t caravan was buried beneath the sands, but here it is the
first time, and it is a warning of evil. Something terrible is about to
happen. What shall we do--stop here and pray, though the sunset prayer
is past, or go on?"

"Go on, of course," ordered Max. "As for the music, it must be that the
wind brings it from Touggourt."

"It is not possible, Sidi," the camel-man, husband of Khadra, persisted.
"Besides, there is no great feastday at this time, not even a wedding
or a circumcision, or we should have heard before we started away that
it was to be. Such playing, if from the hands of man, would mean some
great event."

Even as he spoke the music grew louder and wilder. Max hurried the
caravan on as fast as it could go among the sand billows, fearing that
the Arabs' superstition might cause a stampede. With every stride of the
camels' long, four-jointed legs, the music swelled; and at the crest of
a higher dune than any they had climbed, Sanda, leaning out of her
bassourah, gave a cry.

"A caravan--oh! but a huge caravan like an army," she exclaimed, "or
like a troop of ghosts. What if--what if it should be Sir Knight just
starting away?"

"I think it is he," Max answered heavily. "I think it must be Stanton
getting off."

"We shall meet him. I can wish him good-bye and Godspeed! Soldier" (this
was the name she had given Max), "it does seem as if heaven must have
timed our coming and his going for this moment."

"Or the devil," Max amended bitterly in his heart. But aloud he said
nothing. He knew that if he had spoken Sanda would not have heard him
then.

"Let's hurry on," she begged, "and meet him--and surprise him. He can't
be angry. He must be glad for father's sake, if not for mine. Oh! come,
Soldier, come, or I will go alone!"

The man whose duty it was to guide her camel had dropped behind, as had
often happened before at her wish and Max's order, for the mehari was a
well-trained and gentle beast, knowing by instinct the right thing to
do. Now Sanda leaned far out and touched him on the neck. Squatting in
the way of camels brought up among dunes, he slid down the side of a big
golden billow, sending up a spray of sand as he descended. Below lay a
valley, where the blue dusk poured in its tide; and marching through the
azure flood a train of dark forms advanced rhythmically, as if moving to
the music which they had outstripped. It was a long procession of men
and camels bearing heavy loads, so long that