They were handsome men, those Eggali, the largest Tuareg whom I ever have seen. With unexpected swiftness they drew aside from the well, leaving it to us. Eg-Anteouen spoke a few words to them. They looked at Morhange and me with a curiosity bordering on fear, but at any rate, with respect.
I drew several little presents from my saddlebags and
was astonished at the reserve of the chief, who refused them. He seemed afraid even of my glance.
When they had gone, I expressed my astonishment at this shyness for which my previous experiences with the tribes of the Sahara had not prepared me.
"They spoke with respect, even with fear," I said to Eg-Anteouen. "And yet the tribe of the Eggali is noble. And that of the Kel-Tahats, to which you tell me you belong, is a slave tribe."
A smile lighted the dark eyes of Eg-Anteouen.
"It is true," he said.
"Well then?"
"I told them that we three, the Captain, you and I, were bound for the Mountain of the Evil Spirits."
With a gesture, he indicated the black mountain.