"I do not know the road."

"Eg-Anteouen is going to guide us."

"Eg-Anteouen!"

I watched Bou-Djema as he made this suppressed ejaculation. His eyes
were fixed on the Targa with a mixture of stupor and fright.

Eg-Anteouen's camel was a dozen yards ahead of us, side by side with
Morhange's. The two men were talking. I realized that Morhange must be
conversing with Eg-Anteouen about the famous inscriptions. But we were
not so far behind that they could not have overheard our words.

Again I looked at my guide. I saw that he was pale.

"What is it, Bou-Djema?" I asked in a low voice.

"Not here, Lieutenant, not here," he muttered.

His teeth chattered. He added in a whisper:

"Not here. This evening, when we stop, when he turns to the East to
pray, when the sun goes down. Then, call me to you. I will tell
you.... But not here. He is talking, but he is listening. Go ahead.
Join the Captain."

"What next?" I murmured, pressing my camel's neck with my foot so as
to make him overtake Morhange.