“De Rochelle’s work was to raise the money for the Sahara Development Organization, and to that end he was sent to New York. He induced me to accompany him as his secretary. What followed is already known to you.”
“What do you think of the scheme of flooding the Sahara?” Carl asked, fearing a further discussion of her troubles might renew her tears.
“I do not like it. I fear it.”
“But why?”
“The plan is to make the desert fertile as it used to be in the days of the Roman Empire. It is a great engineering problem and can be done by building a canal from the sea to allow the waters to flow in. As a large part of the desert lies below sea level, the water would naturally flood a large area. As you know, the sun would evaporate a lot of this water to be returned to earth in the form of rain, which falling on the surrounding desert would soon make it a fertile land.
“But this undertaking, as I understand it, will not only change the climate of the Sahara but will affect that of the entire world. At a meeting of the promoters I heard it said that the result might be disastrous to the rest of the world. But like any nation or group of individuals seeking mere gain for themselves, the rest of the world is not likely to be taken into consideration.
“It would be a good thing for the world at large if the Sahara could be revegetated, but it must not be the cause of suffering. I would give anything a woman can righteously offer to the one who will prevent this destructive flooding. You see, it would destroy my beloved homestead at the Gurara Oasis.”
“It can be done,” remarked Carl, as he drew a pencil and a map from his pocket. He spread the map on the table between them and using his pencil as a pointer explained once more his mission in the desert, assuring her, at the same time, that he would think of a plan by which the catastrophes she feared would be avoided.
Sana was overcome with joy. Rising from her chair, she clasped his hand with both hers, exclaimed, “I have, indeed, found a friend in you.”