That vain straining of the eyes upon
the horizon, at any rate, was spared to them. They slept in a fashion, but
soon after dawn they were on their feet again. They were silent now, for
their tongues were swollen and talk had become painful. Their walk had
become a shamble, but there was one expression in their haggard faces
common to all of them--the brave, dogged desire to struggle on to the
last. Suddenly Quest, who had gone a little out of his way to mount a low
ridge of sand-hills, waved his arm furiously. He was holding his
field-glasses to his eyes. It was wonderful how that ray of hope
transformed them. They hurried to where he was. He passed the glasses to
the Professor.
"A caravan!" he exclaimed. "I can see the camels, and horses!"
The Professor almost snatched the glasses.
"It is quite true," he agreed. "It is a caravan crossing at right angles
to our direction. Come! They will see us before long."
Lenora began to sob and Laura to laugh. Both were struggling with a
tendency towards hysterics. The Professor and Quest marched grimly side by
side. With every step they took the caravan became more distinct.
Presently three or four horsemen detached themselves from the main body
and came galloping towards them. The eyes of the little party glistened as
they saw that the foremost had a water-bottle slung around his neck. He
came dashing up, waving his arms.
"You lost, people?" he asked. "Want water?"
They almost snatched the bottle from him.
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