70 THE SECRET OF SAHARA: KUFARA 



of wood at fifty yards. My neat revolvers caused interest 

 and amusement when produced from under my huge 

 hezaam, but they were scarcely appropriate. Mohammed 

 won the match and was loudly cheered. We had begun 

 to feel some affection for this tall, lean, hard-featured 

 Beduin with his falcon's eyes and rare smile. We felt 

 that he might prove a loyal ally, whereas the plump 

 Yusuf, with his round face and sleepy, narrow eyes, loose 

 lips and glib tongue, only thought of getting home as 

 soon as possible. 



Luckily for us the flight from Jedabia had been 

 interpreted to mean a political mission, and almost before 

 we were out of sight of the town the desert wireless 

 proclaimed that we travelled on the business of Sidi Idris. 

 After the first day it was painfully obvious to us that 

 only some extraordinary intervention of fate would 

 induce any one of our escort to brave the dangers of the 

 route from Jedabia to Kufara, so we encouraged the 

 belief in our mission by all means in our power. The 

 Arab dearly loves a secret. Mystery is the breath of 

 his nostrils. Our escape at midnight, the orders given 

 to Yusuf and Mohammed at the last moment, our 

 frantic desire for speed, the spy who brought a letter 

 from Jedabia in twenty-four hours, the large caravan 

 munificently fitted out by the lavish generosity of Sayed 

 Rida, all spoke to him of an important secret, to be 

 guarded with their lives and ours. We had ceased to 

 be the Sayed's travelling guests whose mad whim to visit 

 the sacred city should be discouraged at all costs. We 

 were rapidly becoming mysterious messengers bearing 

 sacred orders from their lord! Soon we should all 

 grumble together at the task that drove us forth in 

 winter on such a journey, but we should be suffering 

 for the work of Sidi Idris es-Senussi, and therefore for 

 the will of Allah! 



