"It is curious," said Morhange, "to see how our expedition, uneventful
since we left Ouargla, is now becoming exciting."
He said this after kneeling for a moment in prayer before the
painfully dug grave in which we had lain the guide.
I do not believe in God. But if anything can influence whatever powers
there may be, whether of good or of evil, of light or of darkness, it
is the prayer of such a man.
For two days we picked our way through a gigantic chaos of black rock
in what might have been the country of the moon, so barren was it. No
sound but that of stones rolling under the feet of the camels and
striking like gunshots at the foot of the precipices.
A strange march indeed. For the first few hours, I tried to pick out,
by compass, the route we were following. But my calculations were soon
upset; doubtless a mistake due to the swaying motion of the camel. I
put the compass back in one of my saddle-bags. From that time on,
Eg-Anteouen was our master. We could only trust ourselves to him.
He went first; Morhange followed him, and I brought up the rear. We
passed at every step most curious specimens of volcanic rock. But I
did not examine them. I was no longer interested in such things.
Another kind of curiosity had taken possession of me. I had come to
share Morhange's madness. If my companion had said to me: "We are
doing a very rash thing. Let us go back to the known trails," I should
have replied, "You are free to do as you please. But I am going on."
Toward evening of the second day, we found ourselves at the foot of a
black mountain whose jagged ramparts towered in profile seven thousand
feet above our heads. It was an enormous shadowy fortress, like the
outline of a feudal stronghold silhouetted with incredible sharpness
against the orange sky.
There was a well, with several trees, the first we had seen since
cutting into Ahaggar.
A group of men were standing about it. Their camels, tethered close
by, were cropping a mouthful here and there.
At seeing us, the men drew together, alert, on the defensive.
Eg-Anteouen turned to us and said: "Eggali Tuareg."
We went toward them.
They were handsome men, those Eggali, the largest Tuareg whom I ever
have seen. With unexpected swiftness they drew aside from the well,
leaving it to us. Eg-Anteouen spoke a few words to them. They looked
at Morhange and me with a curiosity bordering on fear, but at any
rate, with respect.