ot know that he had been "kidnapped." His impression was that he had
deigned to favour a rather agreeable Roumi with his company. Now he was
returning to his own people, and would bid his Roumi friend good-bye
with the cordiality of one gentleman to another, though with a certain
royal condescension fitted to the difference in their positions.

Nevill was in wild spirits, though pale with heat and fatigue. He had
nothing to say of himself, but much of his aunt and of the boy Mohammed.
"Ripping little chap," he exclaimed, when Saidee had gone indoors. "You
never saw such pluck. He'd die sooner than admit he was tired. I shall
be quite sorry to part from him. He was jolly good company, a sort of
living book of Arab history. And what do you say to our surprise,--the
twins? My aunt sent them off at the same time with the telegram, but of
course they put in an appearance much later. They caught me up this
morning, riding like devils on racing camels, with one guide. No horses
could be got big enough for them. They've frightened every Arab they've
met--but they're used to that and vain of it. They've got rifles--and
bagpipes too, for all I know. They're capable of them."

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, Wings," said Stephen, "and
only a little less glad to see those big fellows with their brave
faces." Then he mentioned to Nevill the apparition of that mysterious
caravan which had appeared, and vanished. Also he described the
behaviour of the Zaouia men when they had looked south, instead of
north.

"Oh, that's all right, I'll bet," exclaimed Nevill, exuberant with the
joy of success, and in the hope of coolness, food and rest. "Might have
been any old caravan, on its own business--nothing to do with us. That's
the most likely thing. But if the marabout's mixed up with it, I should
say it's only because he couldn't bear to stop at home and wait in
suspense, and I don't blame him, now I've made acquaintance with the
kid. He'd be too proud to parade his anxiety under our noses, but would
lurk in the distance, out of our sight, he probably flatters himself, to
welcome his son, and take him back to Oued Tolga. Not unnatural--and in
spite of all, I can't help being a little sorry for the man. We've
humiliated and got the better of him, because we happen to have his
secret. It's a bit like draining a chap's blood, and then challenging
him to fight. He's got all he can expect now, in receiving the child
back and if I c