"We may as well look around," replied Reeves. "Another thing that puzzles me is, why did the man die in the sand, instead of making his way to the river, which is less than a hundred yards off, and quite visible from here? However, carry on. You, Hugh, go ahead for a hundred paces; Gerald, you go to your left, but no farther than yonder hillock; I'll explore the rocks by the river." Reeves had barely taken thirty steps when a shout from Gerald arrested his attention. "There's a cross stuck up on a sandhill," announced the lad. Making his way in the direction indicated, Hugh having rejoined him, the correspondent found that the cross was in reality a big, cross-hilted sword, planted point downwards in a cleft in the rocks, which were covered to a depth of about a foot with drifting sand. Pulling out the weapon, Reeves examined the blade. It was rusty, but not in such a bad state as the hauberk and helm, the frequent friction of the sand having kept the steel from being badly eaten away. The blade was about three feet six inches in length, perfectly straight except for three inches from the end, where it tapered sharply to a point. The hilt was of iron, devoid of ornamentation. "It looks as if it were placed here for a purpose," remarked Hugh. "It does," replied Reeves, "--as a symbol of faith. See! the cross shows towards the east. But we must be getting back. It will be dark in a few minutes." And, bearing the sword with him, the correspondent led the way back to the bivouac by the river. CHAPTER IX The Mirage WHEN the lads awoke on the following morning they were astonished to smell the appetizing odours of roasting meat. The correspondent was sitting down, busily engaged in rubbing the sword with a piece of wet rag dipped in sand. Five yards away a fire burned dully in the sunlight, while across it a large piece of meat was supported on the long ramrods of the Arab guns. "Killed anything?" asked Hugh laconically, after the customary morning greetings had been exchanged. Life in the desert is not conducive to good manners, although it may be to good fellowship. "I never heard a shot." "No, you did not," replied Reeves dryly. "If you had, I trust you would have wakened instantly and stood to your arms. Unfortunately, I was compelled to kill one of our camels. The poor brute went lame. I feared as much yesterday, when I took them to the river to drink; this morning I found that it was a hopeless case. On the one hand, we've lost a good hierie; on the other, we've a good supply of meat and only one camel to feed, although where we are to get another meal for it goodness only knows. But set to, boys, and have a good breakfast. We've more than we can carry with us." "What are you cleaning up the sword for?" asked Gerald, as he helped himself to a second slice of the savoury meat.