against him.
I was awakened from a semi-slumbrous state of coma by an exclamation from Buddy, to realise that it was day again, the camels were standing still, and their riders gazing at what Buddy was indicating with outstretched arm.
Over the level stretch of unblown sand which we were crossing, ran a broad and recent trail of camel footprints.
This trail crossed ours, though not at right angles. If we were going south-west I should think the riders were going south--or north.
Hank and Buddy brought the camels to their knees, with the gentle insistent "Oosha, baba, oosha; adar-ya-yan!" which is about the only order that a camel obeys without cavil or protest.
Following the footmarks and regarding them carefully, they decided that there were about twenty camels in the party, that they were going south, and that they had passed quite recently.
"What we bin lookin' for!" observed Hank with grim satisfaction, as he swung himself back into the saddle. "The nearer we kin git to them Injuns, the quicker--but we don' wanta tread on 'em. Keep yer eyes skinned, boys." And the others having remounted, on we went.
I should think we followed this trail for three or four hours, without seeing anything but the eternal desert of sand and rock.
For some time I had been wondering how much longer we were to go on without resting the camels, when a grunt of satisfaction from Hank renewed my waning interest in life. He brought the camel to a halt and pointed, as Buddy ranged up beside us.
We had come to the bank of a very wide and rather shallow dry river-bed, whose shelving sides led down to gravel and stones which at one time must have been subject to the action of running water. The place looked as though a river had flowed along it ten thousand years ago.
But what Hank was pointing to was the spot to which the footprints led.
Beneath a huge high rock, that rose from the middle of the river-bed, was a dark inviting shadow around which were dry-looking tufts of coarse grass, stunted dwarf acacias, and low thorn-bushes.
The camels were perceptibly eager to get to this spot.
"Water," said Hank. "May have to dig."
But there was no need to dig. Beneath and around the rock was a pool, fed presumably from a subterranean source. It wasn't the sparkling water of an English spring, bubbling up among green hills, by any means. The green was rather in the water, but we were not fastidious, and certainly the camels were not. On the contrary, we were delighted and deeply thankful.
Here were shade, water, and camel-food, giving us a new lease of life, and encouragement on our way. It was evident that a party of travellers had recently halted here.
"Good old Touaregs," said Digby, as we dismounted in the glorious shade. "Obliging lads. We'll follow them up just as long as they are going our way home."
"We gotta do more'n foller 'em up," said Hank. "We gotta catch 'em up. They gotta lend us some correc' desert-wear striped gents' suitings. Likewise grub-stake us some."
"Shore," agreed Buddy. "An' we ain't no hoss-thieves neither, but I allow they gotta lend us a couple o' good camels too."
From the first, the Americans had been anxious to secure Arab dress, both on account of possible pursuit from Zinderneuf, and as being less conspicuous and less likely to bring every wandering Arab band down upon us, directly they caught sight of us and recognised us for hated Roumis.
They were doubly anxious to procure the disguise on learning that, in the south, towards Nigeria, there were numerous forts and outposts of the French Niger Territory, garrisoned by Senegalese, and that between these posts, numerous patrols would carefully watch the caravan-routes, and visit such Arab towns and settlements as existed.
It would certainly be better to encounter a patrol in the rôle of Arabs than in that of runaway soldiers from the Foreign Legion.
Accordingly Hank decreed that we must push on, only enough time being spent here for the camels to eat and drink their fill. He was of opinion that the party we were following was an offshoot of the big band that had attacked Zinderneuf and was on its way to "gather in" some village which they visited periodically.
Here they would appropriate its harvest of dates or grain, such camels as might be worthy, those of its sons and daughters who might be suitable for slaves, and any goats, clothing, money, and useful odds-and-ends that they might fancy.
These Touareg bands make an annual tour and visit the villages of an enormous area, in the spirit of somewhat arbitrary and undiscriminating tax-collectors. What they want, by way of tax, is everything the villagers possess that is portable, including their young men and maidens.
If the villagers are reasonable and relinquish everything with a good grace, there need not be any bloodshed--or very little, just in the way of fun and sportive merriment.
The Touaregs do not wish to destroy the village and slaughter the inhabitants, because they prefer to find a peaceful and prosperous community here, again, next year.
All they wish to do, is to clean them out absolutely and leave them alone to amass some more. But if the villagers choose to be uppish and truculent, giving their visitors trouble--they must take the consequences--which are fire and sword and torture.
Or, if the band is off its regular beat and not likely to come that way again, it combines sport with business, and leaves no living thing behind it, nor any roofed dwelling in what was a village--scarcely one stone upon another of what was a little town.
After about three hours' rest, we pushed on again, and rode for the remainder of the day and right through the night. The fact that we did not come up with our quarry seemed to confirm the theory that they were a war-party on raiding business. Peaceful caravans and travellers would never go at such a pace, and we should have overtaken such a party easily. . . .
On this side of the river, or rather river-bed, the scenery began to change. The earth grew greyer in colour, cactus and acacia began to appear, and there were numerous great rock kopjes. The change was from utterly lifeless sand-desert to rock-desert, having a sparse vegetation.
Suddenly we heard distant rifle-fire to our front--a few scattered shots. Simultaneously, Hank and Buddy brought the camels to their knees among the rocks, and we dismounted, unslinging our rifles as we did so.
"Mustn't get the shammos shot up," said Hank to me. "You hold 'em, Bo, while we rubber around some," and they skirmished forward.
Nothing further being heard and nothing seen, they returned, and we rode on again.
Rounding a great rock, a mile or two further on, a rock that reminded one of a Dartmoor tor, we saw an ugly sight.
A woman had been tied to an acacia tree and horribly mutilated. I need say no more about the sight and its effect upon us, although I might say a good deal.
It was evident that she had been herding a flock of goats. . . .
"Village near," said Hank, and he and Buddy again simultaneously wheeled the camels round, and we retired behind the tor and dismounted.
"We'll corral the hosses here, and scout some," said Hank. "It'll be worth dollars to see these darned coyotes before they see us."
This
