A Horrible Situation.  
All that night our fugitives walked steadily in the direction of their guiding-star, until the dawn of day began to absorb its light. Then they selected a couple of prominent bushes on the horizon, and, by keeping these always in their relative positions, were enabled to shape their course in what they believed to be the right direction. By repeating the process continuously they were enabled to advance in a fairly straight line.
 
Molloy, as we have said, carried the provision bag, and, although it was a very heavy one, he refused to let his comrades relieve him of it until breakfast-time. Then it was discovered that inside of the large bag there were rolled tight up four smaller bags with shoulder-straps to them.
 
“A knowin’ feller that Mohammed is,” said Jack Molloy, as he handed a bag to each; “he understands how to manage things. Let’s see what sort o’ grub he has. Corn-cakes, I do believe, an’ dates, or some sort o’ dried fruit, an’—water-bottles! well, that is a comfort. Now then, boys, go ahead. We can’t afford to waste time over our meals.”
 
The others so thoroughly agreed with their friend on this point that they began to eat forthwith, almost in silence. Then, the provisions having been distributed, they resumed their march, which was almost a forced one, so anxious were they to get as far away as possible from the Arab army.
 
Coming to a large mimosa bush in the course of the morning they halted and sat down to rest a little, and hold what the sailor called a “palaver.”
 
“You see, boys,” he said, “it’ll be of no manner of use our scuddin’ away before the wind under a press o’ canvas like this, without some settled plan—”
 
“Ain’t our plan to git away from the Arabs as fast as we can?” said Moses Pyne, who sat on a stone at the sailor’s feet.
 
“Yes, Moses, but that’s only part of it,” returned Molloy. “We must keep away as well as get away—an’ that won’t be quite so easy, for the country is swarmin’ wi’ the dark-skinned rascals, as the many tracks we have already passed shows us. If we was to fall in wi’ a band of ’em—even a small one—we would be took again for sartin’, for we’ve got nothin’ to fight wi’ but our fists.”
 
“These would offer but poor resistance to bullet and steel,” said Armstrong, “and that lance you’re so fond of, Miles, wouldn’t be worth much.”
 
“Not much,” admitted Miles, surveying the badge of his late office, “but better than nothing.”
 
“What if the Arabs should change their course and fall in with us again?” asked Moses.
 
“No fear o’ that, seein’ that Mohammed himself gave us our sailin’ orders, an’ laid our course for us; but it would never do to fall in wi’ other bands, so I proposes that we cast anchor where we are, for there’s pretty good holdin’ ground among them bushes, keep quiet all day, an’ travel only at night. I’ve got the krect bearin’s just now, so w’en the stars come out we’ll be able to fix on one layin’ in the right direction, and clap on all sail, slow and aloft—stu’n s’ls, sky-scrapers, an’ all the rest on it.”
 
“A good plan, Jack,” said Armstrong, “but what if it should come cloudy and blot out the stars?”
 
“Besides,” added Miles, “you forget that men of the desert are skilled in observing signs and in following tracks. Should any of them pass near this little clump of bushes, and observe our footsteps going towards it, they will at once come to see if we are still here.”
 
Molloy put his head on one side and looked perplexed for a moment.
 
“Never mind. Let ’em come,” he said, with a sudden look of sagacity, “we’ll circumwent ’em. There’s nothin’ like circumwention w’en you’ve got into a fix. See here. We’ll dig a hole in a sandbank big enough to hold us all, an’ we’ll cut a big bush an’ stick it in front of the hole so as they’ll never see it. We can keep a bright look-out, you know, an’ if anything heaves in sight on the horizon, down we go into the hole, stick up the bush, an there you are—all safe under hatches till the enemy clears off.”
 
“But they will trace our footsteps up to the hole or the bush,” said Miles, “and wonder why they can trace them no further. What then?”
 
Again the seaman fell into perplexed meditation, out of which he emerged with a beaming smile.
 
“Why, then, my lad, we’ll bamboozle ’em. There’s nothin’ like bamboozlement w’en circumwention fails. Putt the two together an’ they’re like a hurricane in the tropics, carries all before it! We’ll bamboozle ’em by runnin’ for an hour or two all over the place, so as no mortal man seein’ our footprints will be able to tell where we comed from, or what we’ve bin a-doin’ of.”
 
“You don’t know the men of the desert, Jack,” rejoined Miles, with a laugh. “They’d just walk in a circle round the place where you propose to run about and bamboozle them, till they found where our tracks entered this bit of bush. Then, as they’d see no tracks leaving it, of course they’d know that we were still there. D’you see?”
 
“That’s a puzzler for you, Jack,” remarked Moses, as he watched the perplexed expression looming up again like a cloud on the sailor’s face.
 
“By no manner o’ means,” retorted Molloy, with sudden gravity. “I sees my way quite clear out o’ that. You remember the broad track, not half a mile off from where we now sit?”
 
“Yes; made I suppose by a pretty big band o’ some sort crossin’ the desert,” said Moses.
 
“Well, lad, arter runnin’ about in the bush to bamboozle of ’em, as aforesaid, we’ll march back to that track on the sou’-west’ard—as it may be—an’ then do the same on the nor’-west’ard—so to speak—an’ so lead ’em to suppose we was a small party as broke off, or was sent off, from the main body to reconnoitre the bit o’ bush, an’ had rejoined the main body further on. That’s what I call circumwentin’, d’ee see?”
 
While this palaver was going on, Stevenson and Bill Simkin were standing a short way off taking observation of something in the far distance. In a few minutes they ran towards their comrades with the information that a band of men were visible on the horizon, moving, they thought, in an opposite direction to their line of march.
 
“It may be so,” said Miles, after a brief survey, “but we can’t be sure. We must put part of your plan in force anyhow, Jack Molloy. Away into the scrub all of you, and stoop as you go.”
 
In saying this, our hero, almost unintentionally, took command of the little party, which at once tacitly accorded him the position. Leading them—as every leader ought—he proceeded to the centre of the clump of bushes, where, finding a natural hollow or hole in the sand, at the root of a mimosa bush, three of them went down on hands and knees to scoop it out deeper, while the others cut branches with Molloy’s clasp-knife.
 
Using flat stones, chips of wood, and hands as shovels, they managed to dig out a hole big enough to conceal them all, the opening to which was easily covered by a mass of branches.
 
It is doubtful whether this ingenious contrivance would have availed them, if “men of the desert” had passed that way, but fortune favoured them. The band, whether friends or foes, passed far off to the westward, leaving them to enjoy their place of fancied security.
 
To pass the first day there was not difficult. The novelty of the position was great; the interest of the thing immense. Indefinite hopes of the future were strong, and they had plenty to say and speculate about during the passing hours. When night came, preparation was made for departure. The provision bags were slung, a moderate sip of water indulged in, and they set forth, after a very brief prayer by Stevenson, that God would guide them safely on their way. There was no formality in that prayer. The marine did not ask his comrades to kneel or to agree with him. He offered it aloud, in a few seconds, in the name of Jesus, leaving his hearers to join him or not as they pleased.
 
“See that you lay your course fair now, Molloy,” said Miles, as they sallied out upon the darkening plain.
 
“Trust me, lad, I’ve taken my bearin’s.”
 
It was very dark the first part of the night, as the moon did not rise till late, but there was quite enough light to enable them to proceed with caution, though not enough to prevent their taking an occasional bush or stump for an advancing foe. All went well, however, until dawn the following morning, when they began to look about for a suitable clump of bushes in which to conceal themselves. No such spot could they find.
 
“Never mind, lads,” said the inexhaustible Molloy, “we’ll just go on till we find a place. We’re pretty tough just now, that’s one comfort.”
 
They were indeed so tough that they went the whole of that day, with only one or two brief halts to feed. Towards evening, however, they began to feel wearied, and, with one consent, determined to encamp on a slight eminence a short way in advance, the sides of which were covered with low scrub.
 
As they approached the spot an unpleasant odour reached them. It became worse as they advanced. At last, on arriving, they found to their surprise and horror that the spot had been a recent battle-field, and was strewn with corpses and broken weapons. Some days must have elapsed since the fight which strewed them there, for the bodies had been all stripped, and many of them were partially buried, while others had been hauled half out of their graves by those scavengers of the desert, hyenas and vultures.
 
“Impossible to halt here,” said Armstrong. “I never witness a sight like this that it does not force on me the madness of warfare! What territorial gain can make up for these lost lives—the flower of the manhood of both parties?”
 
“But what are we to do?” objected Molloy. “Men must defend their rights!”
 
“Not necessarily so,” said Stevenson. “Men have to learn to bear and forbear.”
 
“I have learned to take advantage of what luck throws in my way,” said Rattling Bill, picking up a rifle which must have escaped the observation of the plunderers who had followed the army.
 
The body of the poor fellow who had owned it was f............