“Why?”
“It is not safe at night in the desert, and besides—”
His horse plunged and nearly rocketed against hers. She pulled in. His company took away her desire to keep on.
“Besides?”
Leaning over his saddle peak he said, mysteriously:
“Besides, Madame, someone has been following us all the way from Beni-Mora.”
“Who?”
“A horseman. I have heard the beat of the hoofs on the hard road. Once I stopped and turned, but I could see nothing, and then I could hear nothing. He, too, had stopped. But when I rode on again soon I heard him once more. Someone found out we were going and has come after us.”
She looked back into the violet night without speaking. She heard no sound of a horse, saw nothing but the dim track and the faint, shadowy blackness where the palms began. Then she put her hand into the pocket of her saddle and silently held up a tiny revolver.
“I know, but there might be more than one. I am not afraid, but if anything happens to Madame no one will ever take me as a guide any more.”