Then, as he staggered, powerless for the moment to stand, an
arm, hard and fleshless as the arm of a skeleton, caught him and urged
him forward. Irresistibly impelled, he left the glare of the fire, and
stumbled into deep shadow.
Ten seconds later he was on his knees by a natural basin of rock in
which clear water brimmed, plunged up to the elbows, and drinking as
only a man who has known the thirst of the desert can drink.
V
He turned at last from that exquisite draught with the water running
down his face. His Arab dress hung about him in tatters. He was bruised
and bleeding in a dozen places. But the man's heart of him was alive
again and beating strongly. He was ready to sell his life as dearly as
he might.
He looked round for the native who had brought him thither, but it
seemed to him that he was alone, shut away by a frowning pile of rock
from the great amphitheatre in which the Wandis were celebrating their
return from the slaughter of their enemies. The shouting and the
shrieking continued in ghastly tumult, but for the moment he seemed to
be safe.
The moon was up, but the shadows were very deep. He seemed to be
standing in a hollow, with sheer rock on three sides of him.
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