the intention of following the trail.

This soon brings him from the ruined stage to the olive tree under which
they had laid Aunt Gwen.

Arrived here he utters an exclamation.

"This tells the story. Confusion, indeed."

"What now, monsieur?" echoes the Frenchman.

"See; the tracks are numerous."

"But they would have been had these people moved about a good deal."

"Look again. You will note that they are made by other feet. Many men
have been here. What you once suggested--"

"_Mon Dieu!_ robbers?" as if appalled.

"That explanation is nearer the mark that anything else."

The prospect is appalling, for these wild robbers of the desert fear
neither man nor devil, and when once they retreat to their hiding-places
in the mountains, it is next to folly to dream of following them.

John Craig finds himself in a dilemma. To whom can he appeal in this,
his hour of trial? Will the authorities do anything for him in case the
American or British consul make a demand? Can they accomplish aught?
These wild Bedouins of the desert do not come under the jurisdiction of