"Well?" questioned the doctor.
"It is he, doctor!"
"He!" exclaimed Ferguson with emotion.
"It is he! no other!" and it was needless to pronounce
the name.
"Yes! it is he! on horseback, and only a hundred
paces in advance of his enemies! He is pursued!"
"It is Joe--Joe himself!" cried the doctor, turning pale.
"He cannot see us in his flight!"
"He will see us, though!" said the doctor, lowering
the flame of his blow-pipe.
"But how?"
"In five minutes we shall be within fifty feet of the
ground, and in fifteen we shall be right over him!"
"We must let him know it by firing a gun!"
"No! he can't turn back to come this way. He's
headed off!"
"What shall we do, then?"
"We must wait."
"Wait?--and these Arabs!"
"We shall overtake them. We'll pass them. We are
not more than two miles from them, and provided that
Joe's horse holds out!"
"Great God!" exclaimed Kennedy, suddenly.
"What is the matter?"
Kennedy had uttered a cry of despair as he saw Joe
fling himself to the ground. His horse, evidently
exhausted, had just fallen headlong.
"He sees us!" cried the doctor, "and he motions to
us, as he gets upon his feet!"
"But the Arabs will overtake him! What is he
waiting for? Ah! the brave lad! Huzza!" shouted the
sportsman, who could no longer restrain his feelings.
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