“Well, right away on the horizon of this sea of sand,” said Frank cheerfully; “but I don’t think we are above a mile or two away.”
“Oh!” groaned Sam. “Say two miles, then, and chuck in another because places are always farther away than you think. Three miles, and we’re going a mile an hour. Mr Frank, sir, have you got a pencil and a bit o’ paper?”
“Yes, in my pocket-book. Will you have them now?”
“Me, sir,” said the man faintly. “I couldn’t write, sir; I want you to do it for me.”
“A letter? Well, when we get to the tents.”
“No, sir, now. I sha’n’t live to see no tents. There ain’t much, sir; only a silver watch and chain, a bit in the Post Office Savings Bank, and my clothes, as my brother ’ll be very glad to have.”
“Oh, I see! you want to make your will, Sam,” said Frank seriously.
“That’s it, sir; and you’d better write it as plain as you can, sir, so as there sha’n’t be no mistakes after, and I dessay I can manage to make my cross.”
“A will made on a camel in the desert, Sam!” said Frank seriously. “Rather a novelty in wills, eh? Better wait till after breakfast.”
“Breakfast, sir?”