The man did, a full water bag. They drank sparingly, knowing the danger of too much water after deprivation. Then the three mounted the camels. Rick held onto the horn in front of him as the mount lurched protestingly to its feet, then they were going across the sands to the east at what seemed incredible speed. Ahead of them, the first flush of real dawn was visible.
The sun was high before they came within sight of the first man-made objects in the desert. Rick saw pyramids, but not those of Giza. He called to Hassan, who was riding his swaying mount like a veteran.
"What pyramids are those, Hassan?"
"Sakkarah," the dragoman replied. "We come back long way around."
To the east, then the south, Rick thought. He was by no means sure of what would be waiting, but at least he knew where he was. Sakkarah, a "must" for tourists, Bartouki had said. Well, he was getting there, even though he had taken the hard way.
On the road near Sakkarah a car was waiting, and in it was Kemel Moustafa. The cameleer made the mounts kneel. Rick and Hassan got off, and the man with the camels hurried away without a word. The two walked up to the car.
"Thank you for rescuing us," Rick said politely.
Moustafa had not spoken. Now he tugged at his mustache and nodded. "Whether it was worth while remains to be seen. According to my man, Youssef did not get the cat. This is correct?"
"Yes. Did you see my friend last night?"