Foster James H.
Captured by the Arabs

As the explorers moved on, they saw other signs of small game. Occasionally Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis displayed their skill with a rifle by shooting creatures from a great distance.

“Seems to be getting a little darker,” remarked Joe, as they descended into a little valley.

“Darker? Couldn’t be.”

Then, as Bob gazed ahead at the opposite slope, he uttered an exclamation of bewilderment.

“It is getting darker!” he cried. “Why – why, it’s impossible. Dark at nine in the morning! Something’s wrong somewhere!”

A second later Mr. Holton rode up to the boys anxiously.

“Get out your goggles!” he directed them. “We seem to be riding into a fog of black dust. Tishmak thinks we may have to stop for the day.”

CHAPTER XV
As Guests of Heathens

“WHAT!” cried Bob excitedly. “Stop for the day! We – we can’t. Our time is worth too much!”

The naturalist laughed unwillingly.

“This time it’s a question of what we have to do,” he said dryly. “If the blackness increases, it will be suicide to plunge through it with so many rocks and walls of stone near.”

The boys and Mr. Holton rode on up to the front of the caravan, where Tishmak and Fekmah were visibly moved with fear.

The darkness was becoming more intense with every minute. Soon the explorers could not see one another.

“It might be well to get off our dromedaries,” suggested Mr. Lewis. “If this is to continue long, it won’t pay to remain mounted.”

“This is likely to mean a loss of several hours,” said Fekmah gravely. “Then again, the fog of dust might pass away in but few minutes.”

“Worst thing about it is the difficulty to breathe,” pointed out Dr. Kirshner. “Tragedy has been known to come upon caravans in this manner.”

It was indeed stifling, but the adventurers managed to get air through the dust. They feared every minute that time would bring about an impossibility to breathe.

Much to their relief, that dread moment did not come, and after a half-hour the blackness gradually thinned out until it again became light.

“Thank goodness!” breathed Mr. Lewis. “Now let’s get on our way again.”

Still more the country was changing. The rocks became more jagged, taking on many shapes and forms. Small trees and plants became more abundant, causing the region to resemble certain areas of the American desert. And along with this plant life came numerous traces of wild animals.

“Wish we would run across a fox,” said Joe. “I’m anxious to shoot anything.”

“Probably will,” returned Bob. “I guess there are not only foxes but jackals and other small game. There should be much more here than in the sandy section.”

The party stopped at eleven o’clock for the meal and midday rest. This time the dromedaries alone were to be the guards, for they had already proved their efficiency in detecting unusual noises.

At two they were again on their way, climbing a gentle slope widespread with sharp rocks.

“Seems strange to get away from the sand dunes,” remarked Bob. “It hardly is like a desert now.”

As they passed up a rocky hill, Fekmah called a halt.

“We have come to the Tudemait Plateau,” he announced, getting out the map that he had made from memory. “That sharp peak in the distance is one of the landmarks. Now we pass through this plateau for rest of today and part of tomorrow; then come to another sandy stretch.”

“Then what?” inquired Mr. Holton.

“Get to Ahaggar Mountains,” the Arab replied. “We have to follow compass more close from now on, because must see peak called Illiman. Then we know we near treasure.”

“And here’s hoping those two thieves haven’t gotten there first and taken everything away,” said Joe.

That afternoon they came to a small well and refilled their containers, which were beginning to get low. Despite the fact that the water was exceedingly warm, it was greatly welcomed by the explorers.

A high hill was before them, and Bob suggested that they climb to the top afoot and make out the character of the land ahead of them.

The others were in favor of doing so, for Fekmah might catch sight of something that would be recognized as a landmark on the map.

The climb was tiresome but easy, the many boulders offering footholds. Finally they reached the top and turned their gaze toward the horizon.

“What’s that ’way over there?” asked Joe, pointing to a narrow valley walled closely by high rocks.

Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton had their binoculars strapped over their shoulders. They took them out and peered into the distance.

Suddenly Mr. Holton started.

“It’s a village!” he exclaimed, and Mr. Lewis nodded. “A village of Arabs. Look at the low huts of sun-baked mud,” handing the binoculars to Fekmah.

“Yes,” said Fekmah, gazing out through the glasses. “Suppose we go over there and see them. They treat us all right. It not take much of our time.”

“All right,” returned Dr. Kirshner. “I’m anxious to make a casual study of them. They might have some primitive implements that belonged to their remote ancestors.”

The adventurers made their way down the hill and mounted their camels. Then they rode off toward the distant valley. It was a good distance away, and perhaps hard of access, but the explorers were determined to find it.

In less time than they had expected, they came to a spot that would probably afford an opening into the valley. For a few minutes they wound in and out among the rocks. Then they came within sight of the village.

A crowd of Arabs ran out to meet them, uttering hearty greetings. It was evident that expeditions rarely passed within sight of their dwellings, for they were very excited.

Tishmak and Fekmah conversed with the people in a very friendly manner and then introduced the others of the American expedition.

Dr. Kirshner and the naturalists found it almost impossible to understand the language, and they were satisfied with Fekmah’s translations.

“A good chance to take some movies,” said Bob, getting out the camera.

“Don’t suppose the Arabs would object,” added Joe. “At any rate, we’ll risk it.”

The youths cranked off several scenes of the Arabs and their village. It was clear to the explorers that the people had never seen a motion-picture camera before. The strange purring box was an object of curiosity, and they crowded around like so many children.

To the Americans, these people were of great interest. The men and women dressed almost alike, in a long, white robe that reached to the ankles. A tight-fitting cloth was wound around the head, and the back of the neck was protected from the sun by a black veil. They were of a naturally swarthy complexion, which was still further darkened by the fierce desert heat.

“Not very pleasant to look at,” said Bob to his chum. “But they sure are giving us a hearty welcome.”

“That’s probably because they’re so unused to seeing strangers,” Joe remarked. “Nearly all friendly natives are that way.”

The Arabs led the explorers into the main part of the village, where there was a large open space before the chief’s, or sheik’s, hut. Suddenly the head native stopped and pointed to a distant large rock. He babbled animatedly to Tishmak and Fekmah, whose faces took on a look of disgust.

“Sheik say over there is a place where they bury those guilty of witchcraft,” Fekmah explained to the Americans. “They put to a terrible death, and then their bones taken over there.”

Mr. Holton shook his head repulsively.

“Ignorance is the root of evil,” he said. “These people are even worse off than the Negroes of the Congo. They so infrequently come into contact with civilization that they have degenerated into a state of almost nothingness.”

“With even more respect for Fekmah and Tishmak, the Arabs in many remote sections of the Sahara are a bloodthirsty, treacherous, and immoral people,” put in Dr. Kirshner. “They do not at all compare with their brothers in Algiers and other places nearer the coast.”

Fekmah nodded.

“Praise be to Allah that I was not born here,” he muttered.

The sheik invited the explorers to stay for dinner, but Fekmah politely refused, saying that they must hurry on.

“We have many miles to go yet,” he told them in the native tongue. “If we are to get far today we must be going now.”

The explorers left the village for their camels, the Arabs shouting warm farewells.

“Professor Bigelow ought to be here,” smiled Joe, referring to a famous anthropologist who had accompanied them on their expedition in Brazil.

“Wouldn’t he be tickled,” laughed Mr. Lewis. “But then – maybe he’s already been here. He has been about everywhere else studying primitive people.”

Soon the adventurers were out of the narrow valley, again taking up the journey. They were glad to get started again, welcoming any new sight in the way of oddly shaped rocks, deep valleys, and other formations of nature.

Darkness was rapidly falling, but they kept traveling until it became impossible to see ahead. Then Tishmak held up his hand for them to stop.

Again they waited for the moon, not continuing the trip until it came out.

“Tonight we must make up for the lost time at village,” said Fekmah. “We can stand to stay up an hour later.”

It was not until eleven o’clock that they finally came to a stop in a wild, rocky region. The tents were put up for the night.

The next morning the explorers were barely up when Joe happened to notice something crawling toward him as he sat near the tent.

He was up in a moment, looking about fearfully.

“A scorpion!” he cried excitedly.

CHAPTER XVI
Steady Aim

THE creature that was slowly moving toward Joe was as large as his hand, with long, powerful legs that were doubled ready to spring. And Joe well knew what that spring would mean.

The youth viewed the hideous scorpion with a terrible awe, fearing to move lest it become angered and charge. What was he to do? He knew he could not get up in time, for his terrible enemy would be upon him. Yet if he should remain sitting, he would surely feel the hairy mass upon him in a very few seconds.

Slowly Joe reached into his holster for his pistol. He was a poor shot with such a weapon, but the chance had to be taken. Still there was a possibility that he might kill the huge spider by throwing the gun at it.

With a sudden movement the youth drew out the automatic and carefully but hurriedly threw it with all his strength.

Then his heart sank as he saw the gun whiz past the scorpion and roll across the hard ground. The sudden movement angered the creature still more, and it crouched as if to charge.

Suddenly, as a last resort, Joe sprang to his feet and dodged to one side, just as the scorpion left the ground. As the result the charge was unsuccessful, the huge spider alighting several feet to the youth’s left.

The next moment Joe was in the tent, looking about nervously. He picked up his rifle and dashed back outside.

The scorpion was slowly crawling toward the entrance to the tent when Joe took careful aim and fired.

His aim was true. The small bullet caught the creature squarely, shattering it into pulp, which flew in several directions.

After watching the remains of the scorpion for a moment, Joe turned about, to find Dr. Kirshner and Bob standing beside him with small rifles.

“That was a wonderful shot, Joe,” praised the archæologist. “Bob and I happened to have our rifles and would have taken a shot at the scorpion if you had missed.”

“So you saw, did you? Well, I don’t mind saying that I was frightened stiff for a few minutes. Thought sure I was a goner.”

He was forced to tell of the entire experience, and in the end his listeners looked grave.

“A very narrow escape,” said Dr. Kirshner, who, along with the naturalists and Fekmah, had listened breathlessly.

“Scorpions are terrible adversaries,” said Mr. Holton soberly. “The fluid they inject is extremely poisonous! From now on we’ll have to watch more closely.”

After breakfast the explorers continued on the dromedaries. They were to reach another stretch of sand dunes late that afternoon, Tishmak told them.

“Sand hills will seem good after these endless miles in the Tudemait Plateau,” remarked Joe. “But there won’t be any shade, and there is a little here from the rocks.”

“Wait till we get to the Ahaggars, if you want shade,” smiled Mr. Lewis. “Some of that region resembles the mountainous part of Arizona. There are deep ravines, narrow valleys, high peaks, unknown caves, and many other remarkable phenomena of nature.”

“That is where our journey comes to an end, isn’t it?” asked Bob.

“Yes. In the southern part of the Ahaggar range. Thus far, Fekmah hasn’t had much need of the map, because he has directed us more by compass. But when we see the mountains, it will be necessary for him to consult it frequently. Whether or not it will prove accurate, made from memory as it was, we have yet to see.”

The way now led through a dry river valley, which wound through the many black rocks. Some of the rugged hills near by towered to two and three thousand feet, their perpendicular sides gray or deep black.

There was sparse vegetation, but a few gum trees were scattered about over the hard soil.

Tishmak had informed them that they would come to a well some time that afternoon. The water, he said, would be very cool, for it came from far underground.

“I’d like to see that Land of Thirst you were talking about,” remarked Joe to Fekmah, as the Arab mentioned the well of cool water that lay ahead of them. “It must be an interesting region.”

Fekmah shook his head.

“Caravans avoid it much as can,” he said grimly. “Too much danger of falling dead. Then, too, it is supposed to be inhabited by evil spirits.”

“Evil spirits?”

“Yes. Superstitious natives near there never see parts of it. I much glad we not have to go through it, because we sure to get very much thirsty.”

Shortly after the explorers had passed around a large hill they heard camel steps from behind a sharp corner in the river bed.

“Quick!” directed Dr. Kirshner. “Let’s hide in back of these rocks. It may be more bandits.”

The adventurers drove their dromedaries out of sight and then followed, looking about cautiously.

The sound of footsteps grew louder, and soon a small caravan of natives came into view, looking very strange indeed with their faces tightly covered with black veils.

“Tuaregs!” exclaimed Dr. Kirshner, who had made a study of the peoples in the Sahara. “Tuaregs at last!”

He rode out from behind the place of hiding and shouted a friendly greeting in their own language. The people at once called back and moved on up to the archæologist.

“Guess we might as well go out,” smiled Mr. Holton, urging his camel to move forward.

Soon the others joined Dr. Kirshner, who seemed to be having no trouble in understanding the people.

“They live in the Ahaggars,” explained the archæologist, after a few minutes of conversing with them. “They’re on their way north to In Salah. That’s a town of considerable importance.”

The natives did not stop long, and the American expedition was also anxious to be going.

“I didn’t know Tuaregs were found this far north,” said Mr. Lewis, as the people disappeared from view. “Their home is in the lower Ahaggars, and they seldom ever, if what I’ve heard is true, wander far away.”

The explorers stopped before noon for the meal and rest. Then, at two o’clock, they continued on their way, anxious to leave the plateau behind.

Suddenly, as they gradually ascended a long grade, an agile form darted out to one side of Bob’s dromedary, its red coat showing brightly in the sunlight.

“A fox!” Bob exclaimed and raised his rifle to his shoulder.

Glancing along the sights, he pulled the trigger. There was a howl of pain as the bullet struck the animal broadside. Another howl; then silence.

“You got him!” cried Joe, delighted.

“A big specimen, too,” declared Mr. Lewis, getting out his knife.

The animal was carefully but rapidly skinned and the hide placed in the solution of preservative.

“Already we have a large number of specimens,” said Mr. Holton, as they left the skinned body behind. “And we hope to see a good many other animals and birds as we pass on.”

Late that afternoon the adventurers came to the well that Tishmak had told about, and found the water very cool. It reached the surface in a shady spot among the many high rocks.

All drank with a thirst that came from long traveling in a dry, hot region. Bob and Joe especially welcomed it, the latter declaring it better than flavored beverages.

“That’s right,” agreed Mr. Holton. “One can drink many things, but water is, after all, the old stand-by.”

When the containers were filled, the explorers rested in the shade of the rocks. There was something about that spot that made them hesitate to leave it behind. Perhaps it was the cool water, or it might have been the wall-like formations of stone all about.

Finally Tishmak got up and mounted his dromedary, motioning for the others to follow suit.

All the remainder of that afternoon they trudged on over the Tudemait Plateau. Slightly to their surprise, they had not yet reached the region of sand that lay at the south of the plateau. Fekmah especially was very restless, saying that he could not understand why the rocky region had not been left behind shortly after the midday rest.

“It supposed to be only about a hundred and seventy kilometers [about one hundred miles] across, and we have traveled at least that far,” he said, very much perplexed.

“Perhaps we have followed the arc of a circle,” suggested Mr. Lewis. “Suppose you ask Tishmak.”

The guide was also in the dark, not being able to give an explanation.

“Well,” said Bob, “it might be well to keep going awhile longer. We’ll surely come to the sandy region before long.”

The others thought this good advice, but late that evening they were still on the plateau.

They retired that night with high hopes that the morning would bring good fortune. During the last few hours they had had an uneasy feeling that their efforts to find the region of sand were in vain.

The next day they were off early, after a hurried breakfast.

“We’ll get out of these rocks some time this morning,” predicted Mr. Lewis with a smile.

And he was right. Gradually the boulders they passed grew smaller and the soil more loose. By the time they had stopped for the noon meal they were again among sand dunes.

The heat was now terrific. If it had been warm before, it was scorching now. Everywhere they went they were under the blaze of the fierce sun. How the camels managed to keep from burning their feet was a mystery to the youths.

Their throats were parched, their tongues numb. Water, water! If they could only drink and drink and drink! But only small amounts were allowed to be taken, for this region was many, many miles across, and there was no well or oasis anywhere near their path of traveling.

“If we have much more of this I’m afraid I’ll fall off my camel,” said Bob with a grim smile.

“Not quite that bad off, are you?” laughed Dr. Kirshner. “Dying of thirst is a rare occurrence in this part of the Sahara. But it does happen sometimes, and it is a tragic death indeed.”

“Worst thing is,” explained Mr. Holton, “there is a time when the victim of thirst would die should he touch water. In that case, water is virtually a poison.”

The sand hills that they were passing over were much lower than those in the country below Wargla. The desert stretched away to the horizon in endless waves, which, as far as the travelers could see, were unbroken.

Vegetation was scarce, only a scattering of yellow plants dotting the dunes. This promised to be a disadvantage to the dromedaries, for previously they had occasionally nibbled on the trees and shrubs that were clustered about.

“Look at the sky,” said Joe, turning his gaze upward.

“Funny color, isn’t it?” Bob returned. Then, as he peered into the distance, he uttered an exclamation of surprise and fear.

But the others had seen also and were equally as excited.

Away to their right a heavy mist had risen and was rapidly turning reddish.

“A sandstorm!” cried Fekmah in great anxiety. “A sandstorm is coming!”

CHAPTER XVII
Moments of Horror

THE explorers, particularly Tishmak, knew the danger of a sandstorm. It was not infrequent for large caravans to be completely engulfed by the heavy veil of sand, leaving only the dead bodies of the camels and their riders. The Americans remembered a tale that Fekmah had told them about a trading caravan of five hundred dromedaries coming to a tragic end in this region. Would their little caravan also perish?

“Get your goggles,” commanded Fekmah, his tone indicating that he was calm even in the face of danger.

“And be sure they fit tightly!” warned Dr. Kirshner. “Even then we’ll get some of the sand.”

The atmosphere was rapidly becoming extremely dry and hot, and at intervals a fierce wind brought minute particles of sand into the explorers’ faces.

“Now,” began Fekmah, after conversing briefly with the guide, “we must get dromedaries in group, so they not get fright and run away. Then we crouch down behind them.”

The camels were drawn up together and fastened in a circle with ropes.

“It might be wise to put up our tent, mightn’t it?” asked Mr. Lewis, but Fekmah shook his head vigorously.

“No, no,” he said. “Then we get in trap and not get out. If sand very heavy, we want to be in open.”

The dense mist was thickening and spreading, until it soon covered the whole horizon. The sky in the distance was not visible for the heavy cloud of fine particles.

The explorers got out blankets and wrapped themselves tightly. Even then, said Fekmah, the small bits of soil would get through to their skins.

They had scarcely finished preparations when the first breaker suddenly came with all force, striking the adventurers in the face and penetrating the blanket.

It was blinding, smothering, but they managed to get air and fought with a determination that was born of adventure. Crouching behind the sturdy dromedaries, they held their heads low to avoid as much of the fury of the storm as possible.

It was with great difficulty that the camels kept their positions together, but they succeeded admirably.

“Doesn’t seem right for them to have to stop the sand for us,” said Joe, shouting in order to make himself heard.

“It’s a shame,” Bob shouted back. “But they can probably stand it better than we can.”

Slowly they found themselves enveloped in a heavy opaque atmosphere, so dense as to seem almost as a wall. The thought of being completely covered up was constantly in their minds, bringing about almost a feeling of despair.

The burning wind was constantly lashing them in the face, until it seemed that they could stand it no longer. Indeed, if their heavy goggles had not been of unbreakable glass, the furious particles of sand would have smashed them in the explorers’ eyes. Even as it was, some of the sand found its way in.

“This is terrible!” moaned Joe. “Awful – simply – ”

He stopped suddenly, as his mouth became filled with sand. Another gust of wind had come, bringing with it an enormous quantity of the burning sand.

The explorers’ eyes were smarting, their lips were cracked and bleeding. They felt that they would smother. Nothing could have been worse, it seemed.

They could hear the dromedaries snorting with fear and irritation. What if the brutes could not stand?

Conversation was now impossible, for they dared not open their mouths for fear of swallowing some of the stinging sand. Even when they breathed, the fine particles filtered through the net that hung over their faces.

The sky above was of a bright red color, and a weird light trickled through the fog of yellow. It was the most unusual happening that the Americans had ever witnessed.

“If it just wasn’t for this terrible wind!” muttered Mr. Holton, when there had come a slight lull.

“Yes,” agreed Fekmah. “Then it not be so hard to stand it.”

He had scarcely finished when another gust of hot sand struck them cruelly, making their faces sting anew.

Suddenly Tishmak noticed that they were nearly engulfed in a heavy pile of sand. With a quick motion he drew himself out and drove the dromedaries to another spot.

For a brief moment the explorers were exposed to the full violence of the storm. Then they again took places behind the newly located camels.

“Not taking any chances on being covered up, are you?” said Dr. Kirshner to Tishmak.

The latter did not understand the words, but he caught the meaning and smiled.

How long the terrific onslaught of sand lasted, no one knew. They had lost all sense of time, and the heavy atmosphere completely hid the sun.

It was only gradually that the terrible storm subsided, and then the air was exceedingly hot and dry, promising to remain that way for some time. Slowly the cloud of sand about them grew thin, until it finally cleared away completely. Now only an occasional hot wind annoyed them, but it was scarcely anything compared to the previous bombardment of sand.

“No more of anything like that for me!” muttered Bob, as he worked his feet loose from the high pile that strove to bury him alive.

The dromedaries, too, had their legs embedded in the sand so deeply that it required several minutes of constant digging to relieve them.

“Suppose we rest awhile before going on,” suggested Bob. “It has been a great strain for all of us, standing against that terrible rush of sand.”

The others readily agreed, and all thoughts of continuing the journey at once were dismissed from mind.

“At least,” Joe said, “we got out alive, and that’s more than you can say of many caravans.”

“Yes,” returned his father. “Perhaps under this very spot are the bones of men and camels that were not as lucky as we were.”

“That storm rather short lasting,” remarked Fekmah, glancing at his watch. “Many times storm last several hours.”

Joe sighed.

“I’d hate to have had to stand much more of it,” he said.

It was nearly noon, and the tent was pitched for the midday rest. All were very weary after the terrific strain.

“Let’s have our lunch,” suggested Mr. Lewis. “I’m very hungry, and I’m sure everyone else is.”

The noon meal and rest followed, the explorers not continuing until after three o’clock.

Late that afternoon they came to one of the largest uninhabited oases that they had yet seen. It was situated snugly on a narrow stretch between high dunes.

“It’s a wonder a small town hasn’t sprung up around here,” remarked Bob, drinking greedily of the refreshing water that gushed from the large spring.

Dr. Kirshner nodded.

“With all these palm trees and the abundance of water it is surprising,” he said. “But I suppose there are so few people, even among the natives, who would live here that it wouldn’t pay.”

The containers were hurriedly filled.

“It might be well to stay here for the night,” said Fekmah. “It is getting late, and we all need sleep very bad.”

He turned to Tishmak and put the question before him in the native language.

The guide at once gave his approval, more than glad of the chance to stop.

“He say he wanted to stay here for night, but thought we in big hurry,” Fekmah told the Americans.

“We are,” returned Mr. Holton. “But here is a very good place to camp, and I think we’d better take advantage of the opportunity.”

The tent and provisions were unpacked from the camels, which seemed more than glad of the chance to relax.

“Funny,” remarked Mr. Lewis, “that camels don’t care to lie in the shade when there is an opportunity. You would think the terrible sun would be avoided as much as possible, but that is not the case.”

“Either they like the heat or they are too lazy to move,” said Joe.

For some time the two youths sat with their elders. Then Bob got up and stretched.

“Suppose you and I get on our dromedaries and ride over to that distant hill,” he said to Joe, pointing away to the horizon. “I’d like to see what’s beyond there. This seems to be very high ground, and we might get a view of the distant mountains from the top of that dune.”

“Be sure and take your rifles, boys,” warned Mr. Lewis. “And don’t stay too long.”

The boys slung their guns over their shoulders and rode off, waving to their friends.

The hill that Bob referred to was at least a mile away, and the ground on the way was of loose sand. The boys urged their mounts to trot faster, however, and they would probably cover the distance in a very short time.

“I wonder if we could get a glimpse of the Ahaggar Mountains?” said Joe.

“Might. But you must remember that we are still a great distance away.”

As the boys had expected, they came to the hill in but a few minutes. It was very high and steep, but the soil was hard. The dromedaries had no difficulty in climbing steadily up.

At last they came to the top and gazed out into the distance.

“Look!” cried Joe. “The mountains! We can see them!”

Sure enough, the Ahaggar range was visible, stretching miles and miles to either side. A few sharp peaks protruded high above the others, but for the most part the line of mountains was rather regular.

“Suppose that high peak is Illiman?” asked Joe, pointing to a high crag that towered above the other mountains.

“You mean the one Fekmah was talking about? It might be. He would know if he saw it, I suppose. And of course Tishmak would.”

The youths spent nearly a half-hour peering out at the mountains, greatly impressed by the wonderful view.

“How far away do you suppose they are?” questioned Joe.

“Fifty miles, at least; maybe more. It will probably take us another half-day to get to them.”

Finally the youths turned and rode back down the hill to tell their elders of the magnificent view. Fekmah particularly would be pleased, Joe thought.

But the boys were not overly anxious to get back to the oasis at once. There were many other high sand dunes that they would like to ride over.

“We won’t stay much longer,” said Bob. “Just ride around a bit.”

To their right was another high hill that might afford a view in another direction. The youths rode over to it and climbed the gradual side.

Then, when they came to the top, they cried out in surprise and fear.

In the distance appeared to be a whole regiment of galloping horsemen coming toward them!