As they rounded a tall, red boulder, Tishmak suddenly halted his camel and pointed to a little crevice between the rocks.
“Well, as I live!” murmured the archæologist in surprise. “Camels—dead, mummified camels.”
The beasts had evidently been dead a long time, for their skins were extremely dry and cracked. The fierce desert sun had preserved their bodies for an indefinite period.
“And look, they’ve got their mouths down to the ground, as if they were searching for water,” observed Joe.
“They were,” affirmed Fekmah. “There once a well here, but it dried up just before camels got to it.”
“Perhaps they wandered for days searching for it, and then finally found it—dry.” Bob shuddered.
It was a pitiable sight, particularly to the Americans. They half expected to come across the mummified body of some unfortunate explorer who had died a tragic death from thirst.
“We must be doubly careful to have the containers filled with water,” warned Mr. Holton. “This is a dangerous region, and disaster could easily come upon our little expedition.”
They trudged on in the rapidly rising temperature of the terrible sun, keeping their eyes off the ground as much as possible to escape the glare. They could easily have worn sun glasses, but hesitated to do so because of the rather obstructed vision.