torrent which was continuously rising with the impetuous inrush of its
unbridled tributaries. It had stopped raining. The sun shone from a
sky that had renewed its blueness. I could feel the clothes that had a
moment before been drenching, drying upon me incredibly fast.

A hand was placed on my shoulder. Morhange was again beside me.

"Come here," he said.

Somewhat surprised, I followed him. We went into the grotto.

The opening, which was big enough to admit the camels, made it fairly
light. Morhange led me up to the smooth face of rock opposite. "Look,"
he said, with unconcealed joy.

"What of it?"

"Don't you see?"

"I see that there are several Tuareg inscriptions," I answered, with
some disappointment. "But I thought I had told you that I read Tifinar
writing very badly. Are these writings more interesting than the
others we have come upon before?"

"Look at this one," said Morhange. There was such an accent of triumph
in his tone that this time I concentrated my attention.

I looked again.

The characters of the inscription were arranged in the form of a