“Yes, Allah hath led us to the side of Girzilla’s mother.”
“Always thinking of her.”
“Always. By night I dream of her, by day she is my only hope and desire.”
“And wouldst thou marry her?”
“Why not? If she is Girzilla, the bandit, she shall be mine; but if she be really the daughter of the great chief, Mohammed, then if he consents she shall be mine also.”
“Infatuated youth!”
Mohammed was impatient to continue the journey, and for an hour he talked with Max and Ibrahim about the river and the volcano.
He formed an idea that the oasis where Sherif el Habib had encamped was to the southwest; whereas Max had been going almost due east.
“Lead, worthy chief,” exclaimed Ibrahim, “and if thou dost but find my Girzilla I care not which way thou goest.”
At sunrise the next day the caravan started, and met with nothing more terrible than the awful expanse of sand until they encamped.