He glanced up the side of the peak, but the darkness veiled his vision. "Wonder what became of the old flashlight?" he mused, feeling about on the soft ground. Finally his hand came upon something hard, and a thrill of delight ran through him as he realized that he had found the electric torch. But his heart sank as he saw that it had been damaged by the fall. "Lens wasn't broken, though," he observed. "Must be the bulb." Without the light there was no way of knowing how far he had fallen. But he readily guessed that it was not over eight or nine feet. The moon was just beginning to show itself from behind the thin clouds, and it might be possible to travel in its light. Whether to do so or not, Bob could not easily decide. He knew that Fekmah would be extremely worried if no one returned to camp that night, but he doubted if he could keep awake long enough to direct his dromedary over the right way. He finally made up his mind to stretch out beside the mountain and surrender himself over to sleep. "I hate to treat Fekmah that way, but I don't believe I could make it back," the youth thought, closing his eyes. A second later he fell asleep, not to awaken until the sun was well up in the sky. "Eight o'clock!" he cried, looking at his watch. "By George! I bet Fekmah is throwing a dozen fits." Bob at once jumped up and untied his dromedary. He was on the animal in a moment and rode back toward camp. "I hope I know the way," he thought, as he was carried to the spot where his father, Mr. Lewis, and Tishmak had been captured. But the youth had carefully observed the landmarks as they left camp on the search, and had no difficulty in recognizing the way. First, however, Bob had made a small sketch map of the distant cave in which his father and friend were being held captive. He was positive he could locate it, perhaps without the use of the map. Bob was now passing up the path that Tishmak had believed made by Tuaregs. For a good distance it would be necessary to follow this lane; then he would turn off on a level stretch. Suddenly, as Bob made a sharp bend in the path, his jaw fell in surprise and horror. Not twenty feet away sat a native, a Tuareg, with his back against a low rock. The man was terror-stricken as he watched a long reptile move toward him with a slow, terrible fascination. That the man knew not what to do, Bob rightly guessed. If he should make the slightest move, the reptile, a deadly horned viper, would strike. "It's up to me to come to his rescue," thought Bob, and, raising his rifle, he took steady aim. The report of the gun was followed by a terrible twitching of the snake. Meanwhile the Tuareg had jumped in surprise at the sound of the gun and was now looking at his benefactor thankfully. Bob rode on up to the man and dismounted, to be met by the Tuareg. The latter was of unusual height, towering several inches above Bob, who was himself six feet.