Five minutes later they stood in the bushes above the water. The Indians Schoverling posted at intervals, the Masai being hidden farther on. Across the way, through the burned opening in the reeds, they could see the camels drawing up on the eminence a hundred yards back from the lake, and through their glasses the boys distinctly made out the figure of Selim ben Amoud, in white burnous.
The Arabs bunched together for a few moments, examining the island through their glasses. The wagon and zareba were in plain sight, but they seemed to be puzzled by the absence of men or cattle. All were armed with rifles, and two or three began picketing out the camels, others taking off the camel-bags and proceeding to make camp. A moment later the tall form of Selim ben Amoud advanced alone to the edge of the water. As he did so, Schoverling rose to his feet and greeted him with a warning shout in Arabic.
"Naharak said, Selim!"
Selim paused, evidently in astonishment, stared, and half-raised his rifle. Then he dropped it again, and Charlie could distinctly see his white teeth flashing in the sun.
"Naharak said, effendi! So it is my friend Mr. Schoverling, eh? What a delightful surprise to meet you here!"
"I guess it's a surprise all right, Selim," responded the explorer. "But the delight is all on your side. Are you out trading?"
"If you would come across and visit us," returned the Arab evasively, "we would be very, very pleased to receive you."
"Don't doubt it a bit," and Schoverling grinned. "Say, come on over and have tea, Selim. Come alone, though. You can trust me but I don't trust you worth a whoop."
For answer the Arab waved his hand and turned back to his camels. The boys gazed after him in curiosity, and Charlie turned to the explorer.
"Think he'll come, Gen'ral?"