They looked at the body of the great bird, which lay still. Jack experienced a revulsion of feeling. Why had they ever come out on this ostrich hunt, anyway? To kill so beautiful a thing seemed a crime. Ali looked up at him and said: “We may as well take the plumes now.” “Oh, I don’t want them,” said Jack. “Let’s find Bob.” Ali smiled slightly. He could understand his companion’s distaste. As for him, inured to hardships, was he to be so shaken up by one that he neglected to pick a small fortune, a tidy sum, in ostrich plumes? Death of his life, no. He strode to the body of the ostrich and began methodically to pull out the barbs of the plumes. In the meantime, Jack through his glasses scanned the horizon, searching for signs of Bob. Now that the danger to Ali was past, recollection of the fact that no sign of his comrade had yet appeared, flooded back on him. What could have become of Bob? Jack was filled with anxiety. Certainly, no matter whither he had strayed he would have given some sign ere this. Could his camel have thrown him? Did he lie stunned somewhere on the desert? That seemed the most likely possibility. “Hurry, Ali,” he called, still sweeping his glance around the desert. “We must go and look for Bob.” Ali completed his task, having picked the best of the plumes, and left the rest to fortune, stirred by the peremptoriness of Jack’s tone. As he walked nearer, Jack suddenly voiced a low exclamation. “What it is?” Ali asked. “Do you see Mister Bob?” “I thought I saw a man on horseback over there,” said Jack, pointing toward the northeast, where the ridge of higher sand dunes which earlier had caught his gaze, lying to the north of him, stretched eastward. “A horseman?” Ali’s tone grew alert. “We have no horses here.” “Now I can’t see any more,” said Jack. “Look here, what’ll we do? We’ve got to go and look for Bob. He’s strayed, that’s all there is to it.” Rapidly he outlined to Ali his fears that Bob had strayed from his course and became enmeshed among the higher sand hills, perhaps had been pitched from his camel. Ali, whose glasses had been lost in his fall, scouted around until he recovered them beneath a bush. Then he, too, examined the sand dunes Jack indicated. “That horse you saw,” Ali said presently. “I don’t like it.” “What do you mean?” Jack demanded quickly. “Desert robbers?” “Perhaps,” said Ali. “Although this is off the caravan routes and is not rich ground for robbers. Perhaps, the Athensians.” “Oh, come now,” scoffed Jack. Nevertheless, he, too, experienced a sudden sense of fear. “Well,” said Ali, “take me up behind you, and we’ll investigate. Mister Bob’s trail ought to be easy to follow.”