e drew near to
the desert her desire to be in it increased. There was some coarse
grass here. The palm trees grew less thickly. She heard more clearly the
barking of the Kabyle dogs, and knew that tents were not far off. Now,
between the trunks of the trees, she saw the twinkling of distant fires,
and the sound of running water fell on her ears, mingling with the
persistent noise of the insects, and the faint cries of the birds and
frogs. In front, where the road came out from the shadows of the last
trees, lay a vast dimness, not wholly unlike another starless sky,
stretched beneath the starry sky in which the moon had not yet risen.
She set her horse at a gallop and came into the desert, rushing through
the dark.

"Madame! Madame!"

Batouch's voice was calling her. She galloped faster, like one in
flight. Her horse's feet padded over sand almost as softly as a camel's.
The vast dimness was surely coming to meet her, to take her to itself
in the night. But suddenly Batouch rode furiously up beside her, his
burnous flying out behind him over his red saddle.

"Madame, we must not go further, we must keep near the oasis."

"Why?"

"It is not safe at night in the desert, and besides--"

His horse plunged and nearly rocketed against hers. She pulled in. His
company took away her desire to keep on.

"Besides?"

Leaning over his saddle peak he said, mysteriously:

"Besides, Madame, someone has been following us all the way from
Beni-Mora."

"Who?"

"A horseman. I have heard the beat of the hoofs on the hard road. Once
I stopped and turned, but I could see nothing, and then I could hear
nothing. He, too, had stopped. But when I rode on again soon I heard him
once more. Someone found out we were going and has come after us."

She looked back into the violet night without speaking. She heard no
sound of a horse, saw nothing but the dim track and the faint, shadowy
blackness where the palms began. Then she put her hand into the pocket
of her saddle and silently held up a tiny revolver.

"I know, but there might be more than one. I am not afraid, but if
anything happens to Madame no one will ever take me as a guide any
more."

She smiled for a moment, but the smile died away, and again she looked
into the night. She was not afraid physically, but she was conscious of
a certain uneasiness. The day had been long and troubled, and had left
its mark upon her. Restlessness had driven her forth into the darkness,
and