Again the caravan started on the path. A mile farther along another little red patch caught his eye, half a mile beyond, another.
Yet none of these were where he had placed them, and they all bore evidence of rude handling, which puzzled the lay brother sorely. Sometimes the little rags would be missing altogether, but a search party would come upon one some distance off the track, and the march would go on.
Near sunset Elebi halted suddenly and pondered. Before him ran his long shadow; the sun was behind him when it ought to have been in front.
"We are going in the wrong direction," he said, and the men dropped their loads and stared at him.
"Beyond any doubt," said Elebi after a pause, "this is the work of devils—let us pray."
He prayed aloud earnestly for twenty minutes, and darkness had fallen before he had finished.
They camped that night on the spot where the last red guide was, and in the morning they returned the way they had come. There was plenty of provision, but water was hard to come by, and therein lay the danger. Less than a mile they had gone before the red rags had vanished completely, and they wandered helplessly in a circle.
"This is evidently a matter not for prayer, but for sacrifice," concluded Elebi, so they slew one of the guides.
Three nights later, O'Sako, the friend of Elebi, crawled stealthily to the place where Elebi was sleeping, and settled the dispute which had arisen during the day as to who was in command of the expedition.