... Ah!
Listen!"
The Professor suddenly leaned forward. There was a queer change in his
face. From somewhere on the other side of that soft bank of violet
darkness came what seemed to be the clear, low cry of some animal.
"It is the Mongar cry of warning," he said hoarsely. "Something is going
to happen."
The whole encampment was suddenly in a state of activity. The Mongars ran
hither and thither, getting together their horses. The Chief, with Craig
by his side, was standing on the outskirts of the camp. The cry came
again, this time much louder and nearer. Soon they caught the muffled
trampling of a horse's hoofs galloping across the soft sands, then the
gleam of his white garments as he came suddenly into sight, in the edge of
the little circle of light thrown by the fire. They saw him leap from his
horse, run to the Chief, bend double in some form of salute, then commence
to talk rapidly. The Chief listened with no sign of emotion, but in a
moment or two he was giving rapid orders. Camels appeared from some
invisible place. Men, already on horseback, were galloping hither and
thither, collecting fire-arms and spare ammunition. Pack-horses were being
loaded, tents rolled up and every evidence of breaking camp.
"Seems to me there's a move on," Quest muttered, as they rose to their
feet. "I wonder if we are in it."
A moment or two later Craig approached them. He came with his shoulders
stooped and his eyes fixed upon the ground. He scarcely raised them as he
spoke.
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