"I don't know. My poor father and I passed through a village where the people hadn't had any food for a week, and it was wonderful to see how energetic they were when they saw us coming. They were all skin and bone, dreadful-looking objects; but they weren't anything like so crocked as we should be."
"Well, I suppose it all depends on what you are used to. We'll discuss the pros and cons of vegetarianism when we're out of this and have got a full choice of either food. At present we are likely to become air-eaters before long."
"Aerophags, eh? or chameleons: they're supposed to live on air, aren't they?"
"You seem very chirpy."
"Well, old chap, the fact is I'm so uncommonly glad we're both alive that I am perhaps inclined to be a little----"
"Light-headed," suggested John.
"If you must be serious, I don't think your notion of an immediate dash is a good one. The men have had a lot of hard marching, and we ought to give them a good rest--a full day, at any rate."
"I dare say that would be wise, but the worst of it is that it will give time for that crowd outside to grow still bigger, and the chances of our getting through them safely will be slighter than ever."
"But remember they've got to eat, as well as we, and the more there are of them the worse their position. The country we came through was practically barren, and when they have used up the food they have with them they'll have to range about for more. That'll be our chance. I vote we sit tight for a while."
"All right. Here's Said with our supper: what is it to-night, khansaman?"