Craig raised his eyes and dropped them again. He said nothing. He turned
instead once more towards Quest.

"Whatever there may be between us," he said, "your lives are mine at this
moment, if I chose to take them. For the sake of the women, do as I
advise. The Chief invites you to his encampment as his guests."

They all turned towards the Chief, who remained a little on the outside of
the circle. The Professor raised his hat and spoke a few words in his own
language, then he turned to the others.

"I have accepted the invitation of the Chief," he announced. "We had
better start."

* * * * *

"This may not be Delmonico's," Laura remarked, a few hours later, with a
little sigh of contentment, "but believe me that goat-stew and sherbet
tasted better than any chicken and champagne I ever tasted."

"And I don't quite know what tobacco this is," Quest added, helping
himself to one of a little pile of cigarettes which had been brought in to
them, "but it tastes good."

They moved to the opening of the tent and sat looking out across the
silent desert. Laura took the flap of the canvas in her hand.

"What do all these marks mean?" she asked.