the raiders who had ridden out with Achmet Zek would return with
the murdered body of their chief, and the more he thought upon the
matter the greater his fears became, that without accomplices his
plan would fail.

What, even, if he got away from the camp in safety before any
returned with the true story of his guilt--of what value would
this advantage be other than to protract for a few days his mental
torture and his life? These hard riders, familiar with every trail
and bypath, would get him long before he could hope to reach the
coast.

As these thoughts passed through his mind he entered the tent where
Mohammed Beyd sat cross-legged upon a rug, smoking. The Arab looked
up as the European came into his presence.

"Greetings, O Brother!" he said.

"Greetings!" replied Werper.

For a while neither spoke further. The Arab was the first to break
the silence.

"And my master, Achmet Zek, was well when last you saw him?" he
asked.

"Never was he safer from the sins and dangers of mortality," replied
the Belgian.

"It is well," said Mohammed Beyd, blowing a little puff of blue