“Of the desert we have plenty also, but of shooting very little,” remarked the Captain, who talked Arabic well.  “Lie in your beds; we go to kill the beasts that harass the poor people who have treated us so kindly.”

“So be it,” said Shadrach with a smile that struck me as malicious.  “A lion made this”—­pointing to the dreadful threefold scar upon his face.  “May the God of Israel protect you from lions.  Remember, lords, that, the camels being fresh again, we march the day after to-morrow, should the weather hold, for if the wind blows on yonder sand-hills, no man may live among them;” and, putting up his hand, he studied the sky carefully from beneath its shadow, then, with a grunt, turned and vanished behind a hut.

All this while Sergeant Quick was engaged at a little distance in washing up the tin breakfast things, to all appearance quite unconscious of what was going on.  Orme called him, whereupon he advanced and stood to attention.  I remember thinking how curious he looked in those surroundings—­his tall, bony frame clothed in semi-military garments, his wooden face perfectly shaved, his iron-grey hair neatly parted and plastered down upon his head with pomade or some equivalent after the old private soldier fashion, and his sharp ferret-like grey eyes taking in everything.

“Are you coming with us, Sergeant?” asked Orme.

“Not unless ordered so to do, Captain.  I like a bit of hunting well enough, but, with all three officers away, some one should mount guard over the stores and transport, so I think the dog Pharaoh and I had best stop behind.”

“Perhaps you are right, Sergeant, only tie Pharaoh up, or he’ll follow me.  Well, what do you want to say?  Out with it.”

“Only this, Captain.  Although I have served in three campaigns among these here Arabians (to Quick, all African natives north of the Equator were Arabians, and all south of it, niggers), I can’t say I talk their lingo well.  Still, I made out that the fellow they call Cat don’t like this trip of yours, and, begging your pardon, Captain, whatever else Cat may be, he ain’t no fool.”

“Can’t help it, Sergeant.  For one thing, it would never do to give in to his fancies now.”

“That’s true, Captain.  When once it’s hoist, right or wrong, keep the flag flying, and no doubt you’ll come back safe and sound if you’re meant to.”

Then, having relieved his mind, the Sergeant ran his eye over our equipment to see that nothing had been forgotten, rapidly assured himself that the rifles were in working order, reported all well, and returned to his dishes.  Little did any of us guess under what circumstances we should next meet with him.

After leaving the town and marching for a mile or so along the oasis, accompanied by a mob of the Zeus armed with spears and bows, we were led by the bereaved chief, who also acted as tracker, out into the surrounding sands.  The desert here, although I remembered it well enough, was different from any that we had yet encountered upon this journey, being composed of huge and abrupt sand-hills, some of which were quite three hundred feet high, separated from each other by deep, wind-cut valleys.