Before them, lying on a bed of leaves, was the figure of a man in European clothes. His head, one arm, and side were bound in blood-stained bandages. On his chest lay his right hand, still gripping a pencil, while on his knees lay an old letter, scribbled over. With a cry of pity, Schoverling knelt at the man's side--but started up again in horror. "Good heavens!" His voice rang with a note that struck Charlie's heart. "It is Mowbray--dead!" They pressed forward, and saw that the man was indeed dead. And Mowbray it was--his cheeks fallen in, the bandage half-concealing his face, but the iron chin locked grimly as ever in the last battle. "Yes," said Jack softly. "He's dead, right enough. Must have passed out not long ago, though. Let's see what that letter says, Chuck." Charlie leaned over and picked up the paper sheets. The hut was absolutely bare, save for an empty revolver that lay on the earthen floor. With a shudder the boys emerged into the sunlight again, followed by Schoverling. The wagon had not yet come up, and the doctor was standing over the Arab. He turned at their approach. "No use, mine friends. He iss dead--was ist das? A letter?" He peered down at the paper in Charlie's hand. Without a word the boy handed it to Schoverling. The wagons were just creeping through the first trees, toward the water, and the Indians rushed off to restrain the oxen from plunging into the stream. "Come over here into the shade," said the explorer quietly. "Mowbray is lying in there, Doctor, dead, and seemingly pretty badly wounded. Perhaps these two sheets will throw some light on the situation." They sat down around him beneath one of the big trees, and for a moment there was dead silence as the explorer examined the scrawled writing on the two sheets of paper and tattered envelope. Von Hofe nervously filled his pipe, nearly dropping it in the attempt. "He seems to have written this after he got to the hut here," began the explorer. "It has no date and runs on in disconnected sentences." He paused, a catch in his voice. After a moment he went on, with no further sign of the emotion that must have possessed him. "'Yesterday the camel died. Conscious but helpless. Arm, leg, ribs and head broken. Five days travel, to south. Zahir hurt, but managed to drag me to river and trees. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, whence cometh--' "That's the first of it," said the explorer. At this moment Gholab approached and saluted respectfully, his bearded face immobile. "Well, what is it?" "Does the sahib wish to outspan here?" "Yes. Outspan and pitch camp for to-day. And, Gholab, have two graves dug at the top of this little rise." The Gurkha saluted and wheeled. Charlie caught an excited look from Jack, and then gave his attention to the General once more. "'Zahir has built a hut. Could get away but refuses. No cartridges in revolver. Z. is cutting up camel. Tough but nourishing. Have hopes. If I pull out will reward Z. for life.'