The others were equally touched. Now that they had met with defeat, they felt at a loss to know how to carry on.
As a last resort Tishmak had fallen into a convulsion of motions asking Allah that they might be delivered from the jaws of death. His enthusiasm grew more intense with every moment, becoming almost disgusting to the others. Even Fekmah, although he was a devout believer in Mohammedanism, thought the actions of his fellow countryman detestable.
“Come, now,” urged Dr. Kirshner, using his knowledge of the native language to console Tishmak. “We’ll come out all right. This isn’t the only jam we’ve been in.”
The guide finally became his natural self, although still a bit panicky.
“You’d think after all the expeditions he’s led into the Sahara he would be calm in the face of danger,” remarked Bob.
“Danger, yes. But not in the face of tragedy!” thought Dr. Kirshner, although he said nothing. He feared all too much that this might be the end.
“Where is the next well?” asked Mr. Lewis calmly.
Fekmah put the question before the guide, who replied that there was no water within a distance of fifty miles. And mountains lay directly before them, hindering travel. It might mean a several days’ journey before they would come to the well, and then there was a possibility that it, also, was dry. Disaster seemed almost inevitable!
“But let’s hurry on,” said Mr. Holton. “Perhaps if we make time we can get to it much sooner than we think.”
The camels were urged forward at a fast trot. But before long they were entering the mountains, and the rapid pace was necessarily slackened somewhat.