Atlantida

Suddenly Eg-Anteouen leapt to his feet. He had just seen the poor

embossed bowl which the Arab had held an instant before between his

knees, and which now lay overturned upon the ground.

He picked it up, looked quickly at one after another of the leaves of

lettuce remaining in it, and then gave a hoarse exclamation.

"So," said Morhange, "it's his turn now; he is going to go mad."

Watching Eg-Anteouen closely, I saw him hasten without a word to the

rock where our dinner was set, a second later, he was again beside us,

holding out the bowl of lettuce which he had not yet touched.

Then he took a thick, long, pale green leaf from Bou-Djema's bowl and

held it beside another leaf he had just taken from our bowl.

"Afahlehle," was all he said.

I shuddered, and so did Morhange. It was the afahlehla, the

falestez, of the Arabs of the Sahara, the terrible plant which had

killed a part of the Flatters mission more quickly and surely than

Tuareg arms.

Eg-Anteouen stood up. His tall silhouette was outlined blackly against

the sky which suddenly had turned pale lilac. He was watching us.

We bent again over the unfortunate guide.

"Afahlehle," the Targa repeated, and shook his head.

* * * * *

Bou-Djema died in the middle of the night without having regained

consciousness.