"That was not a bad move of ours, was it? But how are we to get out of this fix? Those idiots are looking at us without budging an inch, and we are looking at them without stirring a yard. This dumb show may last for a considerable time, and still de Morin is not given back to us." "And you may add," observed the young doctor, as he, in his turn, lighted a cigar, "that these savages have, doubtless, breakfasted well, whilst we are simply famishing and our provisions are exhausted. And, in addition to all that, there is this terrific heat, which they do not seem to mind in the least, whilst I am being roasted, joint by joint. Now, if we could only get into the shade, under those palm-trees yonder." "Do not dream of any such thing. In our immobility lies our strength." "That is possible; but it also possesses the power of making me very sleepy. Holloa! what is going on down there? It seems to me that there are some fresh bûrnus on the scene. Have these wretches received a reinforcement? There are enough of them already, goodness knows." "Yes," said M. Périères, standing up in his stirrups, "those are the eight men we missed. Our interpreter was complaining just now of being out in his reckoning. He ought to be satisfied now." As a matter of fact, several Bedouins emerged from the clump of palms on the right of the camp, and rejoined the main body. "Your friend is in their midst!" exclaimed Ali, suddenly. "I thought as much." M. Périères and M. Delange, too much moved to speak, pressed each other's hand in silence. The friend whom, though they never confessed as much, they believed to be dead, still lived and was close to them. They saw him, as he came towards them, insulted by one, hustled by another, struck by a third, half naked, covered with blood, but calm and almost smiling. When he reached the main body of the Bedouins they opened out to let him pass and placed him in the front rank, face to face with their captive chief. CHAPTER XXIX. The first thought of M. de Morin, as soon as he saw that only about a dozen yards separated him from his friends, was to speak to them. "You are indeed good to come to my rescue," said he, "for one moment later and they would have shot me. But when the report that you had seized upon their chief reached the ears of my gaolers, they postponed my execution so that I might play the part of hostage." The Nomads, when first they heard their prisoner speaking, were silent, expecting to be able to understand what he said. When, however, they found that they could not even catch the sense of his words, one of them hit him a violent blow with the butt-end of his musket as a hint to be silent. M. Périères at once told one of his men to hit the chief precisely as M. de Morin had been hit. The Bedouins, though horrified at this indignity, understood the lesson and took the hint.