hardly a road, far
exceeded in roughness the desert track Stephen had wondered at on the
way from Msila to Bou-Saada; but Lady MacGregor had the courage, he told
her, of a Joan of Arc.

They bumped steadily along, through the heat of the day, protected from
the blazing sun by the raised hood, but they were thankful when, after
the dinner-halt, darkness began to fall. Talking over ways and means,
they decided not to drive into Touggourt, where an automobile would be a
conspicuous object since few motors risked springs and tyres by coming
so far into the desert. The chauffeur should be sent into the town while
the passengers sat in the car a mile away.

Eventually Paul was instructed to demand oil for his small lamps, by way
of an excuse for having tramped into town. He was to find out what had
become of the two men who must have arrived about an hour before, in a
carriage.

While the chauffeur was gone, Lady MacGregor played Patience and
insisted on teaching Stephen and Nevill two new games. She said that it
would be good discipline for their souls; and so perhaps it was. But
Stephen never ceased calculating how long Paul ought to be away. Twenty
minutes to walk a mile--or thirty minutes in desert sand; forty minutes
to make inquiries; surely it needn't take longer! And thirty minutes
back. But an hour and a half dragged on, before there was any sign of
the absentee; then at last, Stephen's eye, roving wistfully from the
cards, saw a moving spark at about the right height above the ground to
be a cigarette.

A few yards away from the car, the spark vanished decorously, and Paul
was recognizable, in the light of the inside electric lamp, the only
illumination they allowed themselves, lest the stranded car prove
attractive to neighbouring nomads.

The French officer was at the hotel for the night; the Arab was dining
with him, but instead of resting, would go on with his horse and a Negro
servant who, it seemed, had been waiting for several days, since their
master had passed through Touggourt on the way to Algiers.

"Then he didn't come from El Aghouat," said Nevill. "Where is he going?
Did you find out that?"

"Not for certain. But an Arab servant who talks French, says he believes
they're bound for a place called Oued Tolga," Paul replied, delighted
with the confidence reposed in him, and with the whole adventure.

"That means three days in the dunes for us!" said Nevill. "Aunt
Charlotte, you can practice Pati