“There wasn’t much choice,” she replied. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, get me something to drink, something long—miles long, and cold. I’ll tell you all about it presently.”
Kate hurried away to find refreshments, and as she crossed the hot sand once more, carrying an assortment of bottles, she encountered Daniel coming back with the local police officer. He pulled off his hat and shook hands with her, rapidly.
“How d’you do,” he said. “Have you got a spare tent where I can have an hour’s sleep?”
Kate stared at him. “You seem very pleased to see me,” she laughed. “You’re bubbling over with news, aren’t you?”
“So sorry,” he replied. “Muriel will tell you: there’s been a bit of trouble at El Hamrân. I’m going back there with the police presently. Can I doss down in here?” He pointed to the tent behind him; and, hardly waiting for her reply, walked into it, telling the officer to arouse him in an hour’s time.
Kate shrugged her shoulders, and went back to Muriel, whom she found pulling off her boots and stockings.
“Muriel, what’s happened?” she asked. “Daniel says he’s going back to El Hamrân with the police in an hour’s time.”
Muriel looked up, her face flushed. “Oh, the man’s mad!” she declared. “He’s fagged out. He carried me half the way.”
Rapidly she told her friend of the trouble in the Oasis and of their escape, while Kate, uttering ejaculations of awe, plied her with refreshment and helped her to pull off some of her clothes. Muriel was far too exhausted to give a very intelligible account of their adventures; and while yet Kate was fussing around, dabbing her feet with eau de cologne, and rubbing her legs, she suddenly fell off to sleep.
Benifett Bindane listened, later, to his wife’s version of the story with marked interest.