“We’ll have to keep our ears and eyes wide open,” Mr. Lewis reminded them. “If Joe and Dr. Kirshner are anywhere around here, it might be possible to hear them.”
“Isn’t likely that they fell into the hands of Tuareg raiders, is it?” asked Mr. Holton.
“Tishmak said not,” Joe’s father returned. “He thinks that the Tuaregs around here are friendly and peaceful.”
A little farther on they passed several large slabs of rock that were covered with ancient inscriptions and drawings. Dr. Kirshner would surely throw a fit of delight if he could see them. But, thought Bob, perhaps he had already come to them and was searching for more, quite forgetful of the necessity to get back to camp. But no, this could not be, for Joe would realize that necessity if the scientist did not.
At noon they stopped for lunch under a large crag that resembled an inverted hook. There was plenty of water in their containers, giving each the opportunity to satisfy his thirst.
There was not much conversation during that rest, for they were all busy with their thoughts. And those thoughts were anything but cheerful. But they refused to give up hope so soon, for another half-hour might see the two lost ones back with their friends.
Scarcely ten minutes were spent in the shade of the rock. Even then Mr. Lewis felt that that time had been wasted.
“Something might have happened to them during that time,” he said, greatly worried.
Mr. Holton laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Snap out of it, Ben, old man,” he begged. “I’m willing to bet that they are safe and well. And I firmly believe we will find them before another day will pass.”