Several hours later I took the knife with which we had skinned the desert gazelle and, in the sand at the foot of the rock where Tanit-Zerga had given up her spirit, I made a little hollow where she was to rest.
When everything was ready, I wanted to look once more at that dear little face. Courage failed me for a moment.... Then I quickly drew the haik over the brown face and laid the body of the child in the hollow.
I had reckoned without Galé.
The eyes of the mongoose had not left me during the whole time that I was about my sad duty. When she heard the first handfuls of sand fall on the haik, she gave a sharp cry. I looked at her and saw her ready to spring, her eyes daring fire.
"Galé!" I implored; and I tried to stroke her.
She bit my hand and then leapt into the grave and began to dig, throwing the sand furiously aside.
I tried three times to chase her away. I felt that I should never finish my task and that, even if I did, Galé would stay there and disinter the body.
My carbine lay at my feet. A shot drew echoes from the immense empty desert. A moment later, Galé also slept her last sleep, curled up, as I so often had seen her, against the neck of her mistress.
When the surface showed nothing more than a little mound of trampled sand, I rose staggering and started off aimlessly into the desert, toward the south.