"That is a remark which a poltroon would not have dared to make, Monsieur, and shows you to be a brave man. Be assured that my efforts towards maintaining an unperforated skin will be as energetic as your own. Hysterical madness, such as we were involved in in the forest, shall not recur, if I can help it. My purpose is to camp, as soon as we reach water, and then to allow your omniscient Monsieur Daoud to conduct his investigations under cover of the darkness." As the red disk of the sun sank below the seaward horizon, they topped the gentle rise which terminated in a belt of trees. Not far below them, belling musically through the dusk, came the song of the ripples. Half a mile away, on the far side of the gorge, a dim light twinkled in the growing darkness. Perinaud pointed towards a group of palms. "Here, Monsieur," he explained, "you will find dry earth. You have your cloak. Your saddle is a practical pillow. I have bread, a ration or two of preserved soup, some beans, coffee, a tin of milk, sugar. At the _duar_, where we see that light, are--possibly--chickens. But we are quite as likely to receive a bullet. What does Monsieur advise?" Aylmer smiled. "An immediate picnic. In the friendliest of _duars_ cannibal hordes thirsting for our blood would await us, if we were reckless enough to sleep among them. I prefer to housekeep _à la belle étoile_." The sergeant nodded and gave his orders. Sentries slipped right and left into the night. A tiny fire was kindled in a hollow between two boulders. The tins of preserved soup gave up their secrets, and the ration bread proved that the military bakers of France have discovered the secret of making loaves which will remain fresh and eatable through a whole week of desert marches. Coffee succeeded--coffee made in the empty vegetable tin, and worthy of Maxim's or the Ritz. Daoud drank his portion, shrugged his shoulders fatalistically at the sleeping places which the Goumiers were preparing, and then, without comment, vanished into the night. Aylmer lay back upon his cloak, his head pillowed upon his arm, his pipe between his teeth. He was enjoying to the full the sensations of a pleasantly weary and well-fed horseman. The first drowsy challenge of sleep touched his eyes and brain. The very next instant, as it seemed to him, he was on his feet, revolver in hand, searching the dark aisles of the forest on either side. A shout had echoed from one of the sentries, a hoarse challenge followed almost on the instant by a shot. The cry was repeated, shriller this time with the insistence of anxiety. "_Au secours!_" came the Goumier's voice. "_Au secours!_ There are a score of them; they are all around me!"