"I do not know what o'clock it was," answered Joseph, "but it had been dark for a long time, and my camel would go on—on—on—" "To the devil with your camel! We have told you to stop that nonsense. What happened when your master arrived?" "We went faster than ever. The Bedouins heard somebody behind them, and hoped to escape being overtaken. But I distinctly heard the tread of a horse, and I heard M. de Morin call out—'halt, or I fire.' But they did not halt. Then a shot was fired—and then there was some shouting, and more shots—and then the voice of my master again could be heard above the din—and, at last, all was quiet. But my camel would go on—on—on, and I fancied I was alone on his back. The wretched Bedouin had got off. The rest of the caravan were not following us. I got hold of the bridle with both my hands, and tried to stop the camel. I did not think of anything but that. At last, I succeeded, and encouraged by my success, I was about to try to undo the cord round my waist, which tied me to my baggage, when I heard fresh shouts—and that brute of an Arab overtook me—" Joseph was going on with his tale, but M. Périères stopped him once more. "We have allowed you to ramble on in your own way, because we hoped to learn, amongst all this verbiage, something about our friend. What has become of him? Has he been killed by these men? Answer." "I know nothing—I know nothing at all. My Bedouin got up behind me once more, muttering something that I did not then understand, but I soon understood that he intended to beat me; beating—" "Enough," said M. Delange. "Oh, yes, quite enough!" repeated Joseph, naïvely. "What happened afterwards? Did the other Bedouins rejoin you?" "No, we went on alone." "Nobody followed you?" "Nobody; the others remained behind." "And where were you taken?" "To a sort of camp, where everybody ran out to look at me. The women were especially inquisitive. Some of them passed their hands over my hair, and my whiskers—they thought the whiskers very funny. But my Bedouin drove them away, and made me get off the camel. I had no objection to do that, I assure you. Then he ordered me to walk on before him, and he pushed me into a tent, after having robbed me of my bûrnus. Bruised and sore, I fell asleep. In about an hour they seized on me again, and dragged me, on foot this time, which, at all events, was an improvement. Then I heard shouts and a shot or two. I was hit over the back with the butt-end of a gun, and fell down where you found me." "And you cannot tell us anything about M. de Morin?" "Absolutely nothing." "Then, my men," exclaimed M. Périères, turning to his escort, "we must go back to the camp and renew our search." "You are never going to leave me here?" cried Mohammed the miserable. "No, walk in the middle. We shall be obliged to go at a walk, for the horses cannot gallop down this defile."