Their fate, Rick thought. Born to bark at the empty desert. He wondered if the little doglike animals enjoyed it. "Do they always bark at nothing?"
"No. Sometimes they bark at people. Like now. He bark at us."
Rick grinned feebly. "He doesn't like us using his desert. Well, I'd be happy to give it back to him."
The dragoman nodded. "Also. You know, when our people want to say time go by ... how you say? ... life goes on and no man can stop time or make much change in things, they speak of the jackal."
Rick looked at the guide with interest. He had been glad all through the long hours of Hassan's presence. The Sudanese had turned out to be an entertaining and thought-provoking companion. "Is it a saying of some kind?" he asked.
Hassan nodded. "The little jackal barks—but the caravan passes."
Rick repeated the expression thoughtfully. It said a great deal. "I'll remember that, Hassan."
There was something he had wanted to ask. "May I ask a personal question?"
The guide spread his hands expressively. "You hired a dragoman, but he has become your friend. Ask what you will."
"Thank you, Hassan. Scotty and I think of you as a friend, too. I wanted to ask about your English. You've been speaking very good English to me all day, but until we were captured, you spoke sort of broken English."