Miles rose at once and followed the chief into the ruined hut.
“Clear de ground,” he said, pointing to the centre of the floor.
Our hero obeyed, and, when the loose rubbish was cleared away, the moonbeams, shining through the ruined roof, fell on a ring bolt. Being ordered to pull it, he raised a cover or trap-door, and discovered beneath what appeared to be a cellar.
“Now,” said Mohammed, “listen: you an’ friends go down—all. I shut door and cover up—rubsh. When we all go ’way, com out and go home. See, yonder is home.”
He pointed to the north-eastward, where a glowing star seemed to hang over the margin of the great level desert.
“You are generous—you are kind!” exclaimed Miles, with a burst of enthusiasm.
“Me grateful,” said Mohammed, extending his hand in European fashion, which Miles grasped warmly. “Go, wake you comerads. Tell what me say, and com quick!”
Miles was much too well-disciplined a soldier to hesitate, though he would have liked much to suggest that some of the troops might, before starting, take a fancy to explore the ruin, and to ask how long they should remain in the cellar before venturing out. Quietly awaking all his comrades, and drawing their surprised heads together, he whispered his tale in their wondering ears. After that they were quite prepared to act, and accompanied him noiselessly into the ruin.
“Is the cellar deep?” asked Miles, as he was about to descend.
“No; not deep.”