Suddenly he gave vent to a shrill cry. Instantly the animals that Osborne and Webb were bestriding came to a dead standstill; then, keeping their forefeet planted firmly in the ground, they lashed out furiously with their hind legs.
In vain Webb attempted to keep his saddle. Describing an inelegant curve he alighted on his head in the sand. Fortunately the softness of the ground deadened the impact; but, feeling considerably shaken, he regained his feet to find Osborne sitting regarding him ruefully. As for the donkeys, they were skeltering off more quickly than they had done before in the course of that afternoon, while the 'Gippy, still astride his mount, jeered at his employers until he was out of ear-shot.
"The fellow's got his own back," admitted Osborne, laughing at his own discomfiture. "And we paid him beforehand, worse luck! No matter! we'll carry on now we're about it, and inspect this ruined show. If we start at four o'clock we ought to be back before sunset, and it won't be so oppressively hot to pad the hoof."
"We're taking a long time to cover this half-mile," remarked Webb, when after a steady tramp the ruins seemed no nearer. "Suppose it isn't a mirage, what?"
"Hope not," replied Osborne. Then he had to admit that the real distance had been diminished by the vagaries of the atmosphere. Although the tomb, or whatever it might be, was a real object, it had seemed to be less than three-quarters of a mile away when Osborne first noticed it. Actually it was four times that distance.
At last they approached the elusive building. It consisted of a rectangular central edifice with a few smaller buildings attached. The roof was originally a dome, but the greater portion had fallen in. Fronting the main portion was a row of weather-worn pillars of red sandstone, ground smooth by the action of the sand-storms of centuries. In places the portico still remained, but was evidently in a very insecure state.
"Hallo!" exclaimed Webb, who with true scouting instinct had been examining the ground. "Look here; someone has been here recently. We're just converging upon the track of a couple of men and a led camel."
"Yes," agreed Osborne, "and Europeans, too; or at any rate not barefooted felaheen or sandalled Arabs. Well, I suppose they have a perfect right to come here, as much as we have—perhaps more if they have fixed up their abode in this desirable suburban residence."
"There's the camel," said the Sub, indicating the humped animal which, hobbled in characteristic Arab fashion, was standing in the shade of a partly shattered wall. "No signs of the owners. We'll have to be careful, old man. We don't want to intrude upon these fellows if they are engaged in their devotions. If they are Mohammedans they are bound to be pretty sensitive as far as the presence of unbelievers is concerned."
For the last hundred yards the two chums maintained silence. Their footfalls made no sound on the soft sand. At the lofty entrance they paused. The dense shadows, in contrast to the powerful slanting rays of the sun, made it impossible to see what was within the place until their eyes grew accustomed to the violent transition from the glare to a deep gloom.