“Antinea ...  At last ...  Antinea.  But not cut in the rock ... the marks traced in ochre ... not ten years old, perhaps not five....  Oh!....”

He pressed his hands to his head.  Again he cried out: 

“It is a mystery.  A tragic mystery.”

I laughed teasingly.

“Come on, come on.  Don’t get excited over it.”

He took me by the arm and shook me.  I saw his eyes big with terror and astonishment.

“Are you mad?” he yelled in my face.

“Not so loud,” I replied with the same little laugh.

He looked at me again, and sank down, overcome, on a rock opposite me.  Eg-Anteouen was still smoking placidly at the mouth of the cave.  We could see the red circle of his pipe glowing in the darkness.

“Madman!  Madman!” repeated Morhange.  His voice seemed to stick in his throat.

Suddenly he bent over the brush which was giving its last darts of flame, high and clear.  He picked out a branch which had not yet caught.  I saw him examine it carefully, then throw it back in the fire with a loud laugh.

“Ha!  Ha!  That’s good, all right!”

He staggered toward Eg-Anteouen, pointing to the fire.

“It’s hemp.  Hasheesh, hasheesh.  Oh, that’s a good one, all right.”

“Yes, it’s a good one,” I repeated, bursting into laughter.

Eg-Anteouen quietly smiled approval.  The dying fire lit his inscrutable face and flickered in his terrible dark eyes.

A moment passed.  Suddenly Morhange seized the Targa’s arm.

“I want to smoke, too,” he said.  “Give me a pipe.”  The specter gave him one.

“What!  A European pipe?”

“A European pipe,” I repeated, feeling gayer and gayer.

“With an initial, ‘M.’  As if made on purpose.  M....  Captain Morhange.”

“Masson,” corrected Eg-Anteouen quietly.

“Captain Masson,” I repeated in concert with Morhange.

We laughed again.

“Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  Captain Masson....  Colonel Flatters....  The well of
Garama.  They killed him to take his pipe ... that pipe.  It was
Cegheir-ben-Cheikh who killed Captain Masson.”

“It was Cegheir-ben-Cheikh,” repeated the Targa with imperturbable calm.

“Captain Masson and Colonel Flatters had left the convoy to look for the well,” said Morhange, laughing.

“It was then that the Tuareg attacked them,” I finished, laughing as hard as I could.

“A Targa of Ahagga seized the bridle of Captain Masson’s horse,” said Morhange.

“Cegheir-ben-Cheikh had hold of Colonel Flatters’ bridle,” put in Eg-Anteouen.

“The Colonel puts his foot in the stirrup and receives a cut from Cegheir-ben-Cheikh’s saber,” I said.

“Captain Masson draws his revolver and fires on Cegheir-ben-Cheikh, shooting off three fingers of his left hand,” said Morhange.

“But,” finished Eg-Anteouen imperturbably, “but Cegheir-ben-Cheikh, with one blow of his saber, splits Captain Masson’s skull."..