Carl had noted with a smile that the tourists as well as the guides were dressed in Berber outfits; wide skirts and the gaily striped burnus, with its big collar. He saw, too, that there were several French officers in uniform in the party. Like himself, everyone in the party was well armed. The guides, as well as some of the tourists, were provided with bandoliers of cartridges and carried rifles, while he noticed several of the others, not so visibly equipped, adjust cartridge belts and holsters. Taking the hint, he saw to it that his own automatic was fully loaded and his spare clips readily accessible. Such precautions were necessary, of course, to enable them to repulse the attacks of any wild animals that, through pangs of hunger, might become daring enough to attack the travelers. To be dreaded, too, were the attacks of the bandits roving the sand hills. The chieftains of the larger bandit tribes had already received the regular tribute from the famous sheik Tan Jajidani, who in turn would be doubly paid by the wealthy merchant who furnished the camel and ran the show. While these would be satisfied to let the caravan in peace, there might be others not so inclined. At last, with a great hullabaloo, the caravan was under way. At first Carl experienced much discomfort, but he found that by relaxing and allowing his body to sway with the jogging steps of the camel, it wasn’t as bad as he had expected. Far ahead of the caravan rode two guides, whose duty it was to lead the way, and at the same time keep a sharp watch for unfriendly visitors. Long before the main body of travelers would reach a village or camp, the inhabitants would swarm out to meet them, offering fruit or drink for sale, while at friendly camps water was offered to everyone. To refuse to drink was considered an unfriendly act, and the guides cautioned all to be sure to partake of the hospitality. Otherwise the journey that day was uneventful. There was nothing, outside of a few tiny camps or villages, to greet the eye but sand, desert sand. Tents were pitched that night under the desert stars. The campfire gave forth a grateful warmth, for the night air was bitter cold. Carl was sorry that he was not outfitted with a woolen burnus, but knowing he would have to be up at daybreak, was soon comfortable between his blankets. With the first rays of the sun peeping over the horizon, the caravan broke camp. Carl was amazed at the speed with which the camels were saddled or loaded, the tents folded away, and the caravan gotten on its way, accompanied by the singing of the guides and the jingle of the lead-camel’s bells. Thinking of Sana, he recalled of the manuscript he had taken with him. He would have the whole day to himself, with nothing to do, so he took it from his pocket to read. The manuscript, written in a careful hand, was entitled, “The Conception of Our Universe.” * * * * *