death of the woman.  With a bound I cleared the prostrate form of Mahomed.  As I flew over him I felt the heat from the red-hot pot, which was lying close by, strike upon my legs, and by its glow saw his hands—­for he was not quite dead—­still feebly moving.  At the top of the cave was a little platform of rock three feet or so high by about eight deep, on which two large lamps were placed at night.  Whether this platform had been left as a seat, or as a raised point afterwards to be cut away when it had served its purpose as a standing place from which to carry on the excavations, I do not know—­at least, I did not then.  At any rate, we all three reached it, and, jumping on it, prepared to sell our lives as dearly as we could.  For a few seconds the crowd that was pressing on our heels hung back when they saw us face round upon them.  Job was on one side of the rock to the left, Leo in the centre, and I to the right.  Behind us were the lamps.  Leo bent forward, and looked down the long lane of shadows, terminating in the fire and lighted lamps, through which the quiet forms of our would-be murderers flitted to and fro with the faint light glinting on their spears, for even their fury was silent as a bulldog’s.  The only other thing visible was the red-hot pot still glowing angrily in the gloom.  There was a curious light in Leo’s eyes, and his handsome face was set like a stone.  In his right hand was his heavy hunting-knife.  He shifted its thong a little up his wrist and then put his arm round me and gave me a good hug.

“Good-bye, old fellow,” he said, “my dear friend—­my more than father.  We have no chance against those scoundrels; they will finish us in a few minutes, and eat us afterwards, I suppose.  Good-bye.  I led you into this.  I hope you will forgive me.  Good-bye, Job.”

“God’s will be done,” I said, setting my teeth, as I prepared for the end.  At that moment, with an exclamation, Job lifted his revolver and fired, and hit a man—­not the man he had aimed at, by the way:  anything that Job shot at was perfectly safe.

On they came with a rush, and I fired too as fast as I could, and checked them—­between us, Job and I, besides the woman, killed or mortally wounded five men with our pistols before they were emptied.  But we had no time to reload, and they still came on in a way that was almost splendid in its recklessness, seeing that they did not know but that we could go on firing for ever.

A great fellow bounded up upon the platform, and Leo struck him dead with one blow of his powerful arm, sending the knife right through him.  I did the same by another, but Job missed his stroke, and I saw a brawny Amahagger grip him by the middle and whirl him off the rock.  The knife not being secured by a thong fell from Job’s hand as he did so, and, by a most happy accident for him, lit upon its handle on the rock, just as the body of the Amahagger, who was undermost, struck upon its point and was transfixed