Captured by the Arabs. Foster James H.

to open the door when Bob did so first.

      During the next few seconds Bob’s brain was in a whirl. He had half a mind to shoot the fellow outright and take no chances. But a moment later he thought better of it. He did not want to be guilty of murdering even this cruel Arab. If he had been as good a shot with a pistol as he was with a rifle, he would have shot the knife from the fellow’s hand. But as it was, he knew this could not be done.

      Suddenly the Arab lowered the knife and, scowling cruelly, he rushed at the youth furiously.

      Realizing that he must act quickly, Bob aimed at the man’s leg and fired. But his hand was unsteady from the terrific strain, and the bullet missed and lodged itself in the wall.

      With a hoarse bellow the Arab came forward with terrific force, muttering angrily. He had the knife in readiness now, and was about to plunge it into the youth’s body when something unexpected happened.

      Seeing a good chance, Bob pushed his foot forward with all his strength, bringing the man down with a thud that resounded through the little room. The Arab was taken completely unawares, and the knife went sliding across the floor.

      The next instant he was on his feet, and, showing his black teeth wickedly, he darted toward his young enemy, his large hands ready to grip anything they might rest on.

      Now was the time to act, Bob thought. Leaping forward, he sent his fist crashing into the Arab’s nose with all the strength in his powerful young body.

      The man reeled, backed up, and then fell against the wall. Another victim of the youth’s boxing ability had gone to his fate.

      Perspiration was dripping from the boy’s brow. His leg ached from the twist he gave it in bringing the Arab to the floor. Every muscle in his body seemed fatigued. For a brief moment a sensation of nothingness crept over him, and he felt slightly numb.

      With a start he regained his composure and, with one glance at the still limp Arab, he dashed through the door, the shining automatic still in his possession. One thought stood out in his mind above all others. He must find Fekmah.

      No one was in the alcove, but another door led out into a sort of hallway, and casting aside all thoughts of personal danger, Bob passed through it.

      The next instant he found himself in a narrow passageway, with no windows or other means to admit light. The semidarkness was tantalizing, overcoming, but the boy went bravely on. Occasionally he stopped to listen. But no sound reached his ears. Could it be possible that Fekmah had been…

      The thought was not a pleasant one, and Bob dismissed it from mind. Here was a door. Perhaps this would reveal something.

      As quietly as possible he turned the latch and peeped in the room.

      In the darkness he could make out no one at first. Then his eyes almost burst from his head as he saw, lying on the floor in the corner, tightly bound and gagged – Fekmah!

      For a moment Bob stood spellbound. Then he rushed over to the unfortunate man.

      “Fekmah,” he cackled gently and then bent over and felt of the Arab’s heart. It was still beating, and with a swift motion of a small knife Bob cut the ropes that bound the man. Then he removed the gag and stood back to see if his friend had been injured.

      The Arab’s eyes opened, and he sat up with a start. A moment later the look of fear vanished from his face as he saw Bob.

      “Praise be to Allah!” he murmured, getting feebly to his feet.

      “Are you hurt?” the youth asked.

      “No – not yet,” was the grim reply. “But the evil-doers were going to come back and kill me if I not tell where to find treasure. It is time now that they come. Let us go in haste, or they will stab us.”

      “Treasure?” cried Bob. “You mean they wanted you to tell where the hidden riches in the desert are?”

      “Yes. They were going torture me if I not tell. They are demons. Allah curse them!”

      “But how did they know?” demanded Bob. “How did they find out about it? They’re not the same ones who wrecked the train, are they?”

      Fekmah shook his head.

      “How they find out, I not know,” he said.

      Cautiously they made for the door and opened it. Satisfied that there was no one in sight, they walked through the hallway and into the alcove.

      “Now we must be careful,” Bob warned. “I knocked a man out a while ago, and he may have come to by now.”

      But when they reached the place, they found the fellow still limp.

      At sight of the Arab, Fekmah looked at Bob with admiration. It was evident that the youth had gone beyond his expectations.

      In a short time they reached the door into the first room and found that Dr. Kirshner was still guarding the Arabs. The scientist looked up in relief when he again saw Bob and Fekmah.

      “I feared something had happened to you,” the scientist said. “I shouldn’t have allowed you to go in there,” he said to Bob. “But I see you’ve done your duty and brought back Fekmah.”

      “But what shall we do now?” Bob asked. “Are there any officers to take charge of these crooks?”

      “Yes,” the archæologist returned. “You and Fekmah stay here and guard these men and I will go after them. It is best not to take them down to the police station for fear of attracting too much attention. Other Arab friends might charge us in a large band.”

      The next moment he was gone, after having promised that he would be back with officers in a few minutes.

      “There ought to be some way to get the fellow I knocked out in here,” Bob thought, as he guarded the Arabs closely. “But I’d better not risk letting Fekmah have the gun. I’ll trust the fellow is still out of his senses when Dr. Kirshner and the officers arrive.”

      The Arabs whom the youth was guarding were silent, but their evil faces suggested what they would do if given the chance.

      Bob was in a position where he could also watch the door in the next room. He was taking no chances on an attack from behind.

      “I bet Dad and the others are worried,” the boy thought. “We’ve been gone a long time.”

      Inside of ten minutes Dr. Kirshner was back with three native policemen, who handled the crooks roughly. Each man was handcuffed and made to walk in front of the officers.

      “Now,” said Dr. Kirshner, “suppose we get back to the hotel room. Our prolonged absence has probably caused a great deal of anxiety among our friends.”

      “Yes,” Bob returned. “We – ” He stopped suddenly and then dashed into the next room for the crook whom he had previously knocked out.

      But he was not surprised to find the man gone. An opened door revealed that he had escaped.

      “No use looking for him,” the youth thought, as he retraced his footsteps back to his companions.

      Bob was forced to explain to Dr. Kirshner, who was puzzled at the youth’s sudden dashing away. When he had finished, the scientist regarded him admiringly but warned him against taking unnecessary chances.

      “Those fellows would think nothing of stabbing you to death,” he said, shaking his head gravely.

      They went on up the street and arrived in a short time at the hotel in which were their friends. Up at Fekmah’s room they were given a hearty welcome.

      “What kept you so long?” asked Mr. Holton, seeing at a glance that something was wrong.

      Dr. Kirshner related the details of the previous happenings, laying stress on the pluck and bravery of Bob.

      The naturalists and Joe listened closely, eager to get an account of everything. They did not seem unduly surprised, for at the start they felt that something was wrong. But that their friends would be in such grave danger was not in the least anticipated.

      “It’s lucky that you’re