"
They could hear the hum of voices ahead, the howling and the bubbling of the
beasts and the hoarse cries of the soldiers girthing up for the day.
Two or three shots were fired.
"Is that at us? Surely they can see that I am English," Dick spoke angrily.
"Nay, it is from the desert," the driver answered, cowering in his saddle.
"Go forward, my child! Well it is that the dawn did not uncover us an hour
ago."
The camel headed straight for the column and the shots behind multiplied. The
children of the desert had arranged that most uncomfortable of surprises, a
dawn attack for the English troops, and were getting their distance by snap-
shots at the only moving object without the square.
"What luck! What stupendous and imperial luck!" said Dick. "It's 'just before
the battle, mother.' Oh, God has been most good to me! Only"--the agony of the
thought made him screw up his eyes for an instant--"Maisie . . ."
"Allahu! We are in," said the man, as he drove into the rearguard and the camel
knelt.
"Who the deuce are you? Despatches or what? What's the strength of the enemy
behind that ridge? How did you get through?" asked a dozen voices. For all
answer Dick took a long breath, unbuckled his belt, and shouted from the saddle
at the top of a wearied and dusty voice, "Torpenhow! Ohe, Torp! Coo-ee, Tor-
pen-how.
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