As soon as they had collected their belongings and stores, they set
about to leave the fort, passing through the tunnel in single file, the
guide leading the way and Harry Urquhart bringing up the rear.
By the time they entered the forest the afternoon was well advanced, the
sun sinking in the heavens. They hoped to reach the British camp that
night, but there was no question that darkness would overtake them long
before they could do so.
There was little or nothing to fear. The soldiers had driven the
Germans from the district. To all intents and purposes the German
Cameroons was conquered, and the remnants of the enemy were returning in
hot haste towards the Spanish territory to the east.
When Harry Urquhart and his three companions came forth from the
entrance to the tunnel they found a heap of hot, charred wood upon the
ground. There was no doubt that recently a fire had been burning, and
that the picket that guarded the tunnel had retreated only at the
eleventh hour.
During the earlier part of the night they traversed the valley, marching
in a bee-line towards the bivouac fires of the British camp. They moved
forward in the following order—Fernando went first, some distance
behind him came Jim Braid and Peter Klein, and a greater distance in the
rear was Harry Urquhart.
Harry had been walking for some time with his eyes fixed upon the
ground. He was wondering what the end of all this strange business was
to be.
He knew that von Hardenberg had stolen the Sunstone, that he carried it
upon his person. It was Harry’s ambition, the very lodestone of his
life, to recover the Sunstone for his uncle. It was von Hardenberg’s
object to reach the Caves of Zoroaster, and possess himself of the
treasure. This was the man’s only aim, for which he had proved that he
was prepared to sacrifice his country and his honour.
As he walked, Harry was thinking of these things, when, on a sudden,
there came a flash of fire, not ten paces to the right. He pulled up
with a jerk, and heard a bullet sing past his head like some evil spirit
in the darkness. Then there came a stinging sensation in the lobe of an
ear, and a moment later he felt the warm blood flowing down his neck.
He saw a figure flying in the night, and with a loud cry took up the
pursuit. A few seconds later he had flung himself upon a man who
struggled in his grasp. On the instant each seized the other by the
throat, and in the moonlight Harry recognized that he had come to
death-grips with his cousin, Captain von Hardenberg himself.
No sooner was he aware who his opponent was than he saw at once that
here was a chance to capture the Sunstone, and for that end he struggled
with the desperation that means more than strength.
Placing one leg behind his adversary, and pressing with all his force
upon his chest, he endeavoured to throw von Hardenberg backward. And
even as he wrestled he felt the Sunstone, sewn in the lining of the
Prussian’s coat.
Gradually von Hardenberg was forced backward, and then at last he fell,
coming heavily to the ground. In his fall he struck his head against a
rock, and after that he lay quite motionless and silent.
Harry could hear the footsteps of approaching men. On one hand Jim
Braid and Fernando hastened to the boy’s assistance; on the other, the
Black Dog came forward with rapidity.
As quick as thought Harry pulled out his pocketknife. He had but to rip
open von Hardenberg’s coat and the Sunstone was his, their journey was
at an end.
A sharp cut with the knife, a hand that trembled with excitement thrust
through the opening, and Harry’s fingers closed upon the precious relic
he had come so many miles to gain.
And, at that moment, a violent blow descended upon his head and
stretched him senseless on the ground. The Arab sheikh had come to the
assistance of his employer in the nick of time. His quick eyes had
taken in the situation at a glance. He had seen the Sunstone in the
hands of Harry Urquhart, and, lifting his rifle by the barrel, he had
brought down the butt upon the boy’s head.
For him to snatch up the Sunstone was the work of an instant. And a
moment afterwards the Black Dog was flying in the night, carrying in his
arms the unconscious body of von Hardenberg.