What would become of Mrs.
Weldon and her companions, if they did not find a shelter?
Dick Sand stopped a moment near old Tom.
"What must be done ?" said he.
"Continue our march, Mr.Dick," replied Tom.

"We cannot remain on this plain, that the rain is going to transform into a marsh!" "No, Tom, no! But a shelter! Where?
What?
If it were only a hut--" Dick Sand had suddenly broken off his sentence.

A more vivid flash of lightning had just illuminated the whole plain.
"What have I seen there, a quarter of a mile off ?" exclaimed Dick Sand.
"Yes, I also, I have seen--" replied old Tom, shaking his head.
"A camp, is it not ?" "Yes, Mr.Dick, it must be a camp, but a camp of natives!" A new flash enabled them to observe this camp more closely.

It occupied a part of the immense plain.
There, in fact, rose a hundred conical tents, symmetrically arranged, and measuring from twelve to fifteen feet in height.

Not a soldier showed himself, however.