"Look this way a bit," I said, showing towards the west, on the
horizon, a black spot across the white plain.

It was six o'clock in the morning. The sun had risen. But it could not
be found in the surprisingly polished air. And not a breath of air,
not a breath. Suddenly one of the camels called. An enormous antelope
had just come in sight, and had stopped in its flight, terrified,
racing the wall of rock. It stayed there at a little distance from us,
dazed, trembling on its slender legs.

Bou-Djema had rejoined us.

"When the legs of the mohor tremble it is because the firmament is
shaken," he muttered.

"A storm?"

"Yes, a storm."

"And you find that alarming?"

I did not answer immediately. I was exchanging several brief words
with Bou-Djema, who was occupied in soothing the camels which were
giving signs of being restive.

Morhange repeated his question. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Alarming? I don't know. I have never seen a storm on the Hoggar. But
I distrust it. And the signs are that this is going to be a big one.