by compass, the route we were following. But my calculations were soon
upset; doubtless a mistake due to the swaying motion of the camel. I
put the compass back in one of my saddle-bags. From that time on,
Eg-Anteouen was our master. We could only trust ourselves to him.

He went first; Morhange followed him, and I brought up the rear. We
passed at every step most curious specimens of volcanic rock. But I
did not examine them. I was no longer interested in such things.
Another kind of curiosity had taken possession of me. I had come to
share Morhange's madness. If my companion had said to me: "We are
doing a very rash thing. Let us go back to the known trails," I should
have replied, "You are free to do as you please. But I am going on."

Toward evening of the second day, we found ourselves at the foot of a
black mountain whose jagged ramparts towered in profile seven thousand
feet above our heads. It was an enormous shadowy fortress, like the
outline of a feudal stronghold silhouetted with incredible sharpness
against the orange sky.

There was a well, with several trees, the first we had seen since
cutting into Ahaggar.

A group of men were standing about it. Their camels, tethered close
by, were cropping a mouthful here and there.

At seeing us, the men drew together, alert, on the defensive.

Eg-Anteouen turned to us and said:

"Eggali Tuareg."