"They are afraid. All the Tuareg of Ahaggar are afraid of the Mountain of the Evil Spirits. You saw how they were up and off at the very mention of its name."
"It is to the Mountain of the Evil Spirits that you are taking us?" queried Morhange.
"Yes," replied the Targa, "that is where the inscriptions are that I told you about."
"You did not mention that detail to us."
"Why should I? The Tuareg are afraid of the ilhinen, spirits with horns and tails, covered with hair, who make the cattle sicken and die and cast spells over men. But I know well that the Christians are not afraid and even laugh at the fears of the Tuareg."
"And you?" I asked. "You are a Targa and you are not afraid of the ilhinen?"
Eg-Anteouen showed a little red leather bag hung about his neck on a chain of white seeds.
"I have my amulet," he replied gravely, "blessed by the venerable Sidi-Moussa himself. And then I am with you. You saved my life. You have desired to see the inscriptions. The will of Allah be done!"
As he finished speaking, he squatted on his heels, drew out his long reed pipe and began to smoke gravely.
"All this is beginning to seem very strange," said Morhange, coming over to me.