So far as Third
Brother knew, the cat was to be delivered to him at the hotel that
night. On the other hand, Youssef's men had searched them in front of
the museum, and later Rick had handed Youssef a kitten. The thief must
have found out that the kitten was a fake.

Scotty picked up the room telephone and called the project. In a moment
he had Winston on the line. "Rick's gone," he said tersely. "Hassan,
too. The car was brought to the hotel by a stranger. Rick left the cat
in the car, behind the rear cushion. He wouldn't do that unless he knew
he was going to be searched. My guess is that Youssef snatched them. I
think it's time we got the police in on this!"

CHAPTER XVI

The Howling Jackals

Tourists travel thousands of miles to see the full moon rise over the
Sahara Desert. It is a sight of lonely, majestic grandeur. The rolling
contours of sand and rock assume weird, lovely patterns, and even the
desert wind is hushed. It is at such times, men say, that the spirits of
the ancient Egyptian gods, Amon-Re, Horus, Thoth, Isis, Osiris, Bubaste,
and the others again walk on earth.

Rick Brant could appreciate the scene, but he was in no mood for it. He
clutched his coat around him more tightly to keep out the penetrating
desert chill. From behind a nearby dune he heard the rising, yapping
howl of a jackal, one of earth's loneliest sounds.

Anubis, Egyptian god of death, had the head of a jackal, he recalled. He
tried to wet his lips. He was terribly thirsty.

Hassan had been stretched out on the sand. He rose to a sitting position
and gestured toward the dune that shielded the jackal from sight. "He
noisy."

Rick nodded. "Do jackals always bark at night?"

"Always. It is their kismet."

Their fate, Rick thought. Born to bark at the empty desert. He wondered
if the little doglike animals enjoyed it. "Do they always bark at
nothing?"

"No. Sometimes they bark at people. Like now. He bark at us."

Rick grinned feebly. "He doesn't like us using his desert. Well, I'd be
happy to give it back to him."

The dragoman nodded. "Also. You know, when our people want to say time
go by ... how you say? ... life goes on and no man can stop time or make
much change in things, they speak of the jackal."

Rick looked at the guide with interest. He had been glad all through the
long hours of Hassan's presence. The Sudanese had turned out to be an
entertaining and thought-provoking companion. "Is it a saying of s