For months Rali had waited with that patience and will that are gifted to his race. Now it was _his turn_ to move the pawn of breathless import that should win or lose a mighty stake in the gamble of life. Now, surely, his opponents had grown unwary, forgetful of the danger of being followed, and vigilance relaxed in confidence of their security behind tracks that had grown dim upon the sand, or obliterated by kindly elements of Time. Not now would the robbers guess that Rali had followed those self-same tracks while they were yet fresh to the vision, and had read there the riddle of the sands as clearly as scholar might read parchment. For two days he had followed them; afterwards he had stored in his mind the acute observations by which he hoped he would ultimately run the robbers to earth. He knew the tribe the robbers belonged to; knew each camel of the band should he ever cross their tracks again: marvellous observation and memory that are second nature to the tribes of the desert places, reared by the wayside of drifting sand and shepherds of camels from childhood. It was evening. The sun, which had blazed down on the hot sand all day with the heat of a furnace fire, had dipped below the straight plain-edge of the horizon. For a fleeting moment the sand took on a ruddy glow, and, in the gracious, luminous light, even the soiled dress of the men and women of the bush-camp lost all shabbiness. Then the soft light died out, and it was almost night. In the centre of the Tuareg encampment, of frail skin-covered gipsy shelters, three saddled camels were kneeling ready for a journey. Two awaited riders, the third was burdened with provisions; leather bags containing native food, and goatskins filled with precious water. Presently Rali and Yofa, accompanied by a group of their friends, came up to the camels in readiness to depart. Both were fully armed with modern rifles and belts of ammunition. Solemnly the travellers bade good-bye to their comrades in camp. Then they swung easily into their saddles; and on the instant the camels felt touch of human hand they rose from the ground. “Brothers, we depart,” cried Rali. “Tidings wing faster than the winds across the sands. See! we start south on the way to Kano, our tracks will lead in that direction and be lost. Hold fast our secret. Ere to-morrow we will turn about and speed north—and no stranger must know. In your salaams to the Rising Sun plead that Allah protect us. If life be spared we shall come back, bearing with us the beautiful Kahena, when the days are young in the moon which is called _Germuda_.” [Illustration: A BRIEF HALT] And the camels padded noiselessly off into the night: gaunt, moving objects that dwindled down to shadowy specks on the plain of sand—then disappeared.