Edwards and I were overjoyed at our good fortune, for it seemed to us that we were going to make a most interesting expedition under the most favourable circumstances, and when we returned to our tent we solemnly shook hands and congratulated ourselves.
"We shall be back in Baghdad in no time," said Edwards. "I have already overstayed my leave, but I daresay, when I turn up safe and sound, the Consul-General will understand, and will put matters right."
"You do not mean to say," said I, "that you propose rushing back to Baghdad?"
"As straight as a die," said he, "and jolly glad I shall be to get there."
"But what about our old friends, the sheik and Sedjur?" I asked.
"Oh," said he, "I can find out what happened to them when I get back to Baghdad. You surely do not suggest that we should continue to fool about in the desert any longer?"
"My dear boy," I said, "you can think of nothing but that wretched leave of yours. Do, for goodness' sake, forget it. You are overdue now, and if you start from Adiba the day after you get there, you will be weeks late. In all probability, the authorities have killed us, buried us, and put up memorial tablets to us by now. Much better let them go on grieving a bit longer."
Edwards looked at me and laughed.
"You are the most extraordinary person that I have ever come across," said he. "Here you are, a perfect wreck, and looking as if you had seen a hundred ghosts in the last few days; yet you do not seem at all anxious to get back to an ordinary life of peace and comfort."
"You do not understand," I argued. "You have not been inspired by the sight of the glittering serpents. Think, George, what it would be to get hold of it, and ride into Baghdad with it!"