“Of course. It will be safer. But after a time they will follow us.”
“I think I can stop that, effendi,” said their guide smiling; and while the horses were being loaded, and everything was being got ready for a start, Yussuf took out his knife, and selecting from among the bushes a good straight stick, he cut and trimmed it carefully till it was about the length of a gun.
This done, he climbed up the ridge that screened them from the mouth of the gorge, and, selecting a spot from whence a good view of the sloping plain beyond could be obtained, he walked up and down for a few minutes.
After this he beckoned to the professor and the others to join him; and as soon as they were there he drew their attention to a clump of bushes, as they seemed, but which must have been trees, a couple of miles away, though in that wondrously clear mountain air the distance did not seem to be a quarter.
Mr Burne was nearest to the guide, in his straw hat, which he had retained in safety so far through having it secured by a lanyard, but it was growing very shabby, and was much out of shape from its soaking in the sea.
The professor noticed that Yussuf—who was conspicuous in his red fez skull-cap, about which was rolled a good deal of muslin in the form of a turban or puggree—kept walking up and down on the edge of the ridge, and pointing out to Mr Burne the beauty of the prospect, with the distant ranges of snow-topped mountains, and the old lawyer kept on nodding his satisfaction.
“Yes. Very fine—very fine,” he said; “but I want my breakfast.”
“There!” exclaimed Mr Preston suddenly. “I saw it yonder.”
“The flash of light, effendi?” said Yussuf quietly.
“Yes. And there again.”