For several seconds we stood there silent, our eyes fixed on the

southern route by which one reaches Temassinin, Eguéré and Ahaggar.

A rap on the dining-room door behind us made us start.

"Come in," said André de Saint-Avit in a voice which had become

suddenly hard.

The Quartermaster, Chatelain, stood before us.

"What do you want of me at this hour?" Saint-Avit asked brusquely.

The non-com stood at attention.

"Excuse me, Captain. But a native was discovered near the post, last

night, by the patrol. He was not trying to hide. As soon as he had

been brought here, he asked to be led before the commanding officer.

It was midnight and I didn't want to disturb you."

"Who is this native?"

"A Targa, Captain."

"A Targa? Go get him."

Chatelain stepped aside. Escorted by one of our native soldiers, the

man stood behind him.

They came out on the terrace.

The new arrival, six feet tall, was indeed a Targa. The light of dawn

fell upon his blue-black cotton robes. One could see his great dark

eyes flashing.

When he was opposite my companion, I saw a tremor, immediately

suppressed, run through both men.

They looked at each other for an instant in silence.

Then, bowing, and in a very calm voice, the Targa spoke: "Peace be with you, Lieutenant de Saint-Avit."

In the same calm voice, André answered him: "Peace be with you, Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh."



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