“Personally I’m for pushing on,” said I; “some of the loads are getting lighter now, and, if any full-load camels show signs of crocking up, we can put the empty tanks on them. There’s certainly snow ahead, and that _must_ mean water, and water will mean grazing for the camels. Also, if we go back now, we’ve given the whole show away.” “Yes,” put in Forsyth; “and next time we start everybody would know what was up. Even if the Punjabis kept their mouths shut, Sadiq would talk. That snow is not on the map, and the next explorer fellow who came along would be sure to have a shot at it. I’m in favour of our taking the chance of water and going on. Your uncle’s story points to all sorts of things worth finding, and it’s working out truer every day.” “Yes, most of it seems to have been substantiated now,” said I. “John found a similar kind of man, we’ve seen the snow--unmistakable snow to my mind, though far off; and last, we’ve found one of the peculiar outcrops of rock he mentioned seeing on his return. There are too many coincidences about it for me to want to turn back.” I turned to Wrexham. “I’m all for shoving on, John, and Alec is, too.” “Then, if you two are for pushing on, that settles it. I’d no ideas of going back myself--I think we’re intended to go on; but, since we are chancing our luck badly over this water question, I thought I ought to find out your ideas first.” We turned in then, after a last lookout to see if anything could be seen of the sky. The wind was still blowing up sand, but such patches of sky as were visible seemed not quite so cloudy, and here and there a star showed through the murk. “No luck, I’m afraid,” said I, as I crawled into my valise. “However, it looks clearer, and should be better going to-morrow.” “I hope the dunes get lower. They ought to, for we must be leaving the middle of the desert now; I figure we’ve done over eighty miles. It was about seventy yesterday, and we did quite twelve to-day. Lord, I’m sleepy! Night, night!” Wrexham curled up into his blankets, and was asleep almost at once, and within five minutes Forsyth’s heavy breathing showed that he, too, had slipped into dreamland. Tired though I was, it was some little time before I got to sleep that night. I’m not given to pessimistic forebodings, but I could not help wondering, as I lay awake in the dark, whether we were wise in going on. Things look so different when you think them out by yourself in the dark from what they seem in the light in company. However, I do believe in Providence very firmly, and the coincidences we had met and heard of in this quest seemed too marked for me to disbelieve. So, finally pushing my doubts firmly into the background, I fell asleep to the whistling music of the sand-laden wind outside. CHAPTER VII THE DISTANT HILLS