He stared incredulously at the
spot where the camels had been tethered. There were no camels, no drivers,
no Arabs. There was not a soul nor an object in sight except the stark
body of Hassan, which they had dragged half out of sight behind a slight
knoll. High up in the sky above were two little black specks, wheeling
lower and lower. Quest shivered as he suddenly realised that for the first
time in his life he was looking upon the winged ghouls of the desert.
Lower and lower they came. He turned away with a shiver.
The Professor was still sleeping when Quest re-entered the tent. He woke
him up and beckoned him to come outside.
"Dear me!" the former exclaimed genially, as he adjusted his glasses, "I
am not sure that my toilet--however, the young ladies, I imagine, are not
yet astir. You did well to call me, Quest. This is the rose dawn of Egypt.
I have watched it from solitudes such as you have never dreamed of. After
all, we are here scarcely past the outskirts of civilisation."
"You'll find we are far enough!" Quest remarked grimly. "What do you make
of this, Professor?"
He pointed to the little sandy knoll with its sparse covering of grass,
deserted--with scarcely a sign, even, that it had been the resting place
of the caravan. The Professor gave vent to a little exclamation.
"Our guides!" he demanded. "And the camels! What has become of them?"
"I woke you up to ask you that question?" Quest replied, "but I guess it's
pretty obvious.
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