“They’re coming!” he thought, getting out his revolver. “But they won’t get me if I can help it!”
But he was in a very secure hideout, and it was unlikely that the Arabs would locate it. Still he realized that they probably knew this region better than did he.
As Bob waited breathlessly, his mind was in a whirl. Who were these Arabs? What did they want? Why had they descended upon the little exploring party so mysteriously? Bob did not know what to make of the situation, but he knew that danger was at hand. What further added to his perplexity was the fact that Arabs did not normally inhabit the Sahara so far south as this.
Suddenly he started, as a thought struck him. Was it—the two thieves who stole Fekmah’s map? Entirely possible, of course.
Then a strange thing happened. As though informed by some unseen power, Bob grasped the whole situation. He saw Dr. Kirshner and Joe in the clutches of the two thieves, being held as prisoners. He visioned his father, Mr. Lewis, and Tishmak riding away under the guard of the Arabs.
“Those thieves did it, then, to keep us away from the hidden treasure,” thought the youth, and he could not have had a more accurate realization.
For some time he listened closely for any sound from the two Arabs who had pursued him. He thought once he heard the footsteps of camels, but was not sure.
What was he to do next? He was now doubly glad that good fortune had enabled him to escape from the would-be captors. If the Arabs had been nomad plunderers, he would probably not have suffered much by remaining with his father and the others. But as it was, there was a possibility of bringing rescue to his friends.
“How am I to do it?” the youth mused, trying to remain calm.