“I’m afraid you’re a hopeless case, Teddy,” he said. “But now I guess we’d better turn in. We want to get an early start to-morrow before the sun becomes too hot.”
His suggestion was followed and all except Don were soon sound asleep.
But the boy tossed about restlessly on his blanket. It was not the heat that prevented him from sleeping, for he had become inured to that in the Sahara.
It was the tormenting uncertainty as to his father’s fate. He had felt hopeful of finding him in the Valley of the Kings. With each new gang of workmen discovered, his heart had thrilled with the thought that perhaps these were the ones his father had employed, and every time his hopes had been dashed to the ground. Would he ever find him?
A sound came to him from without. He propped himself up on his elbow and listened. Again he heard it, faint but unmistakable. It seemed to come from the direction of the camels.
Silently he crept out from the shelter of the tent and looked toward the tethered camels.
As his eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness, he could make out the gaunt figures of the beasts. Then gradually he saw something else—the figure of a man moving about stealthily.
With a shout Don rushed toward him.
CHAPTER XIII
A Deadly Menace
The figure seemed to melt away on the further side of the camels, which had been roused by Don’s shout and stood upright swaying their shaggy heads. They formed a screen that served perfectly the purpose of the marauder, and by the time Don had circled about the animals the man was not to be seen.