The Moslem scowled at him. "They could have come from the east, from Timmissao," he said in quite passable English. "Or even from Mauritania." He turned his eyes to Hélène Desage. "_Enchanté, Mademoiselle. Trés heureux de faire ta connaissance._" She gave him the full benefit of her eyes. "_Moi aussi, Monsieur._" Johnny wasn't through with the Malian officer. "There's a hundred of them," he snapped, "with several thousand head of goats and other livestock. It would have been impossible to push that number across from Mauritania or even from the east, and you know it." A lighter complexion would have shown a flush. Mohammed Mohmoud's displeasure was limited in expression to a flashing of desert eyes. He said, "Wherever their origin, the task would seem to be immediately to destroy the animals. That is why my men and I are here." Pierre Marimbert had entered while the conversation was going on. He said, "Johnny, weren't you going over to In Ziza with me?" Hélène Desage said, the tip of her right forefinger to her chin as she portrayed thought, "I can't decide where to go. To this crisis of the Tuareg, or to the crisis of the pumps--whatever that is." Johnny said flatly, "Sorry, but you'd just be in the way at either place." Mohammed Mohmoud was shrugging. "Why not let her come with me? I can guarantee her protection. I have brought fifty men with me, more than a match for a few bedouin." "Gracious," she said. "Evidently I was unaware of the magnitude of this matter. I absolutely _must_ go." Johnny said, "No." She looked at him appraisingly. "Mr. McCord," she said, "I am here for a story. Has it occurred to you that preventing a _Paris Match_ reporter from seeing your methods of operation is probably a bigger story than anything else I could find here?" She struck a mock pose. "I can see the headlines. _Sahara Reforestation Authorities Prevent Journalists from Observing Operations_." "Oh, Good Lord," Johnny growled. "This should happen to me, yet! Go on with Derek and the captain, if you wish." * * * * * Pierre Marimbert and Johnny McCord took one of the faster helicopters, Pierre piloting. With French élan he immediately raised the craft a few feet and then like a nervous horse it backed up, wheeled about and dashed forward in full flight. Spread below them were the several dozen buildings which comprised Bidon Cinq; surrounding the buildings, the acres of palm and pine, eucalyptus and black locust. Quick-growing, dry-climate trees predominated, but there were even such as balsam fir, chestnut and elm. It made an attractive sight from the air.