“Why don’t you speak?” asked Stasch.
“Because I am wondering whether I had better tie you to the saddle or bind your hands behind your back.”
“Have you gone crazy?”
“No. But I can guess what you want to do.”
“The searchers will overtake us in any case, so I need not do anything.”
“The desert is in God’s hands.”
They again relapsed into silence. The coarse sand had ceased falling, but a fine red dust, somewhat resembling mildew, remained in the air, through which the sun shone like a sheet of copper. Distant objects could now be plainly seen. Before the caravan extended a plain, on the edge of which the Arab’s sharp eyes again perceived a cloud. It was higher than the previous ones and rose in columns that formed enormous funnels with wide-spreading tops. At this sight the hearts of the Arabs and Bedouins quaked with fear, for they recognized the sand-spout. Idris raised his hands, and lifting them to his ears, began to bow to the advancing whirlwind. His belief in his own God apparently did not prevent him fearing others, for Stasch distinctly heard him say:
“Lord! We are your children, therefore do not devour us!” And the “Lord” rushed upon them, and hit the camels with such force that they almost fell to the ground. The animals huddled together in a compact mass, with their heads turned toward the center. Enormous quantities of sand began to fly. The caravan was enveloped in darkness that momentarily grew more intense, in which they saw black and indistinct objects—like enormous birds or camels—sweep rapidly past them, as if frightened by the hurricane. The Arabs were greatly alarmed, for they thought they saw the souls of the men and animals that had perished in the sand. In the midst of the tumult and howling of the hurricane they heard strange voices, sometimes weeping, sometimes laughing, sometimes cries for help. These sounds were only delusions. Danger a hundred times more terrible threatened the caravan. The Sudanese well knew that if one of the great sand-spouts, which continually form in the center of the hurricane, should drag them into its vortex, it would knock down the riders and disperse the camels, and, bursting upon them, would in the twinkling of an eyelash bury them under mountains of sand, there to remain until some similar storm should uncover their bones and scatter them over the desert.
Stasch nearly lost his breath; the sand blinded him, and he became dazed and dizzy. Sometimes it seemed as though he heard Nell crying and calling, and so he thought of her alone. Knowing that the camels were standing closely together, and that Idris could not be paying any attention to him, he determined to steal over to the girl’s camel, not that he wished to escape, but only to help and encourage her. He had scarcely put out his hands to catch Nell’s saddle than Idris’ large arm held him back. The Sudanese picked him up like a feather, laid him down, and tried to bind him with a palm rope, and after he had tied his hands, placed him across the saddle. Stasch clenched his teeth and resisted as much as possible, but all in vain. As his throat was parched and his mouth full of sand, he could not convince Idris that he only wanted to assist the girl, and had no intention of trying to escape. But a little later, feeling that he was all but suffocated, he cried out in a strained voice:
“Save the little Biut! Save the little Biut!”[[6]]