"The mystery of the desert," murmured Grace Harlowe, but Hi Lang spoke no more. His lips seemed sealed, though could they have seen his face they would have observed a new and more tender expression there, and seen him inhale in deep breaths, heavy draughts of the faintly scented air of the desert that he both loved and hated.
CHAPTER VII
THE FIRST DESERT CAMP
"How far do we go to-night?" asked Grace, after a long silence, during which the party moved steadily forward.
"Until we find a tank," was the brief reply uttered by Hi Lang.
"What's that he says?" questioned Hippy.
"Mr. Lang says that we must keep on going until we reach a tank, whatever that may be," answered Grace. "Will you please explain, Mr. Lang?"
"Tank is a water hole covered by a thin crust of alkali. Sometimes the crust is there but the water isn't," the guide informed her.
"Do you know where to find one?" questioned Hippy.
"I know where one ought to be, but you can't most always tell. Ought to reach this one about midnight. If we get water there we will be all right. Go easy with your canteens, for if we shouldn't find water you will need what you have."