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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Black Box"

"Listen to
those fellows, how they chatter!"
The camel drivers and guides were sitting together in a little group, some
distance away. They had finished their supper and were chattering together
now, swaying back and forth, two of them at least in a state of wild
excitement.
"Whatever can they be talking about?" Laura asked. "They sound as though
they were going to fight every second."
The Professor smiled.
"The last one was talking about the beauty of his fat lady friend," he
remarked drily. "Just before, they were discussing whether they would be
given any backsheesh in addition to their pay. We are quite off the
ordinary routes here, and these fellows aren't much used to Europeans."
Laura rose to her feet.
"I'm going to get a drink," she announced.
The dragoman, who had been hovering around, bowed gravely and pointed
towards the waterbottles. Lenora also rose.
"I'm coming too," she decided. "It seems a sin to think of going to sleep,
though. The whole place is like a great silent sea. I suppose this isn't a
dream, is it, Laura?"
"There's no dream about my thirst, any way," Laura declared.
She took the horn cup from the dragoman.
"Have some yourself, if you want to, Hassan," she invited.
Hassan bowed gravely, filled a cup and drank it off. He stood for a moment
perfectly still, as though something were coming over him which he failed
to understand. Then his lips parted, his eyes for a moment seemed to shoot
from out of his dusky skin.


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