“I smell the dawn,” he whispered.
“It is here, and yonder are the troops. Have I done well?”
The camel stretched out its neck and roared as there came down wind the pungent reek of camels in the square.
“Go on. We must get there swiftly. Go on.”
“They are moving in their camp. There is so much dust that I cannot see what they do.”
“Am I in better case? Go forward.”
They could hear the hum of voices ahead, the howling and the bubbling of the beasts and the hoarse cries of the soldiers girthing up for the day.
Two or three shots were fired.
“Is that at us? Surely they can see that I am English,” Dick spoke angrily.
“Nay, it is from the desert,” the driver answered, cowering in his saddle.