"It strikes me pretty forcibly that you are right after all, Gerald," he exclaimed. "But at the same time I cannot believe it possible, even taking into consideration the dryness of the atmosphere, that armour could withstand the ravages of the weather for seven or eight hundred years."
"There is a dagger," said Hugh, pointing to the hilt of a weapon that hung at the right side of the skeleton, the remaining portion being buried in the sand.
"It certainly looks like a misericord," remarked Reeves, drawing the rusty steel from its mouldy sheath. "See! the man wears a rich leathern baldrick. At one time he carried a sword—here are the fragments of a sheath; and, stranger still, he does not appear to have had firearms!"
"Why is it strange?" asked Hugh.
"Because an emir, even though clad in chain mail, almost invariably carries a pistol and powder-horn with him. This man has none. However, the mystery must remain a mystery, I fear. We can, at any rate, cover the skeleton with sand."
This was accordingly done; but as the Englishmen were about to return to where the camels were left, Reeves stooped and picked up the dagger.
"Every additional weight hampers us," he remarked, "but I think I will take this. It will be a memento, in case we return to civilization in safety."
"I wonder if the man rode a horse or a camel?" asked Hugh. "If so, are there any traces of it?"
"We may as well look around," replied Reeves. "Another thing that puzzles me is, why did the man die in the sand, instead of making his way to the river, which is less than a hundred yards off, and quite visible from here? However, carry on. You, Hugh, go ahead for a hundred paces; Gerald, you go to your left, but no farther than yonder hillock; I'll explore the rocks by the river."
Reeves had barely taken thirty steps when a shout from Gerald arrested his attention. "There's a cross stuck up on a sandhill," announced the lad.