Foster James H.
Captured by the Arabs

CHAPTER XII
A Grim Discovery

“WHAT is it?” asked Bob, slow to catch sight of the object.

“Gazelles,” returned his father. “A small herd of them.”

In a moment the agile animals came running out in full view of all, their beautiful coats showing clearly in the bright sunlight.

The creatures were about a hundred yards away, not any too near for an accurate shot, but the naturalists were much in desire of several as specimens.

Their long-distance rifles were equipped with telescopes, making it much easier, according to the naturalists, to sight an object at a hundred yards or more. Bob’s gun, however, did not have this convenience.

Mr. Lewis prepared to take aim.

“You take the animal to the extreme right, Howard,” he said to Mr. Holton. “Bob, you pick the one in the middle, and I’ll try to get one at the left. Tom,” he said to Dr. Kirshner, “suppose you count to three. When you say three we’ll all fire together. Let’s go, now.”

“One, two, THREE.”

Bang! Three rifles spoke as one.

Mr. Holton cried out in delight.

“Hurrah!” he said. “Got all of the ones we aimed at. Good work.”

The report of the guns caused great disorder in the herd, the graceful creatures leaping about at a speed that did their thin, muscular legs full justice. Before long they had disappeared behind the sand dunes.

“Now we’ll ride over and see what the ones killed look like,” said Mr. Lewis.

As the dead gazelles were not in a direction that would take the explorers off their steady course, the pack camels were driven along also.

When they reached the spot, Joe cried out in amazement at sight of the gazelles’ sleek skin. It was of a yellowish brown color, and the abdomen was as white as snow. The legs were long and thin, narrowing down to a finely shaped hoof.

“As beautiful an animal as one can find,” declared Mr. Lewis, who with Mr. Holton had been everywhere and knew what he was talking about.

“Two males and a female,” observed Bob’s father, noting the curved horns of the former.

“Look at the eyes,” said Joe. “They’re almost jet black.”

The naturalists began at once the task of removing the skins, for it was best not to leave them on too long under such a sun.

As soon as this was completed they were placed in a solution of alum that had been prepared by Dr. Kirshner under the naturalists’ directions.

“In our opinion, that’s the best preservative there is,” remarked Mr. Holton, “although there are many others in use.”

It required the better part of two hours to complete the task. The sun was just beginning to sink behind the distant mounds when they were ready to continue the journey.

“Be dark before long,” predicted Fekmah. “Then we will have to stop and wait for the moon. If you have not before traveled on desert under moon, you have much to see.”

They plodded continually on, Bob and Joe occasionally taking motion pictures. As the heat gradually became less intense, the youths felt a thrill of exultation run through their veins. Now there was nothing to worry about, no fierce sun to sweat under, no cares or anxieties to occupy their minds. Life – life on the boundless Sahara – seemed great.

“The folks back home are sure missing something,” smiled Bob. “Though I suppose a lot of them wouldn’t care for doings of this kind.”

Slowly the darkness came. At last, when the little caravan was in a notch between two unusually high dunes, Tishmak called a halt and conversed with Fekmah. Then the latter turned to the Americans.

“Tishmak says it is not thing to go on through darkness,” he told them. “Might come on to something bad. We’ll wait here for moon to come out, then go on.”

“Now’s a good chance to get our suppers,” said Dr. Kirshner, commanding his dromedary to lower.

By the aid of flashlights a limited but satisfying meal was prepared on paper, and the adventurers all ate heartily.

“Too bad there’s nothing for the camels,” said Mr. Lewis.

“No need of worrying about them,” returned Fekmah. “They can have no food or drink for good many days. Soon we come to region of thin vegetation. Then they eat.”

After the meal the explorers stretched out on the now cool sand, glad of a chance to rest their tired limbs. The constant jolting of the dromedaries had contributed much toward fatiguing them.

“Now’s the time when a coat comes in handy,” said Bob, reaching into his bag on the camel’s back.

“Wait till dawn, if you want to see real cold weather,” came from Dr. Kirshner. “Isn’t that right, Fekmah?”

The Arab nodded.

“Temperature often gets down to thirty-five degrees,” he said.

Before long the moon came out in full splendor, flooding the vast expanse with enchanting light and creating a scene beautiful beyond description. The sand looked white all about, broken only by an occasional ripple caused by the wind. The brilliant moon was surrounded by a large white circle, which seemed to throw silver darts on the dunes. In the distance were groups of luminous clouds, whose ragged edges were transparent. It was a wonderful sight, and the explorers sat for some time as though transfixed.

“Never saw anything like it in my life!” exclaimed Mr. Holton, his breath almost taken away by the magnificent spectacle.

“Wonder if we’re dreaming?” mused Joe, also fascinated.

Fekmah and Tishmak had been out to witness such a spectacle before, but seemed to think no less of it.

“I guess here’s a case where familiarity doesn’t breed contempt,” laughed Mr. Lewis, his eyes on the Arabs.

Bob got out the movie camera, intent upon taking several scenes that would be “really different.”

“Moonlight always makes a good impression on a motion-picture audience,” remarked Joe. “And away out here on the Sahara – well, it’ll seem wonderful!”

Tishmak made signs that they move on, and the others were glad to do so. Since there was so much light, it would be easy to find their way.

They were now in a region of high sand hills, with still no rocks other than the small bright-colored pebbles that were scattered about. Vegetation began to be more numerous in the form of had, drinn, and other plants, which were occasionally eaten by the dromedaries.

“I wonder if Fekmah is sure he’s headed right?” said Bob, as he and his friend again took their places at the end of the caravan.

“He doesn’t seem to be having any trouble yet,” was the reply. “You remember he made another map from memory after the first one was stolen. Chances are he knows where he’s going.”

“If he doesn’t, we probably won’t find the hidden riches,” was Bob’s return.

They trudged on, up and down the sand hills, until about ten o’clock. Then Tishmak called a halt.

“We camp here for night,” announced Fekmah, after a short conference with the guide. “It not wise to go any farther tonight. We get a sleep; then start on in morning.”

“I was just thinking it’s about time,” laughed Dr. Kirshner.

Tishmak had purposely picked out a deep gulch between the mounds as the stopping place. This would be a fair precaution against the nomad bandits who were reputed to be in this region.

“Takes a guide to know what’s best,” remarked Bob, observing the high walls of sand all about them. “The country in this vicinity is so rough that a caravan wouldn’t come anywhere near it, especially later on, when it will be pitch dark.”

The explorers dismounted and got out the tent. The poles were put up, and in a short time everything was in readiness for the night’s sleep.

“Curl up tightly in your blankets,” advised Mr. Lewis, as he prepared to occupy a corner of the tent. “It will be very cold along toward dawn.”

“And will we sleep!” said Bob, throwing himself down in relaxation.

Bob’s prediction proved right. The boys enjoyed the deep slumber that only an explorer can experience. It was wholly unexpected that they be awakened at dawn by their elders.

“It’s a dirty trick!” grinned Joe, as his father urged him to fully awaken.

“I know,” the naturalist said sympathetically. “But we must be on our way before the sun gets so hot that traveling will be dangerous.”

But once up, it was easy to forget sleepiness and enjoy the early-morning air.

“Talk about cold!” cried Joe, shivering in spite of the fact that he was wrapped in a heavy coat. “I’ll bet the old mercury is down to thirty degrees.”

“Not quite that bad,” laughed Dr. Kirshner, holding up a thermometer. “It’s thirty-eight.”

“Even that is cold for the desert,” said Bob. “I always had the impression that it is hot all the time.”

“There are some places that way,” returned Mr. Lewis. “But certainly not the old Sahara.”

Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton got out the provisions and began preparing the breakfast.

“And while they’re doing that, suppose we go up to the top of this mound,” suggested Bob to his chum. “It’s rather high. Maybe we can get a view of the country ahead of us.”

“Don’t be gone long, boys,” called Dr. Kirshner, as they made their way to the edge of the hill.

The sand under their feet was, in many places, loose and unstable, but they found sufficient hard spots to make safe footholds. It was not a little difficult to estimate where they could safely climb higher. Perspiration was dripping from them when they at last reached the top and turned their gaze toward the horizon.

A cry of astonishment came from Joe at the scene that was spread out before them. The dunes that stretched away in the distance were tinted with many colors, showing strangely in the early-morning light. Some were pink, others blue, still others green, while the ones farther away paled away into nothingness.

“That’s a new one on me,” remarked Bob, highly puzzled. “I never expected anything like this.”

“Nor I. Wonder what causes it?”

“Beyond me.”

They stood for some time gazing at the varicolored mounds. Then Joe turned about.

“Better get back to camp,” he suggested. “Breakfast may be ready.”

They were about to retrace their footsteps when they heard a rustling sound but a few feet away.

“What’s that?” muttered Bob, sensing that danger was at hand.

The youths glanced around – and then shrank back in horror!

CHAPTER XIII
The Hideous Reptile

“A horned viper!” exclaimed Bob fearfully, recognizing the long, sinister body that was coiled almost at their feet.

“And it’s going to strike!” cried Joe. “Get your pistol – quick! We’ll both fire at it. Oh, how I wish we had our rifles!”

The snake was preparing to lunge forward, its terrible head swaying slowly from side to side. Whether or not the fangs contained poison, the boys did not know, but they knew they could not take a chance.

Neither Bob nor Joe was an outstanding shot with a revolver, and they felt rather panic-stricken as they raised the weapons and took aim.

After a few seconds that seemed to the youths like hours, Bob pulled the trigger.

A moment later the cold sweat burst out on his forehead, as he saw that he had missed. Before he could take another aim, the reptile would be upon him, a mass of scaly ferocity.

Bang!

Joe’s pistol spoke out, and the bullet caught the snake in the neck, just as it was about to strike.

Another shot from Joe’s automatic struck in a vital spot. The fiendish head turned violently, then fell to the ground with a thud. The tail twitched about momentarily, and as life passed out, the horrible body lay still.

It was some time before Bob and Joe could regain their natural peace of mind, for the strain had been great. Their hearts were beating rapidly from the unusual mental exertion.

“A narrow escape!” breathed Joe, putting his gun back in its holster.

“Thanks to you, old boy, we came out alive,” praised Bob, giving his friend an affectionate pat on the back. “It was your coolness and determination that sent those bullets in the right place. I was too nervous, I guess.”

“But say,” began Joe, turning aside the commendation of his friend, “our dads might want this fellow as a specimen. Do you suppose they would? Those bullets didn’t shatter it as a rifle cartridge would have.”

The youths were not particularly anxious to handle the long, scaly body, but they felt it their duty to do all they could for their fathers.

“What say we take it to the edge of the hill and roll it down?” suggested Bob. “The way is gradual and there are no protruding crags to tear it.”

“All right. We never can carry it without falling ourselves.”

The reptile was pushed over the side of the dune, and the boys made their way down. They slid more than climbed, but reached the bottom uninjured.

Mr. Lewis came out to meet them, on his face a look of anxiety.

“What kept you so long?” he asked.

“That over there,” replied Joe, pointing to the snake, which lay but a few feet away.

The naturalist ran over to it. Then he straightened up in surprise.

“A horned viper,” he pronounced. “Where’d you find it?”

Bob related the narrow escape at the top of the dune, not forgetting to point out Joe’s part in killing the reptile. When he had finished, Mr. Lewis shook his head gravely.

“Never leave camp without your rifles,” he warned them. “In a strange land anything is likely to happen.”

During breakfast the youths’ experience with the viper was the chief topic for conversation. Tishmak looked at the boys with a new respect as he heard the account of their daring deed.

As soon as the morning meal was over, the tent and provisions were packed back on the dromedaries, and the explorers continued their journey.

“How much ground did we probably cover yesterday?” asked Dr. Kirshner of Fekmah, as they followed a narrow way between the rolling sand dunes.

“At least a hundred miles,” the Arab answered. “Perhaps many more. Dromedaries trot rather rapid.”

“Then, at that rate, it shouldn’t take us so very long to reach the Ahaggaras, should it?” asked Joe, who with Bob had not yet taken his place at the end of the caravan.

“No. But something could keep us back. Maybe storm, or could be bandits. Never know about that.”

As the explorers moved on, they occasionally saw small animals and birds. The naturalists were constantly on the lookout, shooting any creature that came within range of their guns. Among the victims of their marksmanship were desert larks, rats, hares, lizards, and a small animal called the ferrec.

Bob and Joe kept their time occupied in taking motion pictures of the country they were passing through. By the time that their caravan had stopped for the midday meal, the boys had “rolled off” a good many hundred feet of film.

“Here’s hoping our moving pictures here prove to be as successful as those that we took in Brazil,” said Joe, as he took out a bag of rations from a camel’s pack.

“If they do, the Neuman Film Corporation may give us a job on every future expedition we might make with our dads,” came from Bob.

Thus far the day’s traveling had not yet brought them to an oasis. Tishmak informed them that water would probably not be found until late the next night. The containers, however, held a large supply, making it unnecessary for the explorers to worry.

“It’s a good thing the dromedaries don’t need it often,” said Mr. Lewis, as he went about preparing the meal.

“Four or five days is often enough for them,” put in Mr. Holton. “They can go much longer than that, but it isn’t wise to risk it.”

It was about eleven o’clock, the time advisable to begin the usual afternoon rest. Bob and Joe were glad of the chance to escape the heat of the fierce sun. Even in the morning it was too hot for comfort, although nothing compared to the baking atmosphere of the afternoon. The youths were tanned so dark as to resemble Arabs.

“Funny,” smiled Joe. “Back in the United States we fellows wanted to get burned by the sun. Here we try to keep out from under it.”

“All goes to prove that circumstances alter cases,” laughed Dr. Kirshner.

The tent was again pitched, and the meal eaten. This time, however, water was used sparingly. The adventurers did not wish to run the risk of getting dangerously short.

It was thought best to set a guard again while the others slept or idly rested on the cool sand. Mr. Holton took the job, sitting in the shade of the tent facing the resting dromedaries.

“Chances are nothing will turn up, though,” he said, and proved to be right.

Sharply at three o’clock Dr. Kirshner was up stretching himself and suggesting that they continue the journey.

“It isn’t the thing to wait too long,” he reminded his friends, “even if we are drowsy. By night we want to have covered another hundred miles or more. I’m especially anxious to reach the mountainous region and see what I can find in the way of records of ancient peoples who might have lived there before the desert became a desert,” he added, laughing.

The others were more than willing to start on. When sleepiness or drowsiness threatened to overpower them at the wrong time, the thought of the two thieves who had stolen Fekmah’s map spurred them on to action.

“I don’t know that it is necessary to set a guard while we take our afternoon rests,” remarked Fekmah casually, as they packed the tent back in its place for the journey.

The Americans looked at him wonderingly.

“The dromedaries will give us warning,” he explained. “They are much uneasy if stranger come near camp. They jump up and make noise.”

“A bit like watchdogs, are they?” said Mr. Holton. “Well, we’ll give them a tryout the next time.”

They again took up the journey, winding in and out among the rolling sand hills. Occasionally they would come to a dune several hundred feet high. They seemed to be gradually mounting higher, for the camels did not move as rapidly as before.

Vegetation increased still more, giving the dromedaries an opportunity to nibble often on the various plants and shrubs. A few scattered trees began to be seen, their sharp thorns protruding threateningly.

“Camels don’t bother with thorns,” remarked Bob. “They know just where to take a mouthful without cutting their mouths.”

“And they aren’t particular about their diet, either,” Joe added, remembering what Fekmah had told him some time before. “Leather, paper, wood – almost anything will satisfy their appetites.”

At last they came to the region of high sand dunes that were visible the day before. Many of the hills towered five and six hundred feet, and a few were much higher than that. The explorers were lucky in finding a narrow lane that passed between the mounds. How long the good fortune would continue, they did not know.

“Getting to look more like the dunes in Indiana, back in the United States,” remarked Joe. “But of course these stretch a hundred times as far.”

In some places the ground was hard and brittle, while in others it was strewn with loose sand.

At last the lane stopped, and the adventurers found themselves face to face with a high hill.

“Guess we’ll have to climb it,” said Mr. Holton, looking about. “There is no other way out. The sand seems to be hard and safe enough. And it could be a great deal steeper.”

“Let dromedaries go slowly,” cautioned Fekmah. “Do not hurry them.”

They began the dangerous ascent, keeping their eyes glued to the ground. Slowly the camels trudged up, feeling their steps carefully.

They were almost to the top when suddenly the ground gave way from under Joe’s dromedary. The animal fell to its knees, struggled for a moment, and fell backward.

With a wild shout Joe plunged from the animal’s back and went rolling helplessly down the hill!

CHAPTER XIV
Falling Helplessly

DOWN the steep slope Joe went, powerless to catch himself. There were no shrubs or stalks to grip, no hard soil to cling to.

His mind was in a whirl. Where would he land? How far had he yet to go? He comforted himself in the thought that there were no rocks or tree trunks to dash against, but if the soil at the bottom of the hill happened to be hard, his doom might be sealed. Already he could feel the jar and pain of suddenly coming to an abrupt stop on unyielding ground.

Down, down he went, past the pack camels that were still slowly climbing the steep side of the mound, lucky enough to have been missed by the falling camel.

Joe caught a momentary glimpse of his own dromedary, which was also rolling rapidly down.

Suddenly he felt a severe jar and gradually came to a stop in the soft sand at the foot of the dune.

A moment later he glanced up fearfully, as he saw his dromedary coming down at him with lightning rapidity.

He tried to rise and dash to one side, but his feet failed to respond to his efforts. They had been numbed by the jar of striking the ground.

The falling camel was almost upon him now. Something must be done at once!

Summoning all his strength, he threw his body to the right of the oncoming animal. It was an act of desperation, and he felt sure that it would fail. But a moment later there was a rush, the sound of swishing sand, and the animal whisked past, stirring up a dense cloud of fine soil.

Joe gave a sigh of relief and for a brief period sank back down on the sand, as though waiting for his strength to be restored. Then he was up, looking for the fallen camel.

It had come to a stop in a drift of loose sand and appeared to be uninjured. But it was snorting and kicking furiously, its anger visibly heightened to a high degree.

Joe ran over to it and attempted to give aid, but the furious dromedary kicked at him in a rage.

Mr. Lewis and Bob came running down, finding footholds with difficulty.

“Wait!” cautioned the naturalist. “Don’t hurry the camel. Let him take his time. His fit of anger will be over in a few minutes,” and then added: “That was some fall! We were afraid you’d be hurt seriously. No bones broken, are there?”

“I guess not,” Joe replied. “Just shaken up a bit. I’m afraid the dromedary is hurt more than I. Don’t see what could prevent it.”

“You may be right,” his father said solemnly. “We’ll find out in a minute.”

Before long the animal’s anger lessened, and it tried to rise. But its legs refused to move, despite the frantic efforts.

Mr. Lewis’s face took on an expression of anxiety. He bent down and felt of the struggling legs. Then he straightened up and shook his head hopelessly.

“Broken,” he muttered in a tense voice. “Two legs are broken.”

“What!” cried Mr. Holton, who, along with the others, had managed to scramble down the hill.

“Look for yourselves,” Mr. Lewis said gravely. “The camel’s weight was too great to come continually against the rather fragile limbs, and the hind ones snapped in two.”

The explorers’ faces were greatly sobered by the dread discovery. Now there was but one thing to do. The unfortunate beast must be left to die a slow and torturing death. There was no other way out, for the legs could not be set, and the beast could not be taken on.

Mr. Holton unstrapped his rifle from his shoulder.

“I’m going to put an end to it,” he said with a sudden decision. “It seems only humane, for otherwise death will come slowly and horribly.”

He walked over to a small elevation along the side of the dune, while his friends moved away to a safe distance.

After a moment of careful aim, he pulled the trigger.

The high-velocity bullet sped true, penetrating the brain.

There was but one spasmodic movement; then the camel rolled over, dead.

For some time the explorers were silent. It was not pleasant to see the useful dromedary come to such an end. Finally Joe began the ascent of the dune.

“It’ll seem strange without that camel,” he said. “How will I manage to have a mount?”

“You’ll have to take one of the pack animals,” returned Dr. Kirshner. “We’ll divide the supplies among the others and get along some way. If we do the right kind of scheming, I don’t believe the other camels will notice the extra load.”

It was difficult work climbing the treacherous slope of the dune. Many times their feet would scarcely find a foothold when the sand would give way, making it necessary for them to sprawl out or clutch one another in order to prevent rolling down.

At last they reached the top and began dividing the provisions among nine of the ten pack dromedaries. It required over an hour to complete the task, for it was difficult to find places for all their belongings.

“Now you may find it hard to get used to the strange camel,” said Mr. Holton, as Joe straddled the kneeling animal. “He may act up and threaten to throw you, but stick to it. It won’t take long to show him you mean business.”

“He’s been broken in some,” remarked Fekmah. “Though it may been good time since he had rider.”

Much to their surprise the dromedary responded to Joe’s commands at once, resigning himself over to his new master.

“And am I glad!” the youth exclaimed, as the little caravan prepared to resume the journey.

“That’s rather an exceptional piece of luck,” smiled Mr. Holton. “Usually it takes a good while for a camel to get used to its new rider.”

The explorers continued the journey, although they realized that they could cover but a few more miles before dark. Already the sun was beginning to sink behind the distant hills, tinting the dunes many colors.

“Didn’t get as far today as we did yesterday,” observed Bob, as the boys waited for Tishmak to find a suitable stopping place.

The guide found the place he wanted between two large dunes, which were spread out over a large amount of ground.

“Tishmak say we wait here and get supper,” said Fekmah, after a moment of conversation in the native tongue. “Then when moon come out, we go on and try to make up for lost time.”

“That suits me,” agreed Dr. Kirshner. “Almost anything would satisfy my appetite right now.”

The explorers dismounted and prepared the meal, which after the strenuous hours of constant traveling tasted delicious. Then they sat quietly in the semidarkness.

At last the moon came out, and the desert was again seen to take on a new appearance. The sand was even more beautiful than the night before, white as it was from the soft light.

Tishmak motioned for the adventurers to mount their dromedaries and get under way. If they expected to get over much more territory, it would be necessary to hurry.

“Here’s hoping we can come up to our hundred-mile minimum,” said Joe, urging his camel to trot faster.

It was nearly ten o’clock when they finally stopped for the night’s slumber. Fekmah was well satisfied with the distance they had made that day.

“Tomorrow we will come to Tudemait Plateau,” he said, after conversing with Tishmak. “It is a rocky region, with large black boulders.”

“Then we won’t see any more sand dunes?” asked Bob.

“No. The country will be rather level, but we will have to go many kilometers out of way to avoid rocks.”

“That’ll suit me,” put in Joe. “I’m tired of seeing nothing but sand.”

That night they trusted to good fortune and did not set a guard. Tishmak informed them that there was little danger of robbers in that region, and the alertness of the camels would be an added precaution.

“We are nearing the country of the Tuaregs,” explained Fekmah. “These natives are friendly, but drive away nomad robbers. We probably be safe tonight.”

And they were. The next morning they had completely regained their natural liveliness and pep, feeling thoroughly refreshed and ready for anything the day might bring.

Breakfast over, the long journey was resumed.

As Tishmak had predicted, the country gradually began to change. The sand dunes that had recently been high slowly became smaller and lower, and vegetation increased still more. Small rocks were everywhere, their color a dark gray or black. In the distance the sharp crags of the Tudemait Plateau could be seen.

As the explorers neared a low long mound, Tishmak’s dromedary suddenly halted and sniffed nervously. A moment later the animals of the other explorers also came to a stop.

“What’s this!” exclaimed Mr. Lewis, looking about wonderingly.

“Guess they heard something,” said Dr. Kirshner. “What it was, we’ll see in a moment. They have an uncanny power of detecting noises that we men can’t catch.”

Tishmak unstrapped his rifle and motioned for the others to do likewise.

“Wonder if it’s bandits,” muttered Joe, holding his gun in readiness.

The sound of camels’ footsteps now reached the adventurers’ ears. Then from behind a hill appeared a long trading caravan of Arabs, who also had their rifles in readiness.

Tishmak rushed forward, throwing his hands apart in a gesture of friendliness. He was followed by Fekmah and the others.

As soon as the Arabs saw that the whites meant no harm, they stopped and talked freely. Much to Dr. Kirshner’s delight, he could understand the men easily, their language differing greatly from that of Tishmak.

The Americans learned that the caravan was on its way to Wargla, loaded with a large supply of dried dates, grapes, and many other products of the desert oases. It was made up of over seven hundred camels, which were in a line several miles long.

“Look at the leader,” said Joe to his chum, referring to the head camel. “It’s decorated with about as many colors as there are.”

“Want to make a good showing,” smiled Bob. “From what I’ve heard, a caravan is judged by how well the first camel is engulfed by colors.”

Much as the explorers would have liked to talk with the Arabs, they did not stop long. Time was too valuable to be wasted, especially when they were literally running a race with the two thieves who had stolen Fekmah’s map.

But before they left, Bob and Joe took motion pictures of the caravan at several distances. Especially were the youths pleased by the friendly attitude of the Arabs when the camera was held before them.

“Doubt if they know what it’s all about,” smiled Bob. “But that doesn’t keep the pictures from being good.”

“Wouldn’t they be surprised if they could see themselves on the screen!” laughed Joe. “They’d probably think something supernatural was taking place.”

With a cheery farewell the American expedition left the Arabs at the head of the trading caravan and again took up the journey. But it required nearly a half-hour to pass the last of the pack camels, which were guarded at intervals of every fifty animals by an armed Arab.

“Seven hundred camels is a good many,” remarked Bob, as the youths rode at the rear of their own pack animals. “Their owner must have a good bit of money.”

“Many of those Arabs are wealthy, I guess,” said Joe. “Fekmah said some have as many as two thousand camels.”