"Yasma is safe," was Karem's terse reply. "You will see her before long, though just when I cannot say."
And that was the most definite reply I could wrench from him. Neither he nor Julab would discuss the reappearance of their people; they would not say where they had been, nor how far they had gone, nor how they had returned, nor what had happened during their absence. But they insisted on turning the conversation in my direction. They assured me how much relieved they were to find me alive and well; they questioned me eagerly as to how I had passed my time; they commented with zest upon my changed appearance, my ragged clothes and dense beard; and they ended by predicting that better days were in store.
More mystified than ever, I accompanied the two men to their cabins.
"We must make ready to till the fields," they reminded me, as we approached the village, "for when the trees again lose their leaves there will be another harvest." And they showed me where, unknown to me, spades and shovels and plows had been stored in waterproof vaults beneath the cabins; and they surprised me by pointing out the bins of wheat and sacks of nuts and dried fruits, preserved from last year's produce and harbored underground, so that when the people returned to Sobul they might have full rations until the ripening of the new crop.
Before the newcomers had been back an hour, they were both hard at work in the fields. I volunteered my assistance; and was glad to be able to wield a shovel or harrow after my long aimless months. The vigorous activity in the open air helped to calm my mind and to drive away my questionings; yet it could not drive them away wholly, and I do not know whether my thoughts were most on the soil I made ready for seeding or on things far-away and strange. Above all, I kept thinking of Yasma, kept remembering her in hope that alternated with dejection. Could it be true, as Karem had said, that I was to see her soon? Surely, she must know how impatiently I was waiting! She would not be the last of her tribe to reappear!
That night I had but little sleep; excited visions of Yasma permitted me to doze away only by brief dream-broken snatches. But when the gray of dawn began to creep in through the open window, sheer weariness forced an hour's slumber; and I slept beyond my usual time, and awoke to find the room bright with sunlight.
As I opened my eyes, I became conscious of voices without—murmuring voices that filled me with an unreasoning joy. I peered out of the window—no one to be seen! Excitedly I slipped on my coat, and burst out of the door—still no one visible! Then from behind one of the cabins came the roar of half a dozen persons in hearty laughter ... laughter that was the most welcome I had ever heard.
I did not pause to ask myself who the newcomers were; did not stop to wonder whether there were any feminine members of the group. I dashed off crazily, and in an instant found myself confronted by—five or six curiously staring men.
I know that I was indeed a sight; that my eyes bulged; that surprise and disappointment shone in every line of my face. Otherwise, the men would have been quicker to greet me, for instantly we recognized each other. They were youths of the Ibandru tribe, all known to me from last autumn; and they seemed little changed by their long absence, except that, like Julab and Karem, they appeared a trifle thinner.
"Are there any more of you here?" I demanded, after the first words of explanation and welcome. "Are there—are there any—"