Quest held
Lenora to him. It seemed as though their last second had come. Suddenly
Craig, who had been a little in the rear, galloped, shouting, into the
line of fire.
"Stop!" he ordered. "Chief, these people are my friends. Chief, the word!"
The Chief raised his arm promptly. The men lowered their rifles, and Craig
galloped back to his host's side. The Chief listened to him, nodding
gravely. Presently he rode up to the little party. He saluted the
Professor and talked to him in his own language. The Professor turned to
the others.
"The Chief apologises for not recognising me," he announced. "It seems
that Craig had told him that he had come to the desert for shelter, and he
imagined at once, when he gave the order for the attack upon us, that we
were his enemies. He says that we are welcome to go with him to his
encampment."
Quest stood for a moment irresolute.
"Seems to me we're in a pretty fix," he muttered. "We've got to owe our
lives to that fellow Craig, anyway, and how shall we be able to get him
away from them, goodness only knows."
"That is for later," the Professor said gravely. "At present I think we
cannot do better than accept the hospitality of the Chief. Even now the
Chief is suspicious. I heard him ask Craig why, if these were his friends,
he did not greet them."
Craig turned slowly towards them. It was a strange meeting. His face was
thin and worn, there were hollows in his cheeks, a dull light in his
sunken eyes. He had the look of the hunted animal.
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