"Hold 'em, Dan, I'm with you!"
Dan heard the cry, and at the same moment saw one of his attackers drop with an arrow through the chest.
Dick Oakwood was at home in the saddle and now he drove furiously at the remaining Arab, who was almost on top of Dan with scimiter upraised ready to deliver a fatal blow.
Dan reached for an arrow. But his quiver was empty!
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 Dick 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 Dick'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. Dick 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 Dick 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, Dick! 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.
Dick 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 Dick, while the latter directed his friend:
"Grab the stirrup, Dan! Now run like blazes! There they come!"
Dan snatched at the stirrup and as Dick 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 grasshopper!"
Over his head whizzed the bullets of the galloping Arabs, who were joining in the chase, and the cliffs ahead seemed very far away.
Dick 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 Dick 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 Dick. "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 Dick 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 Dick 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 Dick 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 god 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 Dick.
"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 Dick, 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 Dick, he remained among the last. The horse he had captured was at the spring with its muzzle deep in the cool water.
Dick 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.
Dick 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.
A few bullets sang through the air and flattened on the rocks beside him, but there was no volley of rifle shots, for at that moment the majority of the Arabs and their mounts were trying to quench their thirst at the spring.
As Dick reached the top of the cliffs and put his horse to a trot on the level stretch, he was greeted with wild shouts of joy by his followers. They had not seen a man on horseback until the Arabs raided them and it seemed like a superhuman feat to bestride a four legged beast and drive it up a cliff side.
"Tahara, hal! Tahara!" they shouted.
Raal ran toward his hero and cried, "Tell us what to do, O Master! Never have we seen such demons, with sticks that speak like thunder and dart out fire. But we do not fear them! You are our king and our leader and with you we shall conquer."
"They're rooting for you, Dick!" cried Dan Carter.
"Yes, and I'vegotto save them now."
Dick rode to the edge of the cliff and looked over. The Arabs had taken possession of the spring and quenched their thirst. The horses and camels were all watered and refreshed and the invaders lolled about, stuffing themselves with dates, figs and the other fruits they found there.
If they were planning to attack the stronghold of the tribe on the cliffs it was clear that they expected to wait until they were thoroughly rested. Perhaps the next morning would be the time for the assault.
As Dick watched them, sitting on his horse, a bullet suddenly sang close to his ear and a second later the report of a rifle rang out. Some sniper had taken careful aim, hoping to bring down the leader of the Taharans, and Dick realized how careless he had been in exposing himself.
He wheeled his horse away from the edge and Dan hurried to him.
"Hurt, Dick?"
"Not a scratch, Dan!"
"That's lucky. Lucky for you and all of us. We would be lost without you."
"We may be, anyhow. Dan, how can we fight off those raiders? They are armed with guns, old style single-shot, Arab guns, to be sure, but at that, they are more than a match for stone hatchets and spears."
"Or even bows and arrows," agreed Dan. "Looks as though we were up against it."
"Well, there's one thing we can do. Defend the cliffs and keep them from coming any farther."
"Yes, we can roll rocks down on them if they start to climb, and if any get to the top, we can fight them off before they get a foothold."
Raal and Kulki approached followed by the old chief of the Gorols, Wabiti. Evidently they wanted a council and Dick asked them to say what was on their minds.
"Advise me, O mighty warriors!" he said.
Raal spoke first. "I say, do not wait. We are many and we are brave. Let us sweep down upon them from the cliff and destroy them."
"Yes, but you forget the sticks that speak like thunder and carry death," said Wabiti.
Kulki spoke out: "No matter, some of us must perish, but the rest will fight on. I say, wait until it is dark, then my Gorol braves will slip up on them and kill. We Gorols are dark-skinned and cannot be seen in the night like the pale Taharans."
"That is good advice," said Dick.
But the old Chief Wabiti spoke up, shaking his gray head dolefully:
"Our enemies use strong magic. Their thunder sticks hurl death and they ride on fire-breathing monsters that travel like the wind. We can do nothing against them without even stronger magic."
"That's all bunk," snorted Dan.
But Wabiti went on, "Nothing but magic will save us. If only the Great Gorol, the Ape-god had not been destroyed, he would save us."
"I like Kulki's advice better," said Dick. "And I like Raal's valiant words. We will gather the strong warriors among the Taharans and the Gorols and tonight when it is dark we will attack the Arab camp with arrows and spears. If we fight like men we can drive them off. No other magic is needed."
"Tahara, hal!" cried Kulki. "Tahara, good!"
"We fight and win," shouted Raal.
"Attaboy!" Dan cried.
Only Wabiti was not satisfied. He went away, shaking his head in gloomy thought and wandered in the forest, muttering invocations to the Ape-god of his fathers. Among the rocks he came upon a shelter which had been built of boughs for the old Queen Vanga by her maidens, and the two former rulers talked bitterly of the evils that had come to their tribes since they had ceased to reign.
While Dick Oakwood and Dan were busy with Raal and Kulki, organizing the forces of the two tribes for a night attack on the invaders, the two old leaders, shorn of their power, sat in the dark forest, plotting and grumbling.
"The old ways are the best," muttered Wabiti. "It brought nothing but misfortune when our Great Gorol was broken to bits."
"The old ways are the only right ways," said Vanga, her sharp features screwed into a grimace of hatred. "Once our tribe had a wise man, a one-eyed witch-doctor named Cimbula, who could always help us when the gods were angry. Now we have Tahara, but as for me, I like Cimbula better. His single eye glowed like fire and terrified all the tribe. But he treated me with respect and his magic was strong."
Vanga spoke sharply to her handmaidens, "Don't sit there doing nothing! You, Veena, bring a basket of fruit and a gourd of honey and crushed grapes for my friend the great Chief Wabiti."
"I hear, I obey," said the girl obediently and went to fetch them.
"As for you others," Vanga ordered, "scatter in the mountains. Call aloud for Cimbula and look in all the caves where he may be hiding. Perhaps he can save us yet."
So while the old chieftain and the ex-queen plotted, the women and girls searched among the wilds of the Gorol Land mountains calling in their plaintive, shrill voices, "Cimbula! Come out of hiding, O mighty magic worker!"
The witch-doctor heard the call, but was in no hurry to answer.
Since he had been driven out of the tribe when Dick Oakwood was crowned, the treacherous medicine man had lurked in the high hills, biding his time.
With only one disciple, a youth named Keltan to bring him food and act as spy among the tribesmen, Cimbula brooded over his loss of power and planned revenge.
"Go, Keltan," he directed his slave, "ask who wants Cimbula and why? But do not say that you know where I am to be found. Just learn what you can and bring me word in secret."
Through the forest rang the faint, high-pitched call, "Cimbula! Return to us, O Master of wizardry!"
Cimbula grinned and his single eye glowed in triumph.
The hour had come for him to be again a power in the land.
"Dan, I am going to post you here at the edge of the cliff," said Dick Oakwood. "Stay hidden among the rocks, or some sniper will take a shot at you."
"Don't worry, Dick, I'll keep out of sight," said Dan.
"And if you see any sign of attack in the Arab camp, let out a yell of alarm."
"You're tellingme? Nobody will have to ask me to do that little thing."
"The rest of us are going to be busy getting ready for the night attack," Dick explained. "We have to assemble the two tribes, select the best men for the battle and see to it that they have plenty of arrows and other weapons."
"Okay. You've given me a soft job," said Dan. "I can play sentinel all day. Now if I only had a big bunch of dates to eat and a good book to read—" he added laughing.
"Say, you'd make a great soldier," cried Dick. "You're the sort of soldier that goes to the guard house for the duration of the war."
"Go on. I was just kidding!"
"Well, big boy, this is serious. Here, I'll lend you the binoculars and you keep your eyes on the Arabs down there. If they start to climb the cliffs, we will roll big rocks on them and give them something to remember us by."
But the Arabs seemed satisfied to take things easy for a while.
Dan took the binoculars and after a brief survey of the Arab camp, began to search the horizon in all directions.
"I was just thinking," he explained, "that this would be a great time for my dad to make his appearance in the cabin plane."
"No such luck, Dan! Don't even think of it. I made your father promise to leave the tribes to me without interference."
"I'm hoping he may shorten the time of even forget that he made such a promise," said Dan. "Gee! Wouldn't it be great to see that big plane come sailing toward us?"
"With white men and guns to chase off those Arab slavers!" Dick added. "Yes, it would be fine, Dan. But don't expect it. Your father and mine are busy on the Pomegranate Oasis. They don't dream that we are in danger."
"That's right! Wouldn't it be wonderful if people could send word by their thoughts. A kind of human radio."
"There is something like that," said Dick Oakwood. "It is called telepathy, but not much is known about it. People who have the gift can send or receive messages sent by another person's mind."
"Aw go on. Quit kidding!"
"I'm not kidding. Lots of Hindu mystics in India have the gift."
"Well if I had it, I would send a hurry-up call to Ray," said Dan. "I'd say, 'Sister get busy and tell everybody on the Oasis that we're in danger. Load up the cabin plane with rifles and get here before we're all killed.'"
"Listen, Dan, you're not going to get killed, and I don't like to hear you talk that way. Snap out of it, boy! We're going to put up a fight that will make those Arabs wish they had never bothered us."
"You can count on me," said Dan.
The Boy King shook his friend's hand and clapped him on the shoulder, then turned away to organize his force of tribesmen. Dick summoned Raal and ordered, "Look over all the Taharans. Pick out the best men for tonight's attack and tell them what they are to do."
"I hear, I obey, O Tahara."
"Good. And let no man be idle. Even those who are wounded, but able to work, must keep busy. They can make arrows and spears, for we will need plenty of weapons."
"Yes, O Master."
Dick summoned Kulki.
"What about your Gorols? Are they all assembled?"
"Not all, Master. Some have strayed off to the woods. They are not trained to obey like the Taharans."
"Round up all you can find," said Dick, "and make sure that only the reliable men are chosen for the raid."
"Yes, Master."
"Send out others to collect pitchwood for torches and stones to roll down the cliff. Every man must do something useful."
"I hear, O Tahara."
"I would speak to Wabiti, your father."
"He is not here, Master," said Kulki. "Wabiti is old and his thoughts are not as ours. He has gone away into the woods."
"If Wabiti is up to mischief, it will go hard with him," said Dick. "Are your brothers faithful to me?"
"I think so, Master. If I knew that one was a traitor, I would slay him with my own hands."
There was no doubt of Kulki's loyalty. His primitive features and dark eyes expressed the eagerness to serve the Boy King of the two tribes.
"It is well," said Dick.
"Tonight the Arabs will be driven to defeat and shameful flight before the moon rises. Let every man be ready."
"All will be ready to die for you, O Tahara!"
Dick turned away to look after Kurt and the other wounded warriors and found that they were being tended by old women of the tribes who were skilled in treating cuts with medicinal leaves.
Kurul had come through with only slight scratches and was in attendance as his body guard.
"I need no guard," said Dick. "You Kurul, take six of the fleetest warriors and hunt in the hills for game. Before sunset we will all eat and drink to build up our strength and as soon as it is dark we will strike a blow that will rid the land of our enemies."
With all these preparations for battle, the day passed swiftly. Dick's main worry was that Jess Slythe might appear in his stolen monoplane and drop bombs upon the tribesmen as he had done before. Of course his fears might be groundless. Dick was not sure whether the fellow was still alive or whether his plane had crashed in the desert, but until he was assured of the man's death, he would have reason to fear him. If Slythe should reappear and drop grenades on the tribesmen, that would give the Arabs a chance to storm the cliffs without resistance, and would lead to the destruction of the natives and his own death as well.
But the treacherous flyer was busy elsewhere, it seemed, for theMeteoritedid not appear, and as the sun sank low, Dick breathed more freely and gave orders for the last meal before the battle.
Down in the Arab camp, Abdul and Suli were also watching anxiously for the plane and cursing Jess Slythe, who had disappointed them.
"By the beard of the Prophet!" cried the Arab chief, "that dog has betrayed us."
"What trickery can he be up to?" mused Suli, staring for the hundredth time at the heavens.
"Allah alone knows what the knave is doing! But it is for no profit but his own."
"How can he expect us to storm these cliffs without his help?" exclaimed Abdul.
"We would be crushed by stones and pierced by arrows," said Suli. "Nothing for it but to wait until tomorrow. Today, it is too late to even try."
"We will send out scouts to see whether there is an easier passage beyond the cliffs.—A way where we could go up on our horses and take the savages by surprise."
"They are stubborn, hard-fighting fellows," said Suli. "By the Prophet, Abdul, we will find it hard to make slaves of such men."
"You are right. They are not like the black fellows we have captured in the past. These men were not born to be conquered. We will have to fight for all the profit we make in this venture."
The two leaders of the Bedouin slave traders scowled at the cliffs that loomed so high above the spring where they had camped. From the grim black edges, arose a fringe of smoke; the fires where the Gorols and the Taharans were roasting game for the feast before the battle.
The sky had turned flaming red, the glory of the sunset was over the desert and a deliciously cool breeze followed the parching heat of the day.
At the same time the old Gorol Chief, Wabiti, was squatting cross-legged in the rude shelter where the ex-queen Vanga had taken refuge. Both of the former rulers had repeated their grievances and grumbled about the changes in the tribe until they were in a mood of revolt.
"If only I had my warriors again!" muttered Vanga.
"And if I could lead my brave Gorols, as I did when I was younger, things would be different!"
"Tahara brought us woe!"
"He destroyed the Great Gorol!"
"Now he sets me to spinning and weaving! Is that fit work for a queen?"
"And he has made Kulki leader in my place," growled Wabiti. "Only a few Gorols obey my orders, and they are the weaklings of the tribe."
"We have come upon evil days, O Wabiti."
"Evil days, O Vanga. I do not hold with these new weapons like bows and arrows."
"Nor I. When Cimbula was my chief adviser, all was happy in the land."
"Would that Cimbula were here," grunted Wabiti.
Suddenly as if he had been waiting to be called, the witch-doctor leaped from the shadowy forest and capered in a wild dance before them.
Cimbula was arrayed once more in the brightly-colored head-dress of feathers and tufts of fur on his elbows, knees and ankles. His lean old body was streaked and daubed with paint and around his eyes, one blind and one sound, were painted scarlet rings that gave him a horrible appearance.
In one hand he brandished a long stone knife, in the other he held the painted gourd filled with pebbles, which he rattled menacingly.
"Who calls Cimbula?" he shouted hoarsely. "Lo, as I was floating in the skies, I heard my name spoken and I come!"
Again he leaped high and the gourd sounded like a nest of angry rattlesnakes as he shook it.
Vanga and Wabiti shrank back in superstitious dread, while the old queen's maidens gave shrill and penetrating screeches of terror.
"Cimbula! Have mercy!" they screamed, and Wabiti's followers among the Gorols came running and stopped suddenly, held back by fear, crying hoarsely, "Cimbula! Cimbula, do not destroy us!" Vanga spoke her mind.
"We called the mighty Cimbula because strange enemies have driven us from our caves."
"Show me the enemies," bellowed Cimbula. "I will slay them all."
His one eye glared hatred and defiance and his flint blade swished through the air.
"Tahara could not save us," said Vanga. "Since he came here, our troubles have multiplied."
"Never before have raiders swarmed upon us from the desert," growled Wabiti.
"They have driven us from our caves," shrilled Vanga.
There were mutters of assent from the listeners, while Cimbula glared silently as if planning some deadly reprisal.
Then among the growling murmurs rose the clear protesting voice of the little maiden Veena.
"Why do you speak evil of Tahara? He fought the Arabs. He is a mighty warrior. Even now he gathers the tribes to drive off the enemy!"
Instantly there was an uproar.
Cimbula vented a bellow of rage. The Gorols with Wabiti howled in protest and Vanga cried sharply,
"Be still. Who askedyouto speak?"
"Imustspeak. Tahara is good. He alone can save us."
"We shall see!" snarled the witch-doctor. "I, Cimbula, will drive away the foe."
"Cimbula, hal! Cimbula!" cried the rest.
"This very night I will show you that Cimbula is mighty in magic. See, already, the sun has set. Soon it will be dark. I will show you all that where Tahara fails, Cimbula wins."
The witch-doctor laid violent hands on the terrified Veena and wrenched her arms until she screamed with pain.
"You shall come with me!" he shouted. "The blood of a maiden is required to mix the strong magic I am brewing tonight."
Veena's screams were drowned by the chanting of Wabiti's Gorols and the shrill cries of Vanga's women.
"Take her, Cimbula! She is yours!"
"Cimbula, hal!" boomed the Gorols, and the ex-queen Vanga added: "Death to Tahara!"
"Come on, Dan, here's where the fun begins," cried Dick Oakwood.
By the light of pitch torches he reviewed his army, the Taharans under Raal; blond, stalwart fighters; and the Gorols, commanded by Kulki.
The Gorols were more numerous but though they were tough and wiry fellows, they were not equal to the Taharans in size or war-like powers. Dark-skinned and hairy, they resembled an army of giant apes as they slouched in the ranks, while the Taharans stood proudly upright and at their chief's signal, raised their stone weapons aloft and gave a mighty cheer.
Dick, with Dan beside him as his chief lieutenant, gave final instructions to his two troop leaders.
"You, Kulki, go first with your Gorols. Climb silently down the cliffs to the south of the Big Spring where the Arabs are camped. When you are all on the plain, light your torches, plant them in the ground among the brush and raise a great uproar of shouting the war cries. Do you understand?"
"I understand, O Tahara!"
"Then when the Arabs rush to attack you, meet them with a shower of arrows and quietly climb part way up the cliffs. Leave the torches in the ground to deceive the Arabs and as they charge upon that spot, you can shoot at them from the cliffside with more arrows."
"I hear, Master, I obey!" said Kulki.
"Good! Make sure that every man knows what he is to do."
Dick turned to Raal and continued:
"You, Raal, take your brave Taharans down the cliff to the north of the Arab camp. Be quiet and give no alarm. Then when the Gorols raise the war cry and the Arabs rush to fight them off, follow with your Taharans and attack the enemy from the rear. Use bows and arrows first; then rush in with stone axes and flint knives. In a hand-to-hand fight, their long guns will be useless."
"I hear, Master. I rejoice in a hand-to-hand battle."
"Good! I will be in a position to oversee the battle, for Dan and I will climb down the cliff above the Big Spring, and when your Taharans charge, I will join you."
Dan reminded his friend, "Be sure to tell them about the signal for attack."
Dick replied. "You are right.—This is the signal. You, Kulki, when you reach your position, will give a long call like the hyena. Raal will answer with a wolf howl. When you hear the howl of the wolf, it is the signal to open the battle."
"I hear, O Tahara."
"We obey, O Master."
The two chiefs saluted and withdrew to their troops and the climb down the cliffs began, silently in the night.
Dick and Dan looked down over the edge of the cliffs and saw the camp fires of the Arabs below them, with shadowy figures moving about or squatting by the glowing coals.
Then the two boys began their slow difficult climb down the rocky face, using every care to move quietly. A single rock dislodged and bouncing down the cliffside would put the Arabs on guard and this must be a surprise attack to be a successful one.
When Dick and Dan finally reached a ledge about a hundred feet above the camp, they were only too glad to sit there and rest. The descent of that steep slope in the dark was hard work; their hands were scratched and bleeding and their muscles felt the strain.
"We will just sit here and take it easy for a while," said Dick.
"It is like being in a circus waiting for the show to begin," replied Dan. "If only——"
"I know what you're going to say," Dick chuckled, "if only we had a couple of bags of peanuts and a bottle of pop, it would be perfect."
Dan admitted, laughingly, that refreshments would be welcome, but Dick grabbed his friend's arm.
"Look yonder, Dan."
"Where?"
"Up near the mouth of Cimbula's cave. What's going on there?"
"Men with torches. That's funny! It's the wrong direction for the torches to appear."
"And there has been no signal yet."
"This is something that is not on the program. Jumping Jiminy! I hope it's not going to spoil our party."
Things moved rapidly.
A procession with torches appeared from the wrong direction and at the head of a crowd of grotesquely painted figures, leaped and cavorted an unearthly apparition in feathered head-dress and fur tufts.
"Cimbula!" gasped Dick.
"What is that old fool up to?" Dan exclaimed.
"They are leading some prisoner among them," said Dick. "It looks like a girl, but her face is covered with her hair."
"It's a Taharan girl. Cimbula must be trying to buy off the Arabs with the gift of a slave."
"What a dog!"
"He is wrecking our whole plan of battle."
The boys looked on in suspense as the witch-doctor approached the Arab camp, capering and shaking his rattling gourd. The others who followed were imitating him, for Cimbula had decided that a magic dance of demons would terrify the raiders, and therefore he had dressed up a dozen of Wabiti's men in a garb like his own and painted their bodies with stripes and daubs of white.
Whirling and leaping the demon dancers approached the Arab camp, while one of the natives brandished a flint knife above the head of the bound victim.
"If the Arabs take fright at this hocus-pocus, they are bigger fools than I take them to be," growled Dick.
"More likely they are laughing at the medicine-man," Dan exclaimed. "Look, they are rushing the procession."
With shouts of derision the Arabs leaped to their horses and raced toward the intruders, No shots were fired. The Arabs did not want to kill the demon dancers, but shrieked with laughter as they charged them, bowled over Cimbula and scattered his followers.
"Look," said Dick. "It's not a fight. The Arabs are rounding up those fellows. They came here for slaves, and now they have got some."
"Serves Cimbula right! I hope they keep him at hard labor for life!"
"I'm sorry for the others though.—Listen. There goes the first signal!"
From the south came the call of a desert hyena, a long unearthly sound of laughter.
Amid the hubbub of the Arab camp, the signal was not noticed by the enemy, but Raal was evidently on the alert, for soon a long wolf howl answered from the north.
"Good!" cried Dick Oakwood. "Cimbula's little show did not spoil the big circus, after all. Now Dan, you're going to see a fight."
To the south of the camp a torch flared among the brush. Another was lighted and another. Soon the place where the Gorols had assembled was a confusion of dancing lights, flaring and smoking.
A war cry arose among the flames, a shrill cry of "Tahara, Rax!"
"Give 'em the axe!" chuckled Dan. "Atta-boy, Kulki! Now the fun begins."
A few shots from the Arabs produced an immediate effect among the torches. They no longer moved, but held their places quietly.
"Get that?" muttered Dick. "Kulki's men stuck their torches in the ground. Now they must be climbing up the cliffs in the dark."
As the Arab horsemen charged the brush where the torches flamed they were met by a stinging shower of arrows coming from unseen foes. At once their cries of "Allah, il Allah," were changed to howls of anger and shrieks from the wounded. Yet they charged on, shooting at the torches and driving ahead with flashing scimiters.
But the Gorols were not near the torches and shot more and more arrows from places of safety.
"Give 'em the axe!" cried Dan. "Here come the Taharans!"
As he spoke, Raal's men raced in open formation upon the disorganized Arabs, only pausing long enough to discharge a flight of arrows at the enemy.
Now the Arabs, caught between two attacking troops, were at a loss which way to face.
Dick, with Dan at his heels, scrambled down from the ledge of the cliff side and joined the Taharans with the war cry:
"Tahara Rax!"
"Give 'em the axe!" echoed Dan.
"The axe!"
"The axe, the axe!"
The terrifying shouts of the Taharans, charging upon the Arabs, drowned out the battle cry of, "Allah il Allah."
Hand to hand the Stone-Age men struggled fiercely with the Bedouins, leaping at them like wild cats, pulling them from their mounts, swinging their keen-edged hatchets of flint and their short knives of stone with deadly effect.
All the advantage of gunpowder and horses was lost in that battle in the dark.
The Arabs fought madly with their swords and daggers, but such weapons were not much more effective than the stone knives and axes. Therefore the Arabs began to give away, for their raid had been upon supposedly weak tribesmen, and instead they were facing better fighters than themselves.
Yet stubbornly they fought on. There was nothing else to do—a case of kill or be killed.
"Give it to 'em!" cried Dick.
"Give 'em the axe," shouted Dan.
"Let out your bull-roaring voice," said Dick to Raal. "Call the Gorols to join in!"
Raal gave a war cry that summoned Kulki and his Gorols to clamber down from the rocks and take part in the battle.
From the ledges of the cliff came the shrill reply of Kulki's dark-skinned fighters, and instantly the Arabs were engaged in a life-and-death struggle with new forces.
The Gorols plunged into the fray, carrying their lances, and whenever the burnous of an Arab showed pale in the darkness, a Gorol plunged his spearhead with telling effect.
"Go it, Gorols!" shouted Dan.
"Give 'em the axe!" Dick cried. "After them, boys! They're giving way."
The tide of battle had turned against the raiders. The Arabs on the fringe of the fray turned their horses toward the desert and galloped away. The Bedouins who were guarding the prisoners mounted them on the camels and fled in a body. Abdul and Suli swore by Allah and his prophet that they would return and take vengeance on the tribe, but they saw that the battle was lost.
Many of their men had been slain or badly wounded, and their horses were running wild in the melee; there was no chance to organize their force, for wherever they turned were the hatchets of the Taharans and the spears of the Gorols.
"Give it to 'em!" shouted Dick. "We've got 'em on the run."
"Back to home-sweet-home!" laughed Dan. "They want you back in dear old Araby."
Abdul shouted the signal to retreat. Those Arabs who could escape did so without a second command and the battle was over.
Dick and Dan both caught at the bridles of Arab horses and succeeded in capturing mounts, but there was no use in giving chase in the dark.
"Tell your men to get all the guns and weapons they can," Dick ordered the chiefs of the two tribes. "And catch all the horses you can."
"We hear, O Master!"
"Tahara has brought us victory. Praise to our king!"
The chiefs answered with shouts of triumph and the tribesmen joined in. No longer was there any doubt in their minds, Tahara, Boy King of the Desert, was a mighty warrior and a bringer of victory.
The rising sun showed Taharans and Gorols in fantastic array beside the Big Spring. They were dressed in such parts of the Arab garb as they had captured, and carried what weapons had been found on the battlefield.
A dozen guns and horses were among the loot, also ammunition, daggers and swords. Even a camel had been taken, but it was lame from a shot, and was promptly butchered for a feast.
While they were all enjoying a hot meal that morning, Dick explained to the natives who had captured the guns, how to use them, but the old-fashioned fire-arms were not of much value except to the Arabs who were used to them.
After breakfast, he showed the most intelligent of the tribesmen how to ride the captured horses. They were fearless fellows and managed to stay on, somehow, and Kulki, who was one of the best men of the tribe, showed promise of becoming an expert horseman in short order.
"Wait until we round up the wild horses and break them!" said Dan. "Then you will see some fun."
Dick explained to Raal, who was keen to learn the new sport, the principles of taming and riding unbroken horses and the Taharan chief was eager to begin.
With a deep bow he begged Dick to accept an Arab gun he had captured and declared that when his tribe had learned to ride the wild horses, they would all set out to find the Arabs and raid them in turn.
Suddenly they were interrupted. Queen Vanga came to them, weeping and tearing her hair.
"Cimbula is gone!" she cried. "Where is Cimbula?"
Dan laughed.
"Your boy-friend was taken by the Arabs," he said. "You'll never see him again."
"I hope not," said Dick.
"The Arabs will put him on the chain gang," chuckled Dan.
"Never!" cried the old queen when Dan's remark was explained to her. "Cimbula works strong magic. If he is taken by the Arabs, Cimbula will become their chief."
"There may be something in that," said Dan. "The witch-doctor is clever enough to get out of any kind of a scrape."
Vanga began weeping afresh.
"Why the water-works now?" asked Dan.
Raal questioned her and his face grew red with fury.
"Veena has been stolen," he cried. "The girl with Cimbula was the Princess Veena."
Dan felt his heart stand still. The pretty little maiden, a prisoner of the Arabs! She was fond of him and while he did not love her, he resolved that she must be rescued.
"Let me have a horse," cried Raal. "I will catch up with the Arabs and bring her back."
He was beside himself with fury. "Tahara, O Mighty King, use all your magic to save the girl I love."
Dick grasped his hand and promised: "I will help you!"
"Now, let us start now."
"We will all go!" cried Dan Carter.
"Yes! All, all!" echoed the warriors. Tahara and Gorols alike were excited by the news. The capture of Cimbula and his followers was not so bad, for everybody dreaded the witch-doctor and his disciples were hated.
But Veena was a favorite of all.
"We will take the captured horses!" urged Raal, "and overtake the raiders."
"Those are bold words," said Dick, "but they are not the words of wisdom. Stop and think. Ten men at the most against a hundred! What chance would you have?"
"We will risk it," Raal stormed.
"And lose all chance of rescuing Veena? No. We must prepare for a long journey first—and at the end a hard battle."
"How long must we wait?"
"Until our warriors have tamed wild horses and learned to ride them. Also we must carry food and water bags for a long trail across the desert."
Raal was in despair.
"And until then, we will know nothing of the maiden. I would rather set out alone than that."
At his words, all fell silent, thinking gloomy thoughts. Finally Dick said:
"Here is a way out. Kulki can ride better than any of the tribesmen, and has ventured farther on the desert than the rest."
"That is true!" cried Kulki. "Let me go out and rescue the maiden."
"Not so fast. Take three of your men who can stay on horseback. Carry water and food and follow the trail of the raiders. Can you try?"
"We will do that, O Master!"
"Do not try to fight the Arabs, that would only put them on their guard. But find out where they are taking the captives and bring us word. Will you?"
"Gladly, O Master."
"By the time you return," added Dick Oakwood, "I will have our warriors trained to ride the wild horses and to shoot arrows while they ride, yes and to throw spears from the saddle."
"Tahara, hal!"
"Then we will set out and punish the raiders!"
"Tahara Rax! The axe! The axe!"
With shouts of vengeance, the tribesmen accepted Dick's plan. Even Raal, anxious as he was to set out at once, saw the wisdom of the plan.
"ButIwould go with Kulki. Now!" he begged.
"If you did, what would happen? You would try to fight the Arabs then and there. All would be lost."
Raal agreed.
"Let me work day and night getting ready for the rescue!" he exclaimed. "Then I will not grieve."
"We will begin now," Dick answered.
"You will be chief horse-breaker," Dan assured Raal. "In a week you'll be a regular Arizona bronco-buster."
Kulki and his chosen three began preparations for the trail at once. That same day they set out, mounted on Arab horses and carrying water and food. Kulki refused a gun. The "stick that spoke like thunder" was a magic he did not understand.
As for Raal and his Taharans, they wasted no time but set to work rounding up all the small wild horses that they could find among the hills, while Dan and Dick showed the others how to build a corral for the animals.