They spoke together in whispers for a few minutes, deciding the course they meant to pursue. Then Molloy shouldered the provision bag, Miles grasped his official lance--the only weapon they had among them,--and off they set on their journey across the desert, like a ship entering on an unknown sea, without the smallest idea of how far they were from the frontier of Egypt, and but a vague notion of the direction in which they ought to go. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. A Horrible Situation. All that night our fugitives walked steadily in the direction of their guiding-star, until the dawn of day began to absorb its light. Then they selected a couple of prominent bushes on the horizon, and, by keeping these always in their relative positions, were enabled to shape their course in what they believed to be the right direction. By repeating the process continuously they were enabled to advance in a fairly straight line. Molloy, as we have said, carried the provision bag, and, although it was a very heavy one, he refused to let his comrades relieve him of it until breakfast-time. Then it was discovered that inside of the large bag there were rolled tight up four smaller bags with shoulder-straps to them. "A knowin' feller that Mohammed is," said Jack Molloy, as he handed a bag to each; "he understands how to manage things. Let's see what sort o' grub he has. Corn-cakes, I do believe, an' dates, or some sort o' dried fruit, an'--water-bottles! well, that is a comfort. Now then, boys, go ahead. We can't afford to waste time over our meals." The others so thoroughly agreed with their friend on this point that they began to eat forthwith, almost in silence. Then, the provisions having been distributed, they resumed their march, which was almost a forced one, so anxious were they to get as far away as possible from the Arab army. Coming to a large mimosa bush in the course of the morning they halted and sat down to rest a little, and hold what the sailor called a "palaver." "You see, boys," he said, "it'll be of no manner of use our scuddin' away before the wind under a press o' canvas like this, without some settled plan--" "Ain't our plan to git away from the Arabs as fast as we can?" said Moses Pyne, who sat on a stone at the sailor's feet. "Yes, Moses, but that's only part of it," returned Molloy. "We must keep away as well as get away--an' that won't be quite so easy, for the country is swarmin' wi' the dark-skinned rascals, as the many tracks we have already passed shows us. If we was to fall in wi' a band of 'em-- even a small one--we would be took again for sartin', for we've got nothin' to fight wi' but our fists." "These would offer but poor resistance to bullet and steel," said Armstrong, "and that lance you're so fond of, Miles, wouldn't be worth much." "Not much," admitted Miles, surveying the badge of his late office, "but better than nothing."