There were the stalls where the animals were tied.
The Arabs could use the beasts for a living barricade, firing over their
backs. Stephen grudged this advantage, and was puzzling his brain how to
prevent the enemy from taking it, when a great light blazed into the
sky, followed by the roar of an explosion.
The tower shook, and Stephen was thrown off his feet. For half a second
he was dazed, but came to himself in the act of tumbling down stairs,
still grasping his rifle.
A huge hole yawned where the gate had stood. The iron had shrivelled and
curled like so much cardboard, and the gap was filled with circling
wreaths of smoke and a crowd of Arabs. Mad with fear, the camels and
horses tethered in the stables of the bordj broke their halters and
plunged wildly about the courtyard, looming like strange monsters in
the red light and belching smoke. As if to serve the defenders, they
galloped toward the gate, cannoning against each other in the struggle
to escape, and thus checked the first rush of the enemy. Nearly all were
shot down by the Arabs, but a few moments were gained for the Europeans.
Firing as he ran, Stephen made a dash for the barricade, where he found
Rostafel, and as the enemy swarmed into the quadrangle, pouring over
dead and dying camels, the two Highlanders burst with yells like the
slogans of their fighting ancestors, out from the watch-towers nearest
the gateway.
The sudden apparition of these gigantic twin figures, bare-legged,
dressed in kilts, appalled the Arabs.
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