"I shan't be in danger," he finished. "I'll be up and
back before any one gets near enough to see what I'm at, and pot at me."
As he spoke, the sound of a strange, wild singing came to them, with the
desert wind that blew from the south.
"That's a Touareg song," exclaimed Saidee, turning. "It isn't Arab. I've
heard Touaregs sing it, coming to the Zaouia."
"Madame is right," said the landlord. "I, too, have heard Touaregs sing
it, in their own country, and also when they have passed here, in small
bands. Perhaps we have deceived ourselves. Perhaps we are not to enjoy
the pleasure of a fight. I feared it was too good to be true."
"I can see a caravan," cried Nevill, from his cell in a wall-tower.
"There seem to be a lot of men."
"Would they come like that, if they wanted to fight?" asked the girl.
"Wouldn't they spread out, and hope to surprise us?"
"They'll either try to rush the gate, or else they'll pretend to be a
peaceful caravan," said Stephen.
"I see! Get the landlord to let their leaders in, and then.... That's
why they sing the Touareg song, perhaps, to put us off our guard."
"Into the dining-room, both of you, and have courage! Whatever happens,
don't come out. Will you give me the mirror?"
"Must you go?"
"Yes. Be quick, please."
On the threshold of the dining-room Victoria opened her bag, and gave
him a mirror framed in silver. It had been a present from an
enthusiastic millionairess in New York, who admired her dancing.
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