Kyle’s body, in its mummy-like swathings of blankets, ceased its descent with a sudden shock that jarred him from head to heels.

It was several moments before his head cleared and he could realize what had happened. Then he remembered the gaping cracks in the earth, some of them several feet wide that seamed the surface of the ground over which they had been traveling.

When he had lain down in his blanket, he must have failed to notice, in the hurry and confusion, that he was near the edge of one of these yawning holes. In his attempt to find relief from the load of sand above him, he had slipped over the edge.

Luckily he had gone down feet foremost. Had he fallen headfirst, death would have been inevitable.

But the little feeling of exultation that came to him from this circumstance quickly vanished. For though death had been deferred, it seemed only for a brief time. The weight of his body had wedged his feet tightly in the narrowing sides of the hole, and he felt as though they were clamped in an iron vise.

He could see nothing. He had succeeded in wrenching his head from the close folds of the blanket, and, opening his smarting eyes, he tried to look about him. But he was forced quickly to wrap the blanket around his head again to shelter it from the sand that was coming down into the cavity in a cloud.

His heart sank as he realized how fast the cavity was filling. Soon the sand was up to his knees and was rapidly climbing higher. He was trapped! He was being buried alive!

He was too young to die. Everything in him clamored for life. The blood ran strongly through his veins. He was only standing on the threshold of life, life that had stretched out before him with all its dreams, its hopes, its wonderful possibilities—the life of which he seemed about to be deprived.

Now the sand had reached his waist!

The sand reached his throat!

His lungs, compressed by the weight of sand, seemed to be bursting. His breath came in long labored gasps. Sparks of fire danced before his eyes. He prayed. He felt his senses going.

What was that? A shout? His name?

“Kyle! Kyle!” came in anguished tones from above, echoed by other cries.

By a tremendous effort he steadied his swimming brain. Something touched him, groped for him.

Before the sand had reached his waist, he had freed his arms from the blanket and held them above his head. Now he reached out his hands and grasped a pole. It had a knob at the end that offered a hold, and he gripped it as a drowning man grips a rope thrown to him.

“Hold tight!” came the stentorian voice of the captain. “Keep your head, my boy. We’ll get you out.”

Eager hands at the other end of the pole pulled strongly and steadily, and Kyle held on with the clutch of desperation, though he felt as though his arms were being wrenched from their sockets. Little by little, but surely, he felt himself being drawn up. At last he was within reach of his rescuers. Then two powerful arms came down and caught his, and he was pulled out and laid on the solid earth.

That was all he remembered for the next half hour. Then he came to consciousness to find himself being rubbed and chafed by his uncles, whose eyes were wet with tears of which they were not ashamed, while Brick stood by, frankly weeping, and even the impassive Arabs showing signs of being deeply moved.

Kyle tried to speak, but his voice sounded strangely far away and incoherent, and his uncle Frank stopped him.

“Not now, my dear boy,” he said gently. “Plenty of time for talk later. The only thing that matters now is that you are alive. Just lie still for a time, and when you are a little stronger you can tell us all about it.”

Kyle was so exhausted that he needed little urging. He lay quietly for a few moments, noting little except that the storm had passed and rejoicing that he was still in the land of the living. Then he dropped off into a heavy sleep, from which he woke many hours later, quite restored to his usual self.

It was then that he heard the full story of the happenings following his disappearance.

Some little time after he had fallen, the worst fury of the storm had abated, and Brick, who had been lying near him, reached out his arm and to his surprise met only vacancy where Kyle had been. Even then he was only slightly startled, for he thought that Kyle must have shifted to some spot a little way off to get in a more comfortable position. But when he had called to him and received no answer he had become genuinely alarmed, and had shouted until the captain and the professor came hurrying to him.

A frantic search had ensued, a search which had ended in the discovery of the deep crevasse near the spot where Kyle and Teddy had lain. The inference to be drawn was obvious, and Kyle’s uncles had fought their way to the cars and unearthed one of the tent poles with which they had rushed to the hole, their hearts torn with apprehension lest they were too late.

“It was a mighty close call, sure enough,” said Kyle. “I had about given myself up for lost. Another minute and I wouldn’t have had sense enough to grab the pole.”

“Even then we would have got you,” said the captain, with grim determination. “We would have formed a human chain and one of us would have been let down headfirst to pull you out. Thank God that you are alive and safe!”

While Kyle had been sleeping, Alam and Abdullah had gone with vessels to the well that they had so nearly reached before the storm had come upon them, and had returned with a supply of water to last overnight.

The experience had a sobering effect upon them all. It showed them by what a frail tenure life was held in the desert. It brought home to them, as never before, the risks they had set out to encounter. At no time until they should return to civilization would there be anything but a step between them and death.

There was no thought of going any farther that night. They were all in too sore and smarting a condition after the battle with the storm to think of doing anything else but rest. In addition, the cars were so covered with sand that it would take hours to release them and get them in shape for the continuation of the journey.

How bad that condition was they did not realize until the next day dawned. It took hours of hard work before the cars were freed. And that was not all, for all articles and packages in them were so permeated with sand that they had to be gone over with care. Sand had also got into the bearings of the machinery to such an extent that the engines had to be taken apart and rubbed smooth and thoroughly oiled if serious damage was to be averted.

So, instead of one, it was two full days that were required before they were in shape to start. The captain chafed at the delay, for every day they lost diminished by so much their supplies for the journey, which had been very carefully calculated.

Teddy, too, worried over the delay, for fear of what might be happening to his father. A day lost might mean the difference between life and death.

Kyle’s special cause of worry he kept to himself. It concerned itself with the matter of the emeralds. He had never been free from uneasiness since the unlucky day when that secret had slipped out, perhaps to be overheard by rascals who would seek to profit by it.

As long as they could keep going on their intended schedule, there was no danger of their being overtaken. But many more such delays might mean being overhauled by a robber gang, if a plan of robbery were in the wind.

So he worried like a Trojan at the machinery, together with his uncles, and breathed a sigh of immense relief when at last the task was finished.

He had said to himself that they would make unusual speed on their next lap in order to atone for the delay. But to his disappointment he found that the going was much more difficult than it had been up to this time.

The hard, good road gave place to soft and shifting sand, as they advanced toward Fort Hassi Inifel. In the vicinity of this oasis there were great sand dunes or hillocks, rising in some cases to a height of two or three hundred feet. Some of these they had to surmount, with a strain on their engines and a lessening of speed. Others they had to go around, sometimes traveling two miles to make one as the crow flies.

Then, too, it became increasingly difficult to be sure that they were on the right track. The great storm of a few days before had so changed the form and character of these dunes that old landmarks had in some cases been obliterated, and Alam often had to halt the expedition while he made sure of the right path to follow. When he finally made up his mind, his judgment always proved right, but the net result was that they were “making haste slowly.”

At Hassi Inifel, which had formerly been a French military station, they found an old block house with two comfortable rooms, where they got a good night’s rest and also enjoyed the luxury of a bath.

They did not tarry there, however, and the next day were off at dawn. Now, again, the country began to change. From an expanse of sandy plains, with their bluish and gilded dunes, they came into a desolate and gloomy region, strewn with sharp rocks and abounding in deep ravines.

They were in the Tademait Plateau, the black rock region, so called from the peculiar stones that covered the road and that looked as though they had received a coat of black varnish.

There was a certain relief in getting away from the flat surface and finding themselves in a hilly country. But at the same time it required much more vigilance in driving. The way in places was precipitous, with deep chasms on both sides. And, looking over the edges of those chasms, they could see the bones of camels that had lost their footing and fallen to sure death below. The sight was one calculated to insure great care in driving, and there was very little conversation going on when the cars were skirting one of those perilous places, as the driver had to keep his eyes glued on the path ahead of him.

It was hard work going up some of these steep ascents, but it was still harder going down, and much more dangerous. Even when the power was shut off and the brakes applied, the mere momentum of the cars on some of the steep grades carried them along at a pace far too rapid for the peace of mind of the travelers. Often, too, the path was strewn with boulders, and only the most skillful maneuvering could avoid them.

It was on the second day out from Hassi Inifel that the car which Kyle was driving reached the top of an especially precipitous descent. The captain’s car had already started down the slope and was merely creeping along about three hundred feet ahead.

Kyle started down, shutting off his power and applying the brakes. To his consternation, the car commenced to gather speed. He pressed again upon the brake, but the car kept going still faster. On and on it went, coasting down the hill by sheer force of gravity.

Kyle looked at Brick, his face as white as chalk.

“The brakes don’t work!” he gasped, in dire dismay.

[Chapter 13 Maze: Help Kyle Escape]