The French flag was flying over the Consulate, for the representative of France at Djiddah wished the inhabitants to be informed of what had occurred, and wished, too, to let them know that the French manage their own affairs by themselves, without calling on any one for support or protection. CHAPTER XXV. A solitary Bedouin joined the expedition which set out in search of the Europeans. This was Abou-Zamil, the man whose horse M. de Morin had so unceremoniously appropriated. Anxious to regain his steed; attracted, on the one hand, by the arguments and brilliant inducements held out by the interpreter, Ali; dismayed, on the other, by the threats of the Consul, who seemed disposed to hold him responsible for the abduction of Joseph, the Bedouin, after a period of hesitation, ended by offering his services to the expedition. They were provisionally accepted; but he was not armed, like the men composing the escort, with pistol, gun, and axe. The troop of horsemen dashed through Djiddah at full gallop, and took the road along which, but a few hours previously, the young painter, his interpreter, and his servant had passed. Ali rode at their head and showed them the way. When they reached the ruins of the mill, whence M. de Morin had started off in sole pursuit of his five Bedouins, they stopped to consult. But no deliberation was necessary, for along the sand they could easily discern the tracks left by the camels, and, parallel with them, the fainter hoof-marks of Abou-Zamil's horse. This trail the whole troop followed for five or six leagues, but the sun, gradually taking leave of the plain over which they had been riding for the last two hours, was slowly sinking behind the mountains of El-Hejaz, which bounded the horizon. A few moments more and the track would no longer be visible. They determined to profit to the utmost by the sun's last rays, and the horses, urged on by their riders, increased their pace, and soon placed another dozen miles behind them. By this time the sun had just given place to the stars, whose light, brilliant as it was, did not suffice to light up the track. Another halt was therefore made, and a fresh consultation held. Should they trust to fortune and ride on at hap-hazard? Or would it be better to trust themselves to Abou-Zamil, who undertook to act as guide and bring the travellers to the precise spot where he imagined his friends would have stopped? This question gave rise to some consideration, for the Bedouin seemed to be an object of suspicion to everybody except Ali and Omar—the two interpreters—who maintained that, up to a certain point, he might be trusted. Their opinion prevailed; but M. Périères thought it prudent to take Abou-Zamil aside and address the following little speech to him, which was simultaneously translated by one of the interpreters.