“Say, that’s pretty tough,” commiserated Bob. “Makes it hard for you when riding, doesn’t it?” A shrug of the shoulders was the other’s sole reply, while he continued to stare at Bob. “Monsieur is, perhaps, an athlete, yes?” he asked, with rising inflection. “He participates in college sports?” Mighty chummy of him, thought Bob. “Oh, a little,” he said. “Monsieur is too modest,” the Athensian said suavely. “Doubtless, he is a great man among the youth of his land. Is it England? Monsieur is not French nor Spanish. Then he must be English. I have heard the English are fine sportsmen.” “Huh,” blurted Bob. “I’m an American. In our country we have as good sports as in England.” “An American?” queried the Athensian, in a tone of enlightenment. “Then how comes monsieur in this far country?” Bob did not reply. What could he say? He was puzzled by the Athensian’s attitude? Asking him about sports first, and then demanding how he came to be here in the Sahara. Besides, how did this Athensian happen to be speaking French, when he lived in a hidden city unknown to the world? Bob decided it would not come amiss for him to ask a question or two by way of continuing the conversation. So he smiled at the other, and said: “How do I happen to be here?” With a laugh: “Oh, just hunting ostriches when you bagged me. What was the meaning of that, anyway? You don’t look like a robber. And how is it you speak French so well?” The Athensian bent a stern gaze on Bob. The twinkle died out of his eyes. “Monsieur was not merely hunting ostriches,” he said. “Yes, perhaps, at the moment. But he came here to meet a scientific man who had blundered upon the secret of those mountains, _ne c’est pas_? Is it not so?” With a quick wave of his hand he indicated the Shaitun Mountains on the southern horizon, just dimly seen in the last of the fading twilight. “Now,” continued the Athensian, “monsieur will be well advised to answer me truthfully. We do not want intruders in those mountains, whence I come. We are not ready yet to receive visitors. And monsieur came to pry into our privacy. Yet it was not for that he has been captured, but for his thews.” “My what?” Bob stared open-mouthed, scarcely able to believe his ears. “The strong men among the slaves were not satisfactory this year,” said the other cryptically. “Monsieur is a good fighter. Yes, he will fight well. He will be well cared-for and be given his chance to distinguish himself.” Bob stared at the cynical, laughing face of the other. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “Monsieur will learn all in good time,” replied the Athensian. “Now he shall eat, and afterwards he shall answer my questions about his companions.” He clapped his hands, and an Athensian guard approached. The leader indicated Bob was to be led away and fed. “Remember,” he called, “monsieur will answer truthfully, or——” He left the sentence unfinished. But Bob smelled the threat of torture, just the same.