To make the madcap understand, he took the dead monkey and held it in front of the old woman, then raised an arrow, as Max had done his gun, and pointed it at the woman, letting the monkey fall as he did so. Max shook his head. The gesture was not understood. The chief stood by the side of Max, and raised the rifle to the madcap’s shoulder, making a peculiar noise with his lips as he did so. “Don’t shoot,” said Ibrahim. “I am not going to do so,” answered Max, “unless I shoot his nibs here.” “Who?” asked the Persian, not understanding the slang expression. Max was about to explain, when a loud whoop was given. The old woman had fallen forward--dead. Fright had killed her. But the savages believed that the white man’s magic had ended the poor, old creature’s life. Max and Ibrahim were the heroes of the day. Songs of triumph--in gibberish which might mean anything--dances of the most grotesque kind were indulged in, and it was plain to be seen that these poor savages were nearly mad with joy. When the excitement was at its height, Max whispered to Ibrahim: “Let us run--but as we do so we had better point our guns at the fellows; then they won’t follow.” Awaiting a favorable moment, the young fellows started. The dancing stopped, and the savages went in pursuit. A shower of arrows fell round the explorers. Max turned and raised his rifle. What a change took place! Instead of a hundred warriors pursuing two young men, a hundred backs could be seen, and every savage was trying to break the world’s record in running, not toward the explorers, but away from them. Max laughed so heartily, that had the savages turned, the American would never have been able to point the gun at them. “Come along, Max, or they may repent and follow.” Max needed no second invitation, and had a balloon been above the forest, he would have seen a hundred savages fleeing in one direction, as though pursued by a regiment of well-trained soldiers, and the boys they were afraid of, running just as fast in an opposite one. CHAPTER XI. THE TRIBE OF KLATCH. When Ibrahim and Max returned to the camp, they easily persuaded the Sherif el Habib to steer clear of the petrified forest and its savage occupants. Turning to the southeast, the caravan entered upon an oasis. After the sand which had nearly choked them, it was pleasant to get among the tall marsh grass. It seemed strange that such a difference could exist in so short a distance. Mile after mile of sand, without one drop of water to be found, and then suddenly the sand would cease, and a patch of swampy ground, perhaps covering twenty square miles, would be entered upon. The oasis was the exact antithesis of the desert. There everything was dry, not a leaf of vegetation visible; no water could be obtained, even by sinking deep wells. Now, on the oasis, the land appeared to be covered ankle deep with water.