As it was they sat firmly as they could, swaying to and fro with the monotonous motion of the camels, and growing more and more faint, while at last Frank spoke to the Sheikh to set one of his young men to keep an eye upon Sam, for he felt at times too much irritated to meet the poor fellow’s pleading eyes, and followed close behind the professor, who kept turning in his seat to make some remark to cheer him up.
Then apparently all at once, after he had been straining his eyes vainly over the far-spreading, interminable plain in search of their halting-place, the Sheikh rode alongside, smiling and apparently as fresh as when they had started, to point away in the direction they were going.
“The tents, Excellency,” he said.
Frank felt as if he had taken a draught of renewed life, as he raised his hand to his brow and shaded his eyes from the sun.
“I see nothing,” he said.
“Look again, Excellency. Your eyes are not used to the desert. There, straight past the Hakim’s camel.”
“Ah, yes! I can see something like a heap of sand.”
“Look again in half an hour,” said the Sheikh smiling, “and that which you see will have changed to something more than a heap of sand.”
“Can you make out the tents, Landon?” said Frank.
“Oh, no; my eyes are not like Ibrahim’s,” was the reply; “but I take it for granted, and I shall be very glad to get there. I want my breakfast badly. I say, Ibrahim, there will be some coffee?”