Slowly the sun sank towards the west, and their shadows began to trail along the path where their hearts would go.  It was cooler, and a desert breeze had sprung up, whispering over the rolling, stone-strewed plain.  The Emir at their head had called his lieutenant to his side, and the pair had peered about, their eyes shaded by their hands, looking for some landmark.  Then, with a satisfied grunt, the chief’s camel had seemed to break short off at its knees, and then at its hocks, going down in three curious, broken-jointed jerks until its stomach was stretched upon the ground.  As each succeeding camel reached the spot it lay down also, until they were all stretched in one long line.  The riders sprang off, and laid out the chopped tibbin upon cloths in front of them, for no well-bred camel will eat from the ground.  In their gentle eyes, their quiet, leisurely way of eating, and their condescending, mincing manner, there was something both feminine and genteel, as though a party of prim old maids had foregathered in the heart of the Libyan Desert.

There was no interference with the prisoners, either male or female, for how could they escape in the centre of that huge plain?  The Emir came towards them once, and stood combing out his blue-black beard with his fingers, and looking thoughtfully at them out of his dark, sinister eyes.  Miss Adams saw with a shudder that it was always upon Sadie that his gaze was fixed.  Then, seeing their distress, he gave an order, and a negro brought a water-skin, from which he gave each of them about half a tumblerful.  It was hot and muddy, and tasted of leather, but oh how delightful it was to their parched palates!  The Emir said a few abrupt words to the dragoman, and left.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mansoor began, with something of his old consequential manner; but a glare from the Colonel’s eyes struck the words from his lips, and he broke away into a long, whimpering excuse for his conduct.

“How could I do anything otherwise,” he wailed, “with the very knife at my throat?”

“You will have the very rope round your throat if we all see Egypt again,” growled Cochrane savagely.  “In the meantime—­”

“That’s all right, Colonel,” said Belmont.  “But for our own sakes we ought to know what the chief has said.”

“For my part I’ll have nothing to do with the blackguard.”

“I think that that is going too far.  We are bound to hear what he has to say.”  Cochrane shrugged his shoulders.  Privations had made him irritable, and he had to bite his lip to keep down a bitter answer.  He walked slowly away, with his straight-legged military stride.

“What did he say, then?” asked Belmont, looking at the dragoman with an eye which was as stern as the Colonel’s.

“He seems to be in a somewhat better manner than before.  He said that if he had more water you should have it, but that he is himself short in supply.  He said that to-morrow we shall come to the wells of Selimah, and everybody shall have plenty—­and the camels too.”