“Nay,” replied Hassan, laughing, “these are but the chances of the game: had your horse been swift as Shèitan my shoulder would have felt your jereed.”
Thus discoursing, they followed their silent guide, who had not struck into the heart of the desert, but had pursued a route parallel to that taken by the Sammalous, and nearer to the cultivated ground. He halted in a small hollow in which was a pool left by the receding waters of the Nile, and around its edge a few patches of the herbs and grasses which grow on the borders of the desert.
“We are now nearly opposite their last night’s encampment,” he said to Hassan; “the moon is low, and we must remain here till dawn.”
The party dismounted accordingly to rest and refresh the horses and await the first grey approach of dawn: no sooner did it appear than they were again in motion, and from the summit of a small mound the guide pointed to a curiously shaped hill to the westward, saying—
“Just below that hill they encamped last night.”
As soon as they reached its base the party was halted, and Hassan went up with the guide to reconnoitre. When near the top they crept on their hands and knees, and looked over into the plain below: it was of considerable extent, and although they strained their eyes in every direction, no trace could they see of man or horse.
“They have travelled faster than I expected,” said the Arab, in a tone of disappointment; “they must already have passed over that ridge opposite, for that is the way to the tents of their tribe.”
Hassan thought it now a good opportunity for trying the virtue of the present that he had received the day before. Unslinging his telescope, and adjusting its focus to the mark he had made on the brass, he directed it to the range of hills pointed out by the guide: for some time he looked in vain, but suddenly an exclamation of joy broke from him.
“Praise to Allah, I have them now! one, two, three horsemen just going over the ridge; the rest must have passed before.”
“Which way are they going?” inquired the guide.