He glanced with impatience
towards the entrance. Why did the man delay?
He supposed the fellow would want _backsheesh_, and that thought sent
him searching among his tattered clothing for his pocket-book. He found
it with relief; and then again physical weakness asserted itself, and he
leaned back with closed eyes. His shoulder was throbbing with a fiery
pain. He wondered if Hassan knew how to treat it. If not, things would
probably get serious.
The buzzing of a multitude of flies distracted his thoughts from this,
and he began to long ardently for a smoke. He roused himself to hunt for
his cigarette-case; but he sought in vain and finally desisted with a
groan.
It was at this point that the tent-flap was drawn aside, admitting for a
moment the marvellous orange glow of the sinking sun, and a man attired
as an Arab came noiselessly in.
VII
Herne lay quite still, regarding his visitor with critical eyes.
The latter stood with his back to the western glow. His face was more
than half concealed by one end of his turban. He made no advance, but
stood like a brazen image, motionless, inscrutable, seeming scarcely
aware of the Englishman's presence.
Pages:
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398