“Herc, if you do anything like that again, you’ll be left behind,” spoke Ned, and the blue-jackets roared their endorsement of this dictum.
“What do we do now? Walk or take donkeys?” asked a number of voices.
“Neither. We are going to board cruisers.”
“Cruisers?”
“Yes, desert cruisers,” laughed Ned; “in other words, camels.”
“Hurray for the camels!” cried a voice.
“Come ahead, then,” cried Ned, and led by the Dreadnought Boys the happy party set out from the station. A short distance outside they saw the “desert cruisers.” They lay with their legs folded under them and their upper lips sneeringly curled. About them flitted the burnoosed owners of the beasts, fierce-looking Bedouins, although the only robbery they commit in these days is the fleecing of tourists.
“Wow! Look at the switch-backs!” cried Herc. “They’ve got double turrets.”
The camels scrambled to their feet. There was a chorus of dismay from the sailors.
“How are we going to board those craft?”