There was no conversation between the archæologist and the natives, for each seemed busy with his thoughts. Bob was extremely grave, and he wondered what was taking place in the adjoining room. Perhaps the Arabs wished to sell Fekmah something and did not wish to be thwarted by the whites. Or perhaps they wanted to engage themselves as guides on the coming expedition and knew they would have a better chance with Fekmah than with the Americans. But whatever it was, Bob felt uneasy. If their friend did not return before long he would go after him, the youth thought.
“We’ll wait a few more minutes,” said Dr. Kirshner. “Then——”
“Listen!” commanded Bob. “What was that?”
“I didn’t hear anything. What——”
“There it is again. Sounds like a muffled cry for help. It’s—it’s Fekmah!”
CHAPTER V
A Fight for Freedom
BOB was on his feet in an instant and dashed toward the door to the next room. But two of the Arabs were there first. With a catlike quickness they drew knives and advanced on the Americans. The other two natives came at them from the side.
“What does this mean?” demanded Dr. Kirshner, looking from one to the other, his black eyes snapping with anger.