“What are you going to do with your camels and men?” Muriel asked, as she stood in the sunlight, regarding her handiwork with satisfaction.
“One of the camels belongs to me,” he replied, “and its duties will be to take me to and from Mena House every day, and to fetch water from the well. My servant Hussein is going to remain with me; and his brother—the lean fellow with the squint—will look after the camel. All the rest of the bunch will be off back to the desert tomorrow morning, the lucky devils.”
Muriel looked at him questioningly. “Why ‘lucky’?” she asked. “Are you sick of your fellow countrymen already?”
He corrected himself quickly. “No,” he said; “I spoke without thought. As a matter of fact, I’m mighty glad to be here, thanks to you.”
“O, have I made any difference?” she queried, with an air of innocence.
He put his hands into his pockets, and, sucking at his pipe, regarded her thoughtfully. “Yes,” he said at length, “I think you’ve made all the difference.” And then, as though afraid that his words might be thought to bear a romantic interpretation, he added: “You’ve made the place look fine.”
Hussein now served an excellent little luncheon consisting of particular delicacies from the store-cupboard, washed down with refreshing lime-juice and soda; and Muriel did full justice to the meal. When she had devoured everything within sight, like a hungry schoolgirl, she yawned loudly; and Daniel, without further question, arranged some blankets on the floor at the side of the tent, and covered them with the sheepskin from his saddle.
She stared at him anxiously. “What’s that for?” she asked.
“For you to sleep on,” he said. “I’m going out to see about the men, and you’d better take the opportunity for a siesta. You look half asleep already.”
“I think I’d better not,” she replied. “We ought to be going soon.”