The Arabs had been conversing together, evidently trying to decide how to attack us. They knew if they came within range of our rifles some of them would be shot down, and since they now had us safely snared they might take time to figure out the problem.
Had there been any hope of our overtaking our friends I should have advised keeping the Arabs at bay as long as possible. But as far as the eye could reach, in every direction, the desert was deserted save by the two groups at Tel-Ambra. What, I questioned, anxiously, could have induced my uncle and Ned Britton to desert us? Such an act was wholly unlike them, and there must indeed have been a powerful reason behind it. At present it was all a profound mystery to us, and we had no time to make an attempt to unravel the web.
Thinking Joe’s counsel good, in the circumstances, we started our camels and advanced leisurely toward the Arabs. They were startled at first, expecting a fight; then, as they saw our rifles slung over our shoulders, they became puzzled by our audacity and amazed at our boldness. But they stood in a motionless group awaiting our approach, and as we drew near to them I, being slightly in advance of the other two, said in a voice which I strove to render calm:
“Good day, gentlemen. Can you tell us the way to the village of Laketa? I’m afraid we’ve missed the trail.”
The Arabs looked at us stupidly a moment, and then Abdul Hashim spurred his donkey—a strong, thin limbed beast—toward me and touched his turban. His gesture indicated respect, but his steady eyes were as unfathomable as a pool at midnight.
“The blessing of Allah be thine, Effendi,” said he. “What is your errand at Laketa?”
“To rejoin the rest of our party,” I answered confidently.
“Ah, yes; your party from the ship, with the red-bearded jackal Van Dorn at their head,” he said, with a flash of resentment as he mentioned the Professor.
“You are wrong in one thing,” said I, calmly. “Naboth Perkins, my uncle, heads the party.”
“Why try to deceive us, Effendi?” asked Abdul Hashim, in a sterner tone. “You take me for a fool, it seems; and a fool I am not. You would not be here—you could not be here—unless led by the red-beard, who is a dog and a traitor to his masters.”