As I spoke I looked about for Eg-Anteouen, whom I had seen in conversation with Morhange the previous evening and several minutes before.  He was quietly mending one of his sandals with a waxed thread supplied by Bou-Djema.  He did not raise his head.

“It is simply,” explained Morhange, less and less at his ease, “that this man tells me there are similar inscriptions in several caverns in western Ahaggar.  These caves are near the road that he has to take returning home.  He must pass by Tit.  Now, from Tit, by way of Silet, is hardly two hundred kilometers.  It is a quasi-classic route[6] as short again as the one that I shall have to take alone, after I leave you, from Shikh-Salah to Timissao.  That is in part, you see, the reason which has made me decide to....”

[Footnote 6:  The route and the stages from Tit to Timissao were actually plotted out, as early as 1888, by Captain Bissuel. Les Tuarge de l’Ouest, itineraries 1 and 10. (Note by M. Leroux.)]

“In part?  In very small part,” I replied.  “But is your mind absolutely made up?”

“It is,” he answered me.

“When do you expect to leave me?”

“To-day.  The road which Eg-Anteouen proposes to take into Ahaggar crosses this one about four leagues from here.  I have a favor to ask of you in this connection.”

“Please tell me.”

“It is to let me take one of the two baggage camels, since my Targa has lost his.”

“The camel which carries your baggage belongs to you as much as does your own mehari,” I answered coldly.

We stood there several minutes without speaking.  Morhange maintained an uneasy silence; I was examining my map.  All over it in greater or less degree, but particularly towards the south, the unexplored portions of Ahaggar stood out as far too numerous white patches in the tan area of supposed mountains.

I finally said: 

“You give me your word that when you have seen these famous grottos, you will make straight for Timissao by Tit and Silet?”

He looked at me uncomprehendingly.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because, if you promise me that,—­provided, of course, that my company is not unwelcome to you—­I will go with you.  Either way, I shall have two hundred kilometers to go.  I shall strike for Shikh-Salah from the south, instead of from the west—­that is the only difference.”

Morhange looked at me with emotion.

“Why do you do this?” he murmured.

“My dear fellow,” I said (it was the first time that I had addressed Morhange in this familiar way), “my dear fellow, I have a sense which becomes marvellously acute in the desert, the sense of danger.  I gave you a slight proof of it yesterday morning, at the coming of the storm.  With all your knowledge of rock inscriptions, you seem to me to have no very exact idea of what kind of place Ahaggar is, nor what may be in store for you there.  On that account, I should be just as well pleased not to let you run sure risks alone.”