Von Kerber
fired at him, and the unhappy tribesman tumbled from his perch like a
dummy figure. Snatching at the camel's head-rope, the Austrian lifted,
almost threw Mrs. Haxton up to the saddle. Owing to its height from the
ground, it was impossible to place her there securely, but she helped
him bravely, scrambled somehow to the awkward seat, and stooped to drag
him up behind. She had succeeded, by main force. The excited beast was
plunging forward again to get away from the affrighting turmoil close
to its heels, when a heavy thud shook the huge frame, the camel fell to
its knees, lurched over on its side, and threw both riders heavily.
Von Kerber alone rose. He was dazed for an instant, but he seemed to
have a dim consciousness of the quarter from which mortal peril
threatened, for he turned and faced Alfieri, who had reined in the
Somali pony he rode and was taking deliberate aim at his enemy. The
Italian carried a repeating, rifle. It was he who had brought down the
camel with a well-judged shot through the lungs, and, with the same
venomous accuracy, he now sent a bullet through von Kerber's breast.
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