I followed him. We had the greatest difficulty in proceeding two or
three hundred meters. Finally we saw at our feet a little rushing
brook where the water was falling a trifle.

"See there?" said Morhange.

A blackish bundle was balancing on the waves of the creek.

When we had come up even with it we saw that it was a man in the long
dark blue robes of the Tuareg.

"Give me your hand," said Morhange, "and brace yourself against a
rock, hard."

He was very, very strong. In an instant, as if it were child's play,
he had brought the body ashore.

"He is still alive," he pronounced with satisfaction. "Now it is a
question of getting him to the grotto. This is no place to resuscitate
a drowned man."

He raised the body in his powerful arms.

"It is astonishing how little he weighs for a man of his height."

By the time we had retraced the way to the grotto the man's cotton
clothes were almost dry. But the dye had run plentifully, and it was
an indigo man that Morhange was trying to recall to life.