Chapter 25 | After the Scare | Yussuf the Guide

The sides of the gorge took up the report of Lawrence’s fowling-piece, and a volley of echoes ran rapidly along the valley; but that was no echo which rang out directly after, for there were two bright flashes, and a couple of shots that were magnified into terrific sounds, as they too rolled along the deep passage between the rocks.

To Lawrence they seemed to be the answer to his fire from the enemy, and, in the excitement of the moment, before attempting to reload, he fired again, the flash from his piece cutting the darkness and resulting in another volley of echoes.

Then there was a hoarse shout given in a commanding voice, followed by a shrill yell, and what seemed to be quite a large body of horsemen thundered by, while directly after, as Lawrence was trying to reload his piece, the darkness was cut again twice over by a couple of clear flashes, and the rocks rang out in a series of echoes as if a company of infantry had drawn trigger at the word of command.

Meanwhile the beating of hoofs continued, growing more distant minute by minute, till the sounds died away.

Then they rose again as if the band were returning, but it was only the reflected sound from the great face of some rock which they were approaching in their flight; and once more the noise faded, and Lawrence, as he stood there half petrified, heard a familiar voice shout:

“Lawrence! Lawrence, boy, are you there?”

“Yes, yes, Mr Preston; here.”

A low murmur came out of the darkness as if the professor had spoken some words, Lawrence never knew what, and the next minute they were together standing listening to the sound of footsteps, and their guide came panting up.

“What is it?” he cried.

Mr Preston explained, and Yussuf stood thinking for a few moments, and hit upon the solution of the mystery at once.

“I am not worthy of my name,” he cried. “I see it all now; they must have come round this way to surprise us.”

“And we have surprised them—so it seems,” said the professor coolly. “Our firing scared them. Will they come back?”

“Here! anyone killed? anyone killed?” cried Mr Burne excitedly, as he came panting up to his friends.

“I sincerely hope not,” said the professor; and he explained anew what had occurred. “But what is to be done now, Yussuf?”

“Excellency, I hardly know what to say. If we retreat at once it is a terrible march in the dark, and we should be much at our enemies’ mercy. If we stay here we are greatly exposed, but it is better to be on guard than retreating. I learned that when fighting with my people up northward against the Russ.”

“You think, then, that they will come back?”

“It is impossible to say, effendi. Perhaps not to-night, but we dare not trust them. We must be prepared.”

“Let us see to the horses,” cried Mr Preston. “Hamed!”

There was no reply, but, upon Yussuf shouting the name, a response came from far up the ravine, and they found that the horses were missing.

“Oh, yes; I forgot to tell you,” said Mr Burne; “they scampered up past me, when there was all that noise down below here. One of them nearly knocked me over.”

They soon found that Hamed had limped off in search of the horses which had taken fright, and but for the fact that Yussuf had hobbled their forelegs, they would have galloped away.

As it was they were soon secured, and, the party being divided into two watches, a careful guard was kept by one, while the other lay down to sleep with weapons ready to hand in case of an alarm.