As he spoke he pointed to the horizon, where was seen a dull reddish cloud. To an unpractised eye it looked like one of the dusky evening clouds; but on closer and more attentive observation, it was clearly seen to rise, and at the same time to be extending right and left very rapidly.
‘I beg to represent,’ said Daood Khan, who had come from behind, ‘that there is a group of trees yonder not far from the road, and, if my memory serves me well, there should be an old hut in it; will my lord go thither?’
‘It is well spoken, Daood,’ said his master, ‘lead on.’
There was no wind—not a breath—but all was quite still; not even a cricket or grasshopper chirped among the grass: it seemed as though nature could scarcely breathe, so intense was the closeness.
‘Alla! Alla! I shall choke if there is no wind,’ said the fat cook, fanning himself with the end of a handkerchief.
‘You will have enough presently,’ said Nasur.
‘Inshalla!’ exclaimed one of the camel drivers, ‘the Toofans[[3]] of the Carnatic are celebrated.’
‘Alas!’ sighed the cook, and wished himself anywhere but in the Carnatic.
At last a low moaning was heard,—a distant sound, as if of rushing water. The rack above them redoubled its pace, and went fearfully fast: every instant increased the blackness on each side and behind. They could no longer see any separate clouds above, but one dense brown black ropy mass, hurrying onward, impelled by the mighty wind. Soon nothing was visible but a bright line all round the horizon, except in front, where the wall of red dust, which proved that the previous rains had not extended far beyond where they were, every moment grew higher and higher, and came nearer and nearer.
They increased their speed to gain the trees, which were discernible a quarter of a mile before them. ‘Once there,’ said the Khan, ‘we can make some shelter for ourselves with the walls of the tents passed round the trees.’