much had fallen away since he passed with
Nevill, going to Oued Tolga. One entire wall had been sliced off,
leaving the inside of the tower, with the upper chamber, visible from
below. It was like looking into a half-dissected body, and the effect
was depressing.

"If we should be raided by Arabs now," said the landlord, laughing, as
he saw Stephen glance at the tower, "we should have to pray for help:
there would be no other means of getting it."

"You don't seem to worry much," replied Stephen.

"No, for the Arabs in these parts are sheep nowadays," said the
Frenchman. "Like sheep, they might follow a leader; but where is the
leader? It is different among the Touaregs, where I spent some time
before I came here. They are warriors by nature, but even they are quiet
of late."

"Do you ever see any here?" Stephen asked.

"A few occasionally, going to Touggourt, but seldom. They are
formidable-looking fellows, in their indigo-coloured masks, which stain
their skin blue, but they are tractable enough if one does not offend
them."

There was only one room which could be made passably habitable for
Saidee and Victoria, and they went into it, out of the hot sun, as soon
as it could be prepared. The little luggage they had brought went with
them, and the basket containing the two carrier pigeons. Saidee fed the
birds, and scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper, to tell Sabine
that they had arrived safely at Toudja. On second thoughts, she added a
postscript, while Victoria unpacked what they needed for the night.
"_He_ chose the rendezvous," Saidee wrote. "I suppose I'm too
superstitious, but I can't help wondering if his choice had anything to
do with the ruined tower? Don't be anxious, though. You will probably
receive another line to-morrow night, to say that we've reached the next
stage, and all's well."

"I suppose you think I'm doing wrong to write to him?" she said to
Victoria, as she took one of the pigeons out of its basket.

"No," the girl answered. "Why shouldn't you write to say you're safe?
He's your friend, and you're going far away."

Saidee almost wished that Victoria had scolded her. Without speaking
again, she began to fasten her letter under the bird's wing, but gave a
little cry, for there was blood on her fingers. "Oh, he's hurt himself
somehow!" she exclaimed. "He won't be able to fly, I'm afraid. What
shall I do? I must send the other one. And yet--if I do, there'll be
nothing for to-morro