Chapter Fifteen.
Receiving the Enemy.
As Frank was about to raise the glass to his eye, the doctor, who was some little distance in advance, checked his camel for them to come up alongside, and pointed the while away to where in the distance about a dozen column-like clouds were spinning round as if upon pivots, while they advanced as if to cross their course.
“A sand-storm,” said the professor. “Not much, but unpleasant enough if it comes upon us. Hi! Ibrahim; will those pillars cross before we get near them?”
“I cannot say, Excellency,” replied the old man. “I fear not. It will be better to halt.”
The preparations for the storm were soon made, the camels crouching down with their necks fully outstretched, while their riders knelt down sheltered by the animals and their packs, and held their thin cotton robes ready to veil their faces should the storm come near.
It was a strange sight, the tall, pillar-like clouds sweeping along over the level sand like so many parts of a vast machine preparing warp and weft for spinning a garment to clothe the earth, and there were moments when the pillars were so regular in distance and motion that it seemed impossible not to believe that they were artificial.
All was still where the travellers stood and knelt, the sun pouring down upon them from a clear sky, and as the Sheikh kept scanning the approaching storm Frank watched him to try and read what he thought.
It was pretty plain, for the old man’s eyes brightened and he seemed to breathe more freely, since it was evident that if the whirlwind kept its course the dust pillars would pass across the track they were making half a mile away.