yes hardened, jaws tightened, and away on the plain trail
of the murderer marched the little column. Turning at the edge of the
thick jungle for a last look back, the three noted an extraordinary
circumstance that touched them deeply and made them feel that even the
savage desert sympathized. A miniature whirlwind of the sort frequent
in the desert was slowly circling the grave; and even as they looked it
swung immediately over it and there stood for some moments, its tall
dust column rising up into the zenith like the smoke of a funeral pyre!
Then on they marched and there they left him, sure that by night lions
would be roaring him a requiem not unfitting his wild spirit.

Just at dusk the party reached a large Danakil town into which the
murderer's trail led, and camped before it.

Told that one of his men had killed their comrade and that they wanted
him, Ali Gorah, the chief, was surly and insolent. He refused to give
him up, said that he wished no war with them, but that if they wanted
any of his people they must fight for them. Then guards were set about
the camp and the little command lay down to sleep within a spear's
throw of thousands of Ali Gorah's wild Danakils. The night passed
without alarms, and then conference was resumed. Fairfax cajoled and
threatened, threatened summoning an army that would wipe Danakil's land
off the map; but all to no purpose. The chief remained obdurate.

Early in the day a courier was sent to McMillan with the story of their
plight and a request for supplies and more men. These were instantly
sent, leaving McMillan himself well nigh helpless, fuming at his own
enforced inaction, alone with the Marlow, his personal attendant, a
handful of men, and a total of only two rifles, as the sole guard of
the caravan for ten more anxious days.

Daily councils were held, always ending in mutual threats. Fairfax
could make no progress, but he would not leave.

One day Ali Gorah lined up two thousand warriors in battle array before
Fairfax's small command and ordered him to move off, under pain of
instant attack. But there Fairfax stubbornly stayed, in the very face
of the certainty that his command could not last ten minutes if the
chief should actually order a charge. His dauntless courage won, and
the war party was withdrawn.

In the meantime some of his Somalis had learned from the Danakils that
the murderer's name was Mirach, and that he was the greatest warrior of
the tr