"They are leading some prisoner among them," said Dick. "It looks like a girl, but her face is covered with her hair."
"It's a Taharan girl. Cimbula must be trying to buy off the Arabs with the gift of a slave."
"He is wrecking our whole plan of battle."
The boys looked on in suspense as the witch-doctor approached the Arab camp, capering and shaking his rattling gourd. The others who followed were imitating him, for Cimbula had decided that a magic dance of demons would terrify the raiders, and therefore he had dressed up a dozen of Wabiti's men in a garb like his own and painted their bodies with stripes and daubs of white.
Whirling and leaping the demon dancers approached the Arab camp, while one of the natives brandished a flint knife above the head of the bound victim.
"If the Arabs take fright at this hocus-pocus, they are bigger fools than I take them to be," growled Dick.
"More likely they are laughing at the medicine-man," Dan exclaimed. "Look, they are rushing the procession."
With shouts of derision the Arabs leaped to their horses and raced toward the intruders, No shots were fired. The Arabs did not want to kill the demon dancers, but shrieked with laughter as they charged them, bowled over Cimbula and scattered his followers.
"Look," said Dick. "It's not a fight. The Arabs are rounding up those fellows. They came here for slaves, and now they have got some."
"Serves Cimbula right! I hope they keep him at hard labor for life!"
"I'm sorry for the others though.--Listen. There goes the first signal!"
From the south came the call of a desert hyena, a long unearthly sound of laughter.
Amid the hubbub of the Arab camp, the signal was not noticed by the enemy, but Raal was evidently on the alert, for soon a long wolf howl answered from the north.
"Good!" cried Dick Oakwood. "Cimbula's little show did not spoil the big circus, after all. Now Dan, you're going to see a fight."
To the south of the camp a torch flared among the brush. Another was lighted and another. Soon the place where the Gorols had assembled was a confusion of dancing lights, flaring and smoking.
A war cry arose among the flames, a shrill cry of "Tahara, Rax!"
"Give 'em the axe!" chuckled Dan. "Atta-boy, Kulki! Now the fun begins."