Then it takes longer for he goes with the party to get meat." Hillyard stared at the Arab in amazement.

He was a lean slip of a man, almost as black as a negro, with his hair running back above the temples, and legs like walking-sticks.

He stood wreathed in smiles and nodding confirmation of Hamet's words.

But to Hillyard, with the emotions of the dark hour just past still shivering about him, he seemed something out of nature.

Hillyard leaned from his donkey and took the carbine from the postman's hand.