“So am I, Girlie.”
“I refuse to take you any further, Mark.”
“I was not aware that I was being taken, Girlie.”
“I was a fool to persuade you to come. I feel morally responsible for your welfare, and…”
“And?”
“The game is becoming dangerous.”
“So much the better, Girlie, it was getting deuced monotonous.”
“Will you turn back, Mark?”
“No! I won’t. Not without you, at least.”
We laid ourselves down to sleep after that, but I don’t think that either of us found much rest. I, for one, never closed an eye, and I could hear Hugh tossing about restlessly in his rug on the ground. Towards early dawn I got up and looked out on the ever-monotonous landscape, when, from afar, towards the west, high over head, I saw three or four tiny black specks approaching—birds, of course. I gazed astonished, for it was over three weeks since we had seen any sign of bird or beast. The specks came nearer, and soon I recognised a flight of vultures, attracted, no doubt, by the dead camel we had left on the way, while at the same time, through the oppressive silence around, my ears caught the dismal sound of a pack of hyenas crying in the wilderness. As I turned I saw that Hugh stood behind me; he, too, had seen the carrion beast and heard the melancholy cry. His whole face beamed with a sudden reawakened enthusiasm, and he laid his hand on my shoulder, saying: