"Do you think a trader's caravan may visit Ansichow, Mirai Khan?"
"Perhaps. In another moon, or possibly three or four. Why should they come to this dung-heap in the sand?"
"Coolies might carry our supplies—if we paid them enough." Gray knew that this would be risky; but he was not in a position to choose. Time was pressing. Mirai Khan smiled, showing yellow, serried teeth.
"No, Excellency. An ounce of gold apiece will not bribe these Chinese to come into the Gobi."
"The Kirghiz?"
Mirai Khan squinted thoughtfully at the glare of sunlight without the tent. "Is the Excellency determined to go into the Gobi?"
"Yes."
"What God wills, will come to pass. I, Mirai Khan, have helped you to safety. For the space of ten days I have eaten the food you have killed. Because of this, I shall go a part of the way into the Gobi. Also, a tribe of Kirghiz should be here within four days, from the northern steppe. It may so happen that some of these will come with us. I know not."
"Four days!" Gray groaned.
"Likewise, the men of this tribe will not be carriers of burdens. It is not their custom."