CHAPTER XX.
THE COMING OF THE FRENCH ZOUAVES.
Perhaps Mustapha Cadi, as a true Mohammedan, may have a certain amount of respect for this odd tomb of a _marabout_, but, as the saint's bones have been removed, he has no hesitation about making a fort out of the rocky recess.
When all have entered he closes the opening.

The door is broken, but there are many loose stones around that can be made to serve.
There is no time just now to use them, for the rush of horses' hoofs are heard up the road, as the men of Bab Azoun come racing along, intent upon overhauling the fugitives.
They sweep past the rocky tomb like a young cyclone; it is a spectacle none of those who gaze upon it will ever forget.

The moonlight renders it perfectly plain, and they can even see the savage expression of each Arab face as the riders dash by.
Now they are gone, and Mustapha begins to pile up the rocks against the door.
The others see what he is about, and immediately assist him, so that when a couple of minutes have elapsed they have made use of every available stone, and can regard their work with considerable satisfaction.
The roof of the tomb is the worst part, and, being made of wood, it shows signs of decay.

They locate themselves as best the circumstances will allow and await the sequel.
It is too much to hope that their enemies will long be deceived by the trick that has been played.

When they overtake, or sight, the riderless horses, they must grasp the situation, and whirling about, look for the fugitives upon the back trail.