"Not for ten camels," was his response, "would I do what you ask me. If they see me, my friends will accuse me at once of having disclosed to you their place of retreat, and they will revenge themselves by killing me. I have already told you that I have fulfilled my compact— count no more on me."
"To horse, then!" cried M. Périères. "We can on our way determine what to do."
The whole body started off at once in the direction of the camp, where some movement was now visible. Several men appeared at the doors of the tents, and some women were seen hastening towards the patch of grass where the animals were feeding.
When about a hundred yards from the nearest tent, the two interpreters, at an order from M. Delange, fired three shots in the air and went on in front, as their flowing bûrnus would cause less alarm to the Bedouins than the costumes of the Europeans—the tribe might even take them for friends. At the same time, at the parting suggestion of Araou-Zamil, one of the three sailors left his companions, rode rapidly round the encampment, and posted himself at the entrance of the narrow defile leading to the mountains. The Bedouin, who thus gave one more proof of his good faith, had explained to the interpreters that if M. de Morin and Joseph were still prisoners and alive, their captors might try to escape with them to the mountains on the first symptom of an attack. The horseman so detached and placed on guard was ordered to appeal for assistance by firing off his gun, in case any of the Bedouins should attempt to force a passage into the defile.
A score of the Nomads and twice as many women and children had surrounded the interpreters by the time that the rest of the band joined them.
"Where is your chief?" asked M. Périères, in a peremptory tone, making his horse prance so as to prevent the people from crowding in upon him.
A man of about thirty stepped forward, spare and undersized, with thin lips, piercing eyes, a short and spare beard, and a very swarthy complexion. Everything about him bespoke a dogged determination and unflinching audacity, coupled with cunning and duplicity.
"What do you want?" said he. "And, first of all, do you come as a friend or an enemy?"
"As you please," said M. Périères. "Take your choice."
This reply, literally translated, and the haughty look of M. Périères produced a certain impression upon the chief and the men of his following. To dare to speak thus proudly, and to hesitate to accept the friendship apparently offered to them, the Europeans must be conscious of their superiority. Several of the Bedouins scanned the horizon to see if a second troop was following the first.