Again and again they had perceived it during the night, but he had seemed quite rational since daybreak. They were shocked therefore at this sudden outbreak, and tried to calm him with soothing words. “Mad as a hatter,” he shouted. “Whatever do you think I saw?” “Don’t trouble about it, whatever it was,” said Mrs. Belmont, laying her hand soothingly upon his as the camels closed together. “It is no wonder that you are overdone. You have thought and worked for all of us so long. We shall halt presently, and a few hours’ sleep will quite restore you.” But the Colonel looked up again, and again he cried out in his agitation and surprise. “I never saw anything plainer in my life,” he groaned. “It is on the point of rock on our right front--poor old Stuart with my red cummerbund round his head just the same as we left him.” The ladies had followed the direction of the Colonel’s frightened gaze, and in an instant they were all as amazed as he. There was a black, bulging ridge like a bastion upon the right side of the terrible khor up which the camels were winding. At one point it rose into a small pinnacle. On this pinnacle stood a solitary, motionless figure, clad entirely in black, save for a brilliant dash of scarlet upon his head. There could not surely be two such short sturdy figures, or such large colourless faces, in the Libyan Desert. His shoulders were stooping forward, and he seemed to be staring intently down into the ravine. His pose and outline were like a caricature of the great Napoleon. “Can it possibly be he?” “It must be. It is!” cried the ladies. “You see he is looking towards us and waving his hand.” “Good Heavens! They’ll shoot him! Get down, you fool, or you’ll be shot!” roared the Colonel. But his dry throat would only emit a discordant croaking.