Raymond looked in the direction indicated, and saw that a storm was rapidly driving towards them.
"Night cometh on apace, and with it a tempest," quoth he. "Hasten, or we shall be benighted in this dreary plain."
Hardly had they traversed a distance of three arrow-flights than the wind, hitherto a faint westerly breeze, sprang up with terrific violence. The sand rose in thick clouds, shutting out everything except in their immediate vicinity, and the sun, in a mist of pale yellow sky, sank beneath the indigo-coloured clouds.
Onward they steadily plodded through the heavy yielding sand, the swiftly-falling darkness bringing with it a heavy storm of rain and hail. Wondering whether his comrades were faring as badly, the young knight stumbled and plunged resolutely onwards, his serving-man following closely at his heels, the whistling of the wind making conversation impossible.
For over two hours the twain pursued their uncomfortable walk, till at length a dark object blocked their path. It was a ruined windmill. Making their way round its massive base, the weary travellers found some slight shelter from the force of the wind, and, panting from their exertions, they leaned against the stonework to recover their breath.
"Dost know where we are?" shouted Raymond, his voice almost inaudible in the howling wind.
"No, sir," replied the man.
"But a short distance from where we left the wood, I marked this tower on our left, and, certes, we have been walking round and round for half the night."
"Then we must needs set out once more?"
"Nay. This will suffice for the present, and here we'll rest till daylight comes and the storm spends itself. The door is not barred, I hope."