They had not seen the gunboat. It looked as if Revillon imagined Mossamedes had got away in the dark and was searching the coast for her. He would, no doubt, come back, but since the incriminating cargo was landed this was not important. Perhaps Revillon had come back. The sea was hidden by the hot, stony banks, and Kit was tired and languid; to climb to the parched table land was too much effort. He began to think about the rifles. So far, the tribesmen had brought the sheep and camels they had agreed to deliver; now it looked as if they thought they had been cheated. This was strange, but Kit remembered that none of his friends trusted Wolf. He must see the chief and if possible satisfy the fellow. All the same, he would not wait much longer. Don Erminio would get disturbed, and the wind was rising. If nobody arrived when his cigarette was smoked, he would start.
"They are sulky fellows," he said, indicating the Berbers.
"The Moors are very bad people," Miguel agreed. "When a baccalao schooner is wrecked on the coast one does not see the crew again. It is possible all are not drowned, but they vanish."
Kit looked at the Berbers and thought their quietness sinister. Their dark faces were inscrutable, and they did not move. One could hardly distinguish them from the stones.
"This time they bring no sheep or camels," Miguel resumed meaningly.
"It is strange," said Kit. "We have brought them rifles, but perhaps they have already paid for the lot."
"Some day they will get the rifles without payment," remarked Juan, the mate. "So long as they expect another lot, they are honest, but when they get all they want they will cut your throat. They will not cut mine; I have had enough. Señor Wolf is clever, but the game is dangerous. If he cheats, you will pay."
Kit looked at Simon, who knitted his brows. "I do not altogether understand, but they are angry. Something is not as they had thought."
The haze about the sun was thicker. Puffs of fiery wind blew down the wady, a whirling pillar of dust broke and fell near the group, and the distant rumble of the surf got loud. It was very hot and the men were languid, but a sailor pulled a knife with an ornamented handle from his sleeve and began to sharpen it on his belt. Kit's cigarette had burned to a stump, and he looked at his watch. Juan got up.
"Vamos! We start now," he said. "Señor Wolf knows much; he stops at Las Palmas and if his customers carry us off, it is our affair."