“The tribe of Kel-Tahat.”

“The Kel-Tahats are the serfs of the tribe of Kel-Rhela, the great nobles of Hoggar?”

“Yes,” he answered, casting a side glance in my direction.  It seemed that such precise questions on the affairs of Ahygar were not to his liking.

“The Kel-Tahats, if I am not mistaken, are established on the southwest flank of Atakor.[5] What were you doing, so far from your home territory when we saved your life?”

[Footnote 5:  Another name, in the Temahaq language, for Ahaggar. (Note by M. Leroux.)]

“I was going, by way of Tit, to In-Salah,” he said.

“What were you going to do at In-Salah?”

He was about to reply.  But suddenly we saw him tremble.  His eyes were fixed on a point of the cavern.  We looked to see what it was.  He had just seen the rock inscription which had so delighted Morhange an hour before.

“Do you know that?” Morhange asked him with keen curiosity.

The Targa did not speak a word but his eyes had a strange light.

“Do you know that?” insisted Morhange.

And he added: 

“Antinea?”

“Antinea,” repeated the man.

And he was silent.

“Why don’t you answer the Captain?” I called out, with a strange feeling of rage sweeping over me.

The Targui looked at me.  I thought that he was going to speak.  But his eyes became suddenly hard.  Under the lustrous veil I saw his features stiffening.

Morhange and I turned around.

On the threshold of the cavern, breathless, discomfited, harassed by an hour of vain pursuit, Bou-Djema had returned to us.

VI

THE DISASTER OF THE LETTUCE

As Eg-Anteouen and Bou-Djema came face to face, I fancied that both the Targa and the Chaamba gave a sudden start which each immediately repressed.  It was nothing more than a fleeting impression.  Nevertheless, it was enough to make me resolve that as soon as I was alone with our guide, I would question him closely concerning our new companion.

The beginning of the day had been wearisome enough.  We decided, therefore, to spend the rest of it there, and even to pass the night in the cave, waiting till the flood had completely subsided.

In the morning, when I was marking our day’s march upon the map, Morhange came toward me.  I noticed that his manner was somewhat restrained.

“In three days, we shall be at Shikh-Salah,” I said to him.  “Perhaps by the evening of the second day, badly as the camels go.”

“Perhaps we shall separate before then,” he muttered.

“How so?”

“You see, I have changed my itinerary a little.  I have given up the idea of going straight to Timissao.  First I should like to make a little excursion into the interior of the Ahaggar range.”

I frowned: 

“What is this new idea?”