If
he had, this contretemps would not have happened. His telegraphic
flashes, long and short, must have told the enemy what was going on in
the tower, but they could not have seen him standing there, exposed like
a target to their fire, if Rostafel had not lit the bonfires.
Suddenly a chorus of yells broke out, strange yells that sprang from
savage hearts; and one sidewise glance down showed Stephen the desert
illuminated with red fire. He went on with his work, not stopping to
count the men on horses and camels who rode fast towards the bordj,
though not yet at the foot of that swelling sand hill on which it stood.
But a picture--of uplifted dark faces and pointing rifles--was stamped
upon his brain in that one swift look, clear as an impression of a seal
in hot wax. He had even time to see that those faces were half enveloped
in masks such as he had noticed in photographs of Touaregs, yet he was
sure that the twenty or thirty men were not Touaregs. When close to the
bordj all flung themselves from their animals, which were led away,
while the riders took cover by throwing themselves flat on the sand.
Then they began shooting, but he looked no more. He was determined to
keep on signalling till he got an answer or was shot dead.
There were others, however, who looked and saw the faces, and the rifles
aimed at the broken tower. The bonfires which showed the figure in the
ruined heliographing-room, to the enemy, also showed the enemy to the
watchers in the wall-towers, on opposite sides of the gates.
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