," Quest said
grimly. "Do you suppose that fellow could have been watching?"

They all talked together for a time in low voices. The Professor was
inclined to scout the theory of Craig having approached them.

"You must remember," he pointed out, "that the Mongars hate these fellows.
It was part of my arrangement with Hassan that they should leave us when
we got in sight of the Mongar Encampment. It may have been meant for
Hassan. The Mongars hate the dragomen who bring tourists in this direction
at all."

They talked a little while longer and finally stole away to their tents to
sleep. Outside, the camel drivers talked still, chattering away, walking
now and then around Hassan's body in solemn procession. Finally, one of
them who seemed to have taken the lead, broke into an impassioned stream
of words. The others listened. When he had finished, there was a low
murmur of fierce approval. Silent-footed, as though shod in velvet, they
ran to the tethered camels, stacked the provisions once more upon their
backs, lashed the guns across their own shoulders. Soon they stole away--a
long, ghostly procession--into the night.

"Those fellows seem to have left off their infernal chattering all of a
sudden," Quest remarked lazily from inside the tent.

The Professor made no answer. He was asleep.

CHAPTER XII

A DESERT VENGEANCE

1.

Quest was the first the next morning to open his eyes, to grope his way
through the tent opening and stand for a moment alone, watching the
alabaster skies. Away eastwards, the faint curve of the blood-red sun
seemed to be rising out of the limitless sea of sand. The light around him
was pearly, almost opalescent, fading eastwards into pink. The shadows had
passed away. Though the sands were still hot beneath his feet, the silent
air was deliciously cool. He turned lazily around, meaning to summon the
Arab who had volunteered to take Hassan's place. His arms--he had been in
the act of stretching--fell to his sides. He stared incredulously at the
spot where the camels had been tethered. There were no camels, no drivers,
no Arabs. There was not a soul nor an object in sight except the stark
body of Hassan, which they had dragged half out of sight behind a slight
knoll. High up in the sky above were two little black specks, wheeling
lower and lower. Quest shivered as he suddenly realised that for the first
time in his life he was looking upon the winged ghouls of the desert.
Lower and