Yet to each man the pace seemed
always as slow as a funeral. A mountain would lift itself above the rim
of the horizon at sunrise, and for the whole livelong day it stood
before their eyes, and was never a foot higher or an inch nearer. At
times, some men tilling a scanty patch of sorghum would send the
fugitives' hearts leaping in their throats, and they must make a wide
detour; or again a caravan would be sighted in the far distance by the
keen eyes of Abou Fatma, and they made their camels kneel and lay
crouched behind a rock, with their loaded rifles in their hands. Ten
miles from Abu Klea a relay of fresh camels awaited them, and upon these
they travelled, keeping a day's march westward of the Nile. Thence they
passed through the desert country of the Ababdeh, and came in sight of a
broad grey tract stretching across their path.
"The road from Berber to Merowi," said Abou Fatma. "North of it we turn
east to the river. We cross that road to-night; and if God wills,
to-morrow evening we shall have crossed the Nile."
"If God wills," said Trench. "If only He wills," and he glanced about
him in a fear which only increased the nearer they drew towards safety.
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