Suddenly M. Desrioux, who had been lying at full length with his ear close to the ground, directing the operation, got up hurriedly, and addressing M. de Pommerelle, who was close to him, said—
"There is a battle going on in the plain, on the other side of this rock!"
"Nothing very wonderful in that," replied the Count. "Did we not come to the conclusion yesterday, through the medium of our telescopes, that an army was advancing towards the mountain? And did not you yourself say that battles are of frequent occurrence in this part of Africa?"
"Yes, undoubtedly," said M. Desrioux, who appeared very much agitated. "But, if I am right, this is no question of an ordinary fight between two hostile tribes; a European caravan must at this very moment be engaged in a struggle with the natives of the country."
"What makes you think so?"
"Lie down on the ground, put your ear to this chink, and listen."
The Count did so, and, after listening for a moment, got up again.
"I have certainly heard shots being fired," said he, "but there is nothing to show me that they were fired by Europeans. The Arab caravans and the slave-traders have firearms, just the same as ours."
"I tell you," exclaimed M. Desrioux, more and more excited, "that there are Europeans there, and that very possibly they are the friends we seek."
"What? Do you mean—"