Without a word the man Walter brought a portion of steaming lamb, a bowl of vegetables, a loaf of brown bread, and an earthenware vessel filled with wine. Knives, forks, and cups there were none. This appetizing fare he set down upon the ground, then retired as silently as he had come.
Even in the midst of their astonishment the travellers could not ignore the pangs of hunger, and soon they were deep in their repast, Reeves cutting the meat with the dagger, which he had also concealed in his sash.
"We have fallen upon a mediaeval race of Europeans. Of that there is not the slightest doubt," remarked the correspondent, when his hunger was partly appeased. "They have not even advanced to the use of knives and forks, sharing their meat in precisely the same manner as did our Norman and early English ancestors."
"Who do you think they are?" asked Hugh.
"Descendants of the Crusaders. A few weeks ago I would have ridiculed the suggestion, but, by Jove! it seems that the old legend is true after all. Well, they seem to treat us decently, so that's a comfort."
"I hope they will send us down to the coast," observed Gerald.
"No doubt they will if they can," replied Reeves, slicing off another portion of meat. "But it wouldn't be a bad plan to ask that fellow a few questions. Walter!"
"Try shouting 'waiter' instead," suggested Gerald, when the summons brought no response.
The correspondent called again, but still there was no reply. Then, considering awhile, he clapped his hands. The man immediately appeared.
"Tell me," said Reeves, speaking slowly and distinctly in English, "how is it that we find men of fair complexion living in the desert?"