“Think there’s likely to be a pen and ink yonder, sir?”
“There is with the doctor’s medicine chest, I know.”
“These camels do move about in a dreadful, wobbly way, sir, don’t they?”
“Yes; but I’m growing more accustomed to the motion already.”
“That’s because you’re young, sir, and not set like I am. But I was thinking that it would be rather hard to write plain, going as we are.”
“Very, Sam.”
“And there are so many troubles about wills when the lawyers get hold of ’em, and often just about a word or two.”
“Quite true, Sam,” said Frank seriously.
“You see, there’s a nice bit of money I’ve saved up, sir—over fifty pound—and I shouldn’t rest easy if it all went in law through the will being made hasty like. P’r’aps it would be better if we stopped till we got to the tents. What do you say, sir? Might be a table there for you to write on.”
“Well, I feel very doubtful about the table, Sam; but I can’t help thinking that I could write a good deal more clearly lying on the sand with the paper on a box or a biscuit-tin.”