It neared the hour of sunset, and the desert sparkled and grew rosy in the lights of the dying sun. I dropped the reins on “The Director’s” neck, and let care slip away. My ill-humour was departing. The desert was cool, wide, empty, and silent; and the good beast beneath me moved with faintest footbeats on the sands. Farther down leaned the sun and the desert grew more rosy. The camp was behind and its last sounds fainting. Now the palm grove was near at hand.
The sun fell over the forest of treetops, polishing them as a jeweller polishes emeralds; but there was not a breath of wind to move a leaf. I passed into the trees near the smaller village. The peasants had left their work, and the herds were gathered home; but a few children played among the trees, and I called out, “Saida!” They ran up screaming. One or two I knew—Hanifa, Fatma, and Habibi, the belle of all. They could tell me nothing of the Colonel, and I scanned vainly for hoofmarks on the sand. Presently I chose a middle road leading into the heart of the palms, where I could see some distance to either side. The chance of success was small; but what better course was there?
Within the grove was cultivated ground, so that the paths which ran in many directions were often of no width at all. All these bright patches of green had grown up since our coming. Soon I lost sight of the desert altogether—unless it was to catch a quick glimpse now and again through endless trees. The place was still, and filled fast with shadows. In time I checked “The Director” to a walk: speed was of no account; luck only could bring success. Never had I known the place so empty: no labourer bent over his cultivation; no driver led home his string of camels; no marketer belaboured his laden donkey. Nor was there a sign of the men I sought.
But the journey was not in vain. I had passed a couple of miles through the trees, when I caught sight of them all of a sudden. They crossed the border of the desert land, moving towards home. They rode side by side, and distance changed them to pigmies. I could only guess at them. I turned at a right angle to cut them off. No path led that way; but I made one of my own; and now and then the vegetable patches suffered. Progress was slow, and they had passed beyond me when I struck the sand. I spurred “The Director” and cantered up behind.
The Major turned first, and next moment the Colonel looked back. I saluted, and he returned the salute.
“You are wanted at once, sir, at Divisional Artillery Headquarters.”
He answered something quickly; something not complimentary to Divisional Artillery. We rode on without hurrying the pace much, the Colonel and Major together, I a few lengths in the rear. At the edge of the camp the Major saluted and crossed to his own lines; and we turned our horses for Artillery Headquarters. We passed some distance in silence at a fast walk. Then said the Colonel:
“I think we’re away at last, Lake.”
“Thank God, sir!” said I.
“Thank God!” said he.