"Oh, that's understood," said the Englishman.
"I hope it may not be my lot," said Mac, "but I'll do it all the same."
"Now," said the corporal, "we must go farther south and chance meeting with the Arabs. I don't know," he went on, "whether I am anxious to meet any or not. If we don't meet any we shall probably miss the wells; if we do meet them there will be a fight."
"It is better to fight," said Mac, "than to die of thirst in the desert."
"I think so too," I said.
"Well," asked the corporal, "shall we go straight on at top speed or rest?"
"Let us go on," I advised; "let us press on as far as we can, then if we meet any Arabs, or if the spahis ride up to us, we can halt and fight. Remember, without food or water for our horses we cannot run, we cannot make even a running fight; it must be a standing fight to a finish."
The Englishman and Mac agreed with me, and before we started again I said to Giulia in their hearing:
"N'aie pas peur, ma bien chère, tu ne seras pas prisonnière, plutôt tu seras tuée par le dernier protecteur."
"Je suis bien content," she replied, and, bowing prettily to the others, she murmured a word of thanks.