"But Harry--Harry--Harry!" sighed Frank sadly.

"Harry is in Egypt, my dear boy, where things go on as slowly now with the people as they did in the days of the old Pharaohs. Harry must wait, and you must wait, till we can reach him. Try at once to realise where you are, and that this is the only way in which we can achieve our plans."

"I'll try," said Frank sadly.

"That's right, for if left to yourself you would press on, and in less than a month all that would be left of my dear lad would be a few whitening bones in the desert, and Harry still gazing northward and westward for the help that did not come."

"I'm afraid you are right, Landon," said Frank sadly.

"I'm sure I am, my dear lad. Experientia has dosed me. Africa is a problem, solemn and slow as its great deserts, and the people here, much as we look down upon them, have been Nature-taught, educated, as it were, from the failings of those who have gone before, how to live, how to travel, in short, how to exist in such a land."

"Forgive me, Landon," said Frank.

"Of course, my dear boy. I know exactly how you feel. I was just as bad when I first came out here. The men maddened me with their slow movements when some glorious slab covered with hieroglyphics or painted pictures cut in, lay at the bottom of a hole into which the sand kept crumbling and trickling back. I was ready to give up over and over again when tired out at night, but a good rest made me ready to go on again in the morning with fresh patience, and in the end I won."

"There," said Frank, "say no more; I know you are right. This all comes of your talking to me. If you had not spoken I should have gone on in silence, so you have yourself to thank for my display of discontent."

"Then I am very glad I have spoken," said the professor warmly, "because I can feel that you will take the right view of matters."

"Yes, I shall try hard to."

"That's right, and the best thing you can do is to enter into the journey from a keen observer's point of view. Now look before you.

What can you see?"

"A wide expanse of sand baking in the sunshine."

"Nothing else?"

"No."

"Ah, that shows how uneducated your eyes are, and how much they have to learn. I'm not very clever over such things, being best when I get scent of a buried temple, tomb, or city. But this waste of nothingness contains plenty to interest an observer, and I can help you a little if you will try to make the best of our journey."

"I have told you I will," said Frank.

"Yes; so we'll begin at once, for you may believe me that we are not going to journey fifteen or twenty miles to-day without seeing something more interesting than sand. Here's my little binocular. Take it, and we'll begin."

"First of all, though," said Frank, "are we bound for some particular place this evening?"

"Of course. For another patch of water-holes. Ibrahim says they are nothing like so good as those by the encampment, but they will do for the night's halt. To-morrow we shall have to halt right in the desert and depend upon the water we take with us. The next day we journey on to fresh wells."

"I see," said Frank; "our journeys are regulated by the supplies of water."

"Exactly. Water means life."

"And Ibrahim can trust to his knowledge of the country to go straight to these places?"

"Yes; I have proved him over and over again. Now then: try the gla.s.s."

"Yes," said Frank, opening the case; "but tell me, do you mean to collect birds, insects, fossils, and plants?"

"Certainly, everything we can find; but only to examine at the end of the day. We must keep nothing; only make a few notes. Well, can you see anything?"

"Not yet. It is rather awkward to get a steady look with the camel moving."

"If you catch sight of anything worth looking at you can check your steed."

"Yes, there's something moving yonder--a dog."

"I doubt it," said the professor. "Try again."

"It looks like a dog. What is it then--a fox? Ah, it is gone behind those heaps yonder."

"Then the desert is not quite empty, Frank. Your dog or fox must be a jackal; but I wonder at your seeing him in the daylight. Let me look at your heap of sand."

"One minute; there are two somethings upon it. Two of those jackals sitting on a heap, I suppose, by their holes. No; one of them has stretched out two wings. Why, they're vultures."

"Better still. Now I'll look.--Thanks. Your eyes require a different focus from mine. Yes. What I expected," said the professor, handing back the gla.s.s. "Have another look at your sand heap; it will repay observation; it is one of the milestones of the caravan roads, only they are not placed at regular distances. Have you caught it again?"

"I keep catching glimpses," replied Frank, with the gla.s.s to his eye; "but the whole thing seems to be dancing about.--Now I've got it.--No; gone again.--That's better. The vultures have hopped off the heap and are spreading their wings. We have scared them away. Yes, there they go--a few hops, and they are rising sluggishly. No, I can't follow them with the gla.s.s."

"Can you see anything else?"

"Yes, I've got the heap again, and there are three of the little dog-like creatures scurrying right away. I say, this is a good gla.s.s!

I can see the dusty sand rise as it is kicked by the jackals. Here, let's stop the camel."

"No," said the professor; "there's nothing worth stopping for."

"But I want to make out something lying by that little heap. It looks like a curved bone."

"It is a curved bone," said the professor.

"You can't see with the naked eye."

"No," said the professor, smiling; "but I have been along such a track as this before."

"But there is no track," said Frank. "We are going over smooth sand, and making a fresh one."

"Which will all be obliterated in a few hours. It is a track, though, as your heap proves."

"I should have liked to examine it, though."

"Well, you will have plenty of chance, for we shall go pretty close to it--but on the windward side."

Frank lowered the gla.s.s to look inquiringly at the speaker.

"Look here," he said; "you mean something by the way you just spoke."

"Certainly I did."