Parr, on the Muscat donkey, looking more haggard than ever in the sunshine, demanded:
"Is it the white man who is called the Bwana Bangana?"
That was the name that had accompanied the news.
The safari marched faster than before, toward the exalted masses that trembled behind the heat. They emerged upon rolling plains remotely dotted with herds of zebras and antelope. In the blinding sky they saw kites, buzzards, and crows, rising from the carcasses that had been left half devoured by noctambulant beasts of prey. At nightfall the lightning flashed above the mountains in yellow sheets or rosy zigzags. Thunder rolled out across the plain in majestic detonations.
Lilla, watching the storm from the doorway of her tent, told herself that he, too, must hear these sounds; that she had come near enough to share with him at any rate this sensation—unless her dread had already been realized, and he had sunk into a sleep from which even such noises could not wake him.
Hamoud appeared at her side. He quoted from the Uncreated Book:
"He showeth you the lightning, a source of awe and hope."
Her heart swelled; she turned to that fervent, handsome face beneath the turban a look of peculiar tenderness like a sword thrust, and responded in liquid tones:
"What should I have done without you?"