphant instinctively released Schwab’s arms and moved apart, so as to present a smaller target to the enemy. Meanwhile some of the Moors had galloped up the bank of the ravine in search of a crossing. Glancing round, Tom was concerned to see that these horsemen had disappeared; presumably they had found a suitable crossing-place, and would soon again be on his tracks. In a few moments they reappeared on the nearer bank, and set off at a gallop.

The Englishmen were now about a quarter of a mile from the shore, Schwab having dropped nearly a hundred yards behind, with another quarter-mile between him and the horsemen. There could be little doubt that the fugitives would be overtaken before they reached the edge of the cliff. Even if they contrived to scramble down they might be snapped up under the eyes of the yacht’s crew, should not the boat have arrived. And what of the Moors who a day or two ago, when Tom left the place, had been encamped in the hollow of the cliff? Were they still there?

The question was answered almost as it occurred. Tom suddenly noticed a horseman making towards him from the left, followed closely by a dozen others. It was with a gasp of amazement that he recognized in the foremost rider no other than Abdul. He came up at a breakneck pace, sprang from his horse, and joined himself to the fugitives. Immediately afterwards the Moors were upon the little party. Leaping from their horses while still in full career, they threw themselves upon the four, and though Tom and Oliphant each with a blow from his fist felled a man, and Schwab threatened the vengeance of the Kaiser, they were overwhelmed and flung to the ground.

The Moors shouted with exultation, their cries being answered jubilantly by the horsemen coming up from the ravine. They were beginning to bind their captives; but before a single knot could be tied there came other shouts from the direction of the sea.

“At them, men; bowl ’em over!”

Surely this was the voice of Mr. Greatorex! A lusty British cheer answered him. With a great effort Tom threw off the Moor who was pinning him down, and sprang to his feet in time to see a dozen sturdy seamen rushing from the edge of the cliff. The Moors turned at bay, but nothing could withstand the charge of the British tars, wielding their clubbed rifles like flails. In a few seconds half of the Moors were on the ground with more or less broken heads; the rest were in full flight.

But the other troop of horsemen was now not more than a few hundred yards distant. At a word from Captain Bodgers the sailors flung themselves face downwards, ready to deal with the second band.

“Aim at the horses!” cried Mr. Greatorex, as he came panting up in the rear of his men, and flopped down beside them.

A scattered volley brought half a dozen of the advancing horsemen to the dust. The rest, unable, owing to the rugged uneven ground, to see with what force they had to contend, reined up and hesitated. Another volley caused them to draw off to some little distance, where they formed a group and began to discuss how to retrieve this unexpected check.

“Now for the boat, my lads!” cried Mr. Greatorex.

Up sprang the men, and the whole body made a dash down the cliff. Before the Moors had agreed upon their course, the fugitives were half-way down. Seeing now by how few men they had been checked, the Moors came after them at full speed. But by the time they reached the edge of the cliff and dismounted the fugitives were at the bottom.

At that moment there was a report and a puff of smoke out at sea, and a shot, purposely aimed high, flew over the cliff, and fell a little to the rear of the Moors. That was the finishing stroke. Their horses stampeded and dashed straight for the ravine, the riders in wild pursuit behind them. Three minutes afterwards Mr. Greatorex had his whole party in the boat, and the sailors, with a final rousing cheer, pulled for the yacht.

Tom saw everything in a mist as he went aboard. Worn out with the exertions and excitements of the past few days, he was only vaguely conscious of being fussed over, and treated, as he said afterwards, more or less as a baby. He was put to bed, slept heavily for several hours, and awoke with a most exigent hunger. The yacht was in motion. He rose, bathed, put on some clean things, and, feeling himself again, thankfully obeyed Mr. Greatorex’s hearty call to dinner.

Around the well-spread table he found the rest of the party already seated. At the head was Mr. Greatorex, with Sir Mark Ingleton at his right; at the foot, Captain Bodgers with Herr Schwab. The German had tucked his napkin between his shirt and his waistcoat, and was gazing with ecstatic anticipation through his glasses at the covered entrée dishes just brought in by Timothy.

Tom was taken aback, and not a little moved, when Sir Mark Ingleton rose from his seat, and, grasping his hand, said—

“Thank you, Mr. Dorrell. I have heard the whole story from Mr. Greatorex and your Moorish follower. It is not for me to speak of the public service you have rendered; personally, I owe you more than I can say, and I shall never forget it.”

“So!” chimed in Schwab, rising stiffly from his chair. His left hand gripped his fork; his right enveloped Tom’s. “I zank you, for myself personaliter, and for ze Kaiser, for Schlagintwert, and for Business. Fill my glass, if you please,” he added to Timothy, whose smile instantly changed to a frown—“I vish to cry ‘Hoch!’ No, no, not too full, for ze ship moves, and ze champagne vould slop over.”

Schwab’s intervention came in the nick of time to relieve Tom’s embarrassment.

“Come, Tom, my dear fellow,” cried Mr. Greatorex, “sit down. We were only waiting for you.”

“Where’s Oliphant?” asked Tom.

“Hm! M’Cracken is at the furnace,” replied Mr. Greatorex.

“I say! That’s rough luck!” said Tom.

“It is by his own wish. I did violence to my sense of what is right and proper, and invited him to a place at our board. He showed, I must say, a commendable sense of his duty in the matter. ‘I’m M’Cracken and your stoker, sir,’ he said, ’till we get back to England.’”

“May I suggest,” said Sir Mark Ingleton, “that a sense of the unfitness of his attire also weighed with him?”

“We can soon alter that,” said Tom. “He’s about my build; I’ll go and rig him out in one of my suits.”

“Ve shall not vait to begin?” said Schwab anxiously, holding knife and fork upright on the table.

“Mr. Oliphant will doubtless pardon us,” replied Sir Mark blandly.

In a quarter of an hour Tom returned with Oliphant in white ducks and blue serge.

“Still is zere somezink left,” said Schwab. “I feel moch better, zough I vish ze table vould not move. Do not fill your glass quite full, sir; it vould slop over, and zat vould be pity.”

“Where’s Abdul?” asked Tom, as he sat down.

“With the men, forward,” said Mr. Greatorex.

“That’s all right. I’m jolly glad he got off safely.”

“A most intelligent youth,” said Sir Mark. “It appears that he rode straight into the village of Salaam son of Absalaam with an urgent demand for assistance from the sheikh of Ain Afroo. He was leading a party of Moors in that direction when unluckily a genuine messenger from the sheikh arrived. Abdul wheeled about and galloped for the shore, with the rest at his heels, as you saw.”

“Shust in time,” said Schwab. “Vun moment after, and I am no more.”

“I haven’t heard your story yet, sir,” said Tom to the envoy.

“Story, bless you, I have none to tell. I was on my way to Marrakesh, where the Sultan was at the time, and was indiscreet enough one evening to leave my camp for a stroll with only one attendant. I was snapped up, enveloped in a djellab, and conveyed on horseback—to my great discomfort—to the sheikh’s kasbah. There I had the good fortune to meet Mr. Schwab, whose conversation, together with a Schlagintwert price list and a copy of the Daily Mail, helped to lighten the tedium of my captivity.”

“I zank you, Sir Ingleton,” said Schwab. “Alvays do I vish to be useful. Utile et dulce. You vill not forget vat I say about extra-special discount to ze nobility and gentry? And I hear viz surprise, sir,” he added to Oliphant, “zat you are son of a lord. Viz gompliments!”

He handed Oliphant a card from his case.

“Much obliged,” said Oliphant, kicking Tom under the table. “How did they get hold of you?”

“Vy, I tell you. I come to Rabat to buy great lot of carpets for Schlagintwert. Zere I hear zat ze Sultan is at Marrakesh, and I zink I shall visit him. I egzpect big order for alarm clocks and bianola. Zat vill be good business. Ach! vat know ze Mohrs of business? Zey seize me; zey care nozink ven I say I am Jarman sobjeck; zey understand nozink ven I speak of our Kaiser who is in Berlin; and so am I shut opp. I smoke all my tobacco; zere is no more. I read ze Daily Mail, and zink ven I gontemblate ze advertisement vat colossal business is literature in England. I read Schlagintwert’s price list, and make notes for new edition; alas! zat muss all be done again. Zen I do nozink but zink profound, until Sir Ingleton come and ve study ze list togezer.”

“An experience I shall always cherish, believe me, Mr. Schwab,” said Sir Mark.

“I zank you, sir. Ze pleasure vas mutual; ze profit shall be Schlagintwert’s.”

“But how was it you were put in the dungeons?” asked Tom.

“Vy, I tell you. Vun day come ze sheikh viz his men. Zink I, now has arrive ze Kaiser’s telegram. But no; zey carry us down to ze deps, and zere are ve shut opp vorse zan before!”

“That was when they got the message from Salathiel ben Ezra, no doubt,” said Tom,“—the Jew you found in the cave, Mr. Schwab.”

“Ven I vas so hungry!”

“I wonder what has become of him?” said Oliphant. “It’s to him I owe the keenest sport I’ve ever had.”

“The less said about that the better, M’C—I beg your pardon—Mr. Oliphant. The man was a villain. I said so, Tom. Timothy will have a scar for the rest of his days. And but for the Jew we shouldn’t have lost our airship. Not that that matters. We’ve proved it, you know; we’ll build a larger one now.”

“And Schlagintwerts shall buy it cost price!”

“No, sir, Schlagintwerts shall not buy it,” said Mr. Greatorex, frowning severely on the German. “We will offer it to the Government. I shall invite Colonel Capper to examine it, and Lord Langside, I trust, will show himself sufficiently sensible of his obligation to us to make no difficulties about the price.”

“Vell, Schlagintwert shall have colossal order for Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six—at least until ze var come.”

“What war?”

“Vy, ze var ven ze Kaiser shall zink it is time to teach ze vorld zat——”

“Stay, Mr. Schwab,” interrupted Sir Mark, “we must not be indiscreet. As a diplomatist it is my duty to avert war; as a business man you, I am sure, would deplore it.”

“So. Zat is shust vat I alvays say: zat is vat I go to say ven you interrup me; ven ze Kaiser shall zink it is time to teach ze vorld zat Business are Business!”