When, a few minutes later, he stood up, Herne knew that the end had
come; knew, too, by the look in the Arab's eyes that they stood
themselves on the brink of that great gulf into which the boy's life had
but that instant slipped.
"The Wandis have returned from a great slaughter," Hassan said. "Their
Prophet is with them, and they bring many captives. The lad wandered
into the bush, and was caught by a band of spies. They tortured him, and
let him go, _effendi_. Thus will they torture us if we go forward any
longer." He caught at the bridle of the nearest camel. "The lust of
blood is upon them," he said. "We will go back."
"Not so," Herne said. "If we go back we die, for the water is almost
gone. We must press forward now. There will be water in the mountains."
Hassan glanced at him sideways. He looked as if he were minded to defy
the mad Englishman, but Herne's revolver was yet in his hand, and he
thought better of it. Moreover, he knew, as did Herne, that their water
supply was not sufficient to take them back. So, without further
discussion, they pressed on until the heat compelled them to halt.
It had seemed to Herne the previous night that he could never close his
eyes again, but now as he descended from his camel, an intense
drowsiness possessed him.
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