Late in the afternoon of the fifth day the caravan came to a sudden halt. In the distance were visible green hills and rolling plains covered with verdure. The desert seemed to have ended. It was evident that something of importance was about to happen.
All dismounted, and while the Arabs and Somalis entered into an excited conversation, the captives were for the first time allowed to converse.
Their hopeless situation was too well understood for discussion. Strange to say, Sir Arthur was the only one who had not abandoned hope.
“The government will save us,” he repeated gloomily. “They will send an army into the interior.”
No one ventured to dispute this assertion. They talked in low tones of their probable destination, and regarded with some uneasiness the conference going on among the Arabs, which had now assumed a more excitable phase.
“They are quarreling over something,” said Guy. “Why do you suppose they have stopped here?”
“I don’t know,” replied Melton, “unless they intend to separate, the Arabs going on to Harar, the Somalis to their own country, which lies to the south of Harar.”
Melton’s theory was very plausible, but before anyone could reply the conference terminated suddenly, and the Arabs, drawing apart, came quickly up to the captives, and, laying hold of Sir Arthur and the colonel, led them over to the Somalis.
This was repeated with Momba, Captain Waller, and the Hindoo soldiers, but, to their surprise, Guy and Melton were ordered to remain where they were.
Foremost among the Somalis stood Oko Sam, his leopard skin dangling about his loins, and a fiendish expression on his face.