"We will call for him," said Mr. Hume. "If we miss Muata, the old chap could act as guide."
So they put in where the tall palm grew, and while Venning guarded the boat, the other two went up the path to find the village. They found it in ruins, and on a post was the head of the old Arab with a lot of Arab writing.
Compton read it out. "Hassan has been. Those who are silent when they could talk remain silent for ever."
"So," muttered Mr. Hume, staring around under frowning brows,
"Hassan has been."
"Poor old harmless chap," said Compton; "and he knew my father. I should like," he added sternly, "to meet that Hassan, Mr. Hume." "So should I, my boy."
"He certainly tried to get some news of us from the old Arab, and failing, lolled him."
"Ay, ay. That's the whole story, lad." They took the head of the old man, who, they believed, had been faithful to them at the cost of his life, and gave it reverent burial. Then they returned to the boat, and pushed off.
"Not there?" asked Venning.
"Ay, he was there, but Hassan has been before us, and the old man was dead."
"He must hate us very much to pursue us so relentlessly," said
Venning, when he had heard the story.