CHAPTER VII
Meanwhile the camels stormed like a hurricane over the sand glistening in the moonlight. It was night. The moon, at first red and large as a wheel, paled and rose higher. The distant heights of the desert were covered with a muslin-like, silvery mist, which instead of hiding them from view clothed them with a mysterious light. Ever and anon the plaintive whining of jackals rang out from among the scattered rocks.
Still another hour passed. Stasch put his arm around Nell to support her and to lessen the springing swing of this wild ride, which was most fatiguing to the girl. The girl asked herself over and over again why they were racing so and why they did not see their fathers’ tents. At last Stasch decided to tell her the truth, which sooner or later must come to light.
“Nell,” he said, “take off one glove and let it drop without attracting attention.”
“Why, Stasch?”
He pressed her to him and answered with an unusual apprehensiveness in his voice:
“Do as I tell you.”
Nell held on to Stasch with one hand, and as she was afraid to let go, she began to draw off the glove with her little teeth, each finger separately, and when she had pulled it entirely off, she let it drop to the ground.
“After a little while throw the other down also,” said Stasch a few minutes later. “I have thrown mine away, but yours can be seen better because they are light.”
He noticed that the girl looked questioningly at him, and continued: