“And here’s hoping those two thieves haven’t gotten there first and taken everything away,” said Joe.
That afternoon they came to a small well and refilled their containers, which were beginning to get low. Despite the fact that the water was exceedingly warm, it was greatly welcomed by the explorers.
A high hill was before them, and Bob suggested that they climb to the top afoot and make out the character of the land ahead of them.
The others were in favor of doing so, for Fekmah might catch sight of something that would be recognized as a landmark on the map.
The climb was tiresome but easy, the many boulders offering footholds. Finally they reached the top and turned their gaze toward the horizon.
“What’s that ’way over there?” asked Joe, pointing to a narrow valley walled closely by high rocks.
Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton had their binoculars strapped over their shoulders. They took them out and peered into the distance.
Suddenly Mr. Holton started.
“It’s a village!” he exclaimed, and Mr. Lewis nodded. “A village of Arabs. Look at the low huts of sun-baked mud,” handing the binoculars to Fekmah.
“Yes,” said Fekmah, gazing out through the glasses. “Suppose we go over there and see them. They treat us all right. It not take much of our time.”