“Very well. Why don’t you ride?”
“Why don’t you?” he retorted.
“Because all our poor fellows have to walk.”
“Exactly, Gil; my reason. Wait a bit, and we’ll mount them all. Ah, if that time would only come!”
It did not then, nor yet for many days, during which we had steadily followed the track, never once losing it; but I could note how weary both Haynes and Brace grew.
“You see,” said the former, “they must be making for some trysting-place—one of the big towns, perhaps; and if they reach it, our chance has gone.”
“Don’t let Brace hear you say that,” I whispered; but from hints the captain dropped that night, I was certain that he was thinking something of the kind.
It was toward evening, after a fearfully hot day, during part of which we had been forced to rest, while Dost had gone on in advance to investigate, that we were toiling on through a very beautiful part of the country—all green, and a succession of park-like patches and plains, that were wonderfully refreshing after weary tramps over brown deserts of dust, that we were suddenly checked by our advance men announcing a native some distance ahead.
But as we reached the front, the distant figure held up its turban in a peculiar way, and I exclaimed—
“Dost!”