Captured by the Arabs. Foster James H.

and there are numerous small settlements on the way to the Ahaggar Mountains. Can we get a train in the morning?”

      The Arab nodded.

      “There about three trains a day out,” he said. “I believe one leaves in morning, so we can get there easy.”

      “Fine!” exclaimed Mr. Lewis. “Then we’ll leave now and get packed and be here for you early in the morning.”

      Fekmah bowed.

      “And I will make the stolen map over again from memory, as near as can,” he said.

      They bade the Arab good-bye and left the hotel to get their belongings together. If they were to leave for the Sahara the next morning, a great deal of packing would have to be done.

      “Don’t suppose there’s any use trying to find the thieves, is there?” asked Joe, as they approached their hotel.

      Dr. Kirshner laughed unwillingly.

      “They are probably halfway to the Sahara by now,” he returned, although he knew this to be an exaggeration.

      When the explorers arrived at their rooms, Dr. Kirshner directed the preparations for the expedition, and the remainder of the day was spent in doing this. It seemed that the archæologist had forgotten his duties as a scientist and was thinking only of finding the hidden riches.

      “If we are fortunate enough to find our objective, we will be paid many times the cost of the expedition,” he said.

      “If those crooks don’t get ahead of us,” added Joe, with a grim smile.

      “They won’t – not if we can help it,” blurted out Bob, fumbling his automatic.

      At noon the adventurers stopped only a few minutes for a meal, so eager were they to finish the task of preparing for the expedition. They found it necessary to purchase much that they did not have, and the bazaars of Algiers were visited often for the unusual in the way of luxuries.

      At last the work was completed, and all sat down to rest after the strain. Bob and Joe had had the experience once before of helping to make preparations for an expedition and knew what was expected of them.

      “I wish we could take motion pictures of this city,” remarked Bob that evening. “But we’ve been instructed to wait till we start the journey in the Sahara.”

      The next morning the explorers were up early, and after a bountiful breakfast they made their way to Fekmah’s hotel.

      The Arab was expecting them and had finished making a second map. It was none too accurate, for he did it from memory, but it promised to be the only means between defeat and failure.

      “You may wonder why I bothered to make more map,” he said to his friends. “But it possible that I forget some of the landmarks when we are on way, and this will – ”

      “Come to the rescue,” interrupted Joe, smiling.

      “And also,” Fekmah went on, “you may have this if anything should happen me.”

      “Let’s hope nothing will,” said Bob.

      “And now,” began Dr. Kirshner, “I’m going down to the railroad station and find out if we can get a train this morning. I’ll be back in a short time.”

      “While he’s gone, suppose we go out,” suggested Joe to his chum. “There’s a lot we can see around here before we leave.”

      “All right,” Bob replied. “But we don’t want to stay too long. There might be a train out in an hour.”

      The youths decided to see the old section of the city, as they had heard from Dr. Kirshner that many points of interest were to be found there. It was but a few minutes’ walk to their objective, and they turned their eyes about.

      As they were passing a café, Bob motioned for his friend to look inside.

      A gray-haired, shriveled old man in torn clothing was strumming a guitar and walking from one end of the café to another, holding out a hand for money. But no one seemed inclined to give him any. Evidently this was a common occurrence, for the people paid little or no attention to the old beggar.

      “I’ve half a mind to give him a break,” started Bob, but Joe pulled him back.

      “If we want to see any of this town we’ll have to be at it,” Joe said, leading the way down the street.

      The narrow ways were lined with shops and bazaars, offering the shopper a wide variety of commodities.

      “But most of the things they sell you don’t want,” smiled Bob, glancing at a counter laden with coarse native food.

      The youths noticed that certain streets were devoted to the selling of certain products. For instance, one avenue was lined with shops displaying brassware.

      “It ought to be easy to find what you want,” grinned Joe. “Just walk down one street and you will have a large choice of the same thing.”

      The boys spent nearly a half-hour in the native quarter. Finally Bob suggested that they get back to the hotel, and his friend was also in favor.

      In a short time they were back in the hostelry and proceeded to go to their rooms. But they were scarcely at the doors when the sound of footsteps came to their ears. The next moment Dr. Kirshner came into view.

      “Hello,” greeted Bob, and then his jaw dropped.

      That something was wrong was evidenced by the frown that was on the archæologist’s face. His usual smile was absent.

      “There’s been a wreck,” he said in an anxious voice. “The train has been wrecked. I guess we can’t get to Wargla so soon after all.”

      CHAPTER IV

      Lured to Danger

      BOB and Joe gasped in astonishment.

      “The train wrecked!” muttered Bob and then started. “What caused it?”

      “I imagine you’re thinking the same as I,” the archæologist said quietly. “That those thieves were responsible for it to prevent us from getting to Wargla at once.”

      Joe’s face glowed with anger.

      “The dirty beggars!” he cried. “Was anyone hurt?”

      “No. It happened that no one was. But the locomotive was derailed and lodged in a ravine, and the work of getting it back on the track and repairing it won’t start any too soon in this country. It may be two or three days before order will be restored. It looks like those robbers have won out after all.”

      They walked on into the room, where they were met by the boys’ fathers and Fekmah.

      “Is there anything wrong?” asked Mr. Holton, as he noticed the sober faces of his friends.

      The situation was explained, and the men frowned. Fekmah especially was agitated.

      “May the black monsters of Tidihet feast on them!” he exclaimed, running his fingers through his white hair. “Allah will punish them – they will not go free!”

      “But that won’t help us any,” said Mr. Lewis dryly. “We’ve got to figure out some way to stop them, if it’s at all possible. The question is, what will it be?”

      “There’s no way of telegraphing,” said Dr. Kirshner, gazing thoughtfully at the floor. “If we had any idea where they went – that is, what route they took – we might overtake them on fast dromedaries. But the chances even then would be slight.”

      “We might – ” began Joe but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

      For a moment the adventurers looked at one another in surprise. Then Mr. Holton moved over and cautiously opened the door.

      The figure that stood in waiting was a tall, powerful Arab, with dark, piercing eyes that were none too pleasant to look at. He towered several inches above Mr. Holton, who was himself nearly six feet. Around the man’s shoulders and reaching nearly to the floor was a white