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“Well, Hassan?” he questioned. “Any news?”

The man’s eyes gleamed with a certain triumph.

“There is news, effendi. The man the effendi seeks is no longer chief of the Zambas. They have been swallowed up by the Wandis.”

Herne groaned. It was only what he had expected, but the memory of the boy’s face with its eager eyes was upon him. The pity of it! The vast, irretrievable waste!

“Then he is dead?” he said.

The Arab spread out his hands.

“Allah knows. But the Wandis do not always slay their prisoners, effendi. The old and the useless ones they burn, but the strong ones they save alive. It may be that he lives.”

“As a slave!” Herne said.

“It is possible, effendi.” The Arab considered a moment. Then, “The road to the country of the Wandis is no journey for effendis,” he said. “The path is hard to find, and there is no water. Also, the bush is thick, and there are many savages. But beyond all are the mountains where the Wandis dwell. It is possible that the chief of the Zambas has been carried to their City of Stones. It is a wonderful place, effendi. But the way thither, especially now, even for an Arab—-“

“I am going myself,” Herne said.

“The effendi will die!”

Herne shrugged his shoulders.

“Be it so! I am going!”

“But not alone, effendi.” A speculative gleam shone in the Arab’s wary eyes. He was the only available guide, and he knew it. The Englishman was mad, of course, but he was willing to humour him–for a consideration.

Herne saw the gleam, and his grim face relaxed.

“Name your price, Hassan!” he said. “If it doesn’t suit me–I go alone.”

Hassan smiled widely. Certainly the Englishman was mad, but he had a sporting fancy for mad Englishmen, a fancy that kept his pouch well filled. He had not the smallest intention of letting this one out of his sight.

“We will go together, effendi,” he said. “The price shall not be named between us until we return in peace. But the effendi will need a disguise. The Wandis have no love for the English.”

“Then I will go as your brother,” said Herne.

The Arab bowed low.

“As traders in spice,” he said, “we might, by the goodness of Allah, pass through to the Great Desert. But we could not go with a large caravan, effendi, and we should take our lives in our hands.”

“Even so,” said the Englishman imperturbably. “Let us waste no time!”

It had been his attitude throughout, and it had had its effect upon the men who had travelled with him. They had come to look upon him with reverence, this mad Englishman, who was thus calmly preparing to risk his life for a man whose bones had probably whitened in the desert years before. By sheer, indomitable strength of purpose Herne was accomplishing inch by inch the task that he had set himself.

A few days more found him traversing the wide, scrub-grown plateau that stretched to the mountains where the Wandis had their dwelling-place. The journey was a bitter one, the heat intense, the difficulties of the way sometimes wellnigh insurmountable. They carried water with them, but the need for economy was great, and Herne was continually possessed by a consuming thirst that he never dared to satisfy.

The party consisted of himself, Hassan, an Arab lad, and five natives. The rest of his following he had left on the edge of civilization, encamped in the last oasis between the desert and the scrub, with orders to await his return. If, as the Arab had suggested, he succeeded in pushing through to the farther desert, he would return by a more southerly route, giving Wanda as wide a berth as possible.

Thus ran his plans as, day after day, he pressed farther into the heart of the unknown country that the British had abandoned in despair over three years before. They found it deserted, in some parts almost impenetrable, so dense was the growth of bush in all directions. And yet there were times when it seemed to Herne that the sense of emptiness was but a superficial impression, as if unseen eyes watched them on that journey of endless monotony, as if the very camels knew of a lurking espionage, and sneered at their riders’ ignorance.