"Well, my friend?" he asked amiably. "Your researches take us where?"
"Five miles further up the ravine," said Daoud. "It is more than a camp. A village of some importance. Our friend who escaped from the broom thicket has not arrived there. There was no alertness, no watch kept. By the time I left snores were echoing from practically every tent and dwelling of mud. We are not expected."
Perinaud nodded.
"Bien. The moment of attack then—?"
"Is now, Sidi. By the time we reach it the dawn will have come."
Aylmer fumbled for his watch. It was true. The hour was between four and five. The wan light of the false morning was, indeed, faintly paling the east. He looked at Perinaud.
The sergeant nodded.
"Short rest for the horses, Monsieur," he said, "but that we cannot help. The time is short enough, as it is."
He motioned the waiting figures of the Goumiers into activity. The sentries were recalled. A tiny fire was kindled, and coffee made with incredible quickness while the saddles were being flung upon the horses' backs.
Aylmer gulped his portion gratefully, for the dew-brimmed air was chill. But within twenty minutes of Daoud's return, the half score of horsemen were following him in single file along the river bank.