The heat affected Hans much more than it did Frank. The Dutch boy suffered, but he made no complaint.
With the sun well over into the western sky, they pushed onward again. They did not halt as the grateful shadows of night lay on the desert, but followed Pedro on and on.
At last, far across the desert, they saw the twinkling of a light that seemed like a fallen star.
"It's a camp-fire," declared Pedro, in Spanish. "Who can be there?"
"It may be bandits," suggested Frank, somewhat wary.
"No," declared the guide, "bandits do not build fires on the open plains. Bandits it cannot be."
He did not hesitate to lead them straight toward the fire.
Frank whispered to Hans:
"Have your weapons ready. This may be the trap."
As they approached the fire, they were able to make out the figures of two or three horses, but no human being was to be seen, although a coffeepot sat on some coals, fragrant steam rising from the nozzle.