Here and there, back and forth, the two ran in the star-lit
darkness. The five Christians were widely scattered now. Shouts and
cries came faintly from a distance. Timokles rushed toward the rocky
plateau.

"Stop, Christian, stop!" cried his enemy, leaping forward with
outstretched hand.

But Timokles fled, stumbling over stones. On came his enemy's swift
leap behind. A piercing cry, as of some one in agony, rang from the
desert's distance. Timokles sped faster.

"Stop!" commanded the voice of the runner behind. "Stop!"

A swift prayer burst from Timokles' lips. He fled on, his pursuer so
near sometimes that Timokles' heart failed him.

"Stop!" screamed his foe. "Stop!"

The fierce command pulsed through Timokles' brain. The man behind
suddenly slipped, stumbling over the stones. He fell heavily, and in
that instant's time, Timokles darted forward behind one of the
rocks, and, creeping underneath it, lay breathless in the darkness.

The man struggled to his feet. Up past the other side of the rock
rushed the pursuer. Timokles, quaking, expected every instant to be
discovered.

"Where art thou?" savagely called the man. "Where?"