“Yes, I expect our things must seem strange to you, having been cut off from the big world so long.” “What am I eating, Harilek? This pink stuff?” “That’s a fish of our country.” “But you said your country was ever so far away! How could you bring fish with you?” “Oh, we seal it up in boxes, and it keeps for months and years. It tastes all right, doesn’t it?” “Quite. But how very wonderful.” “Not half as wonderful as finding some one like you here, just like our own people.” “Am I like your women?” “Yes, only nicer-looking than most.” “Nice compliments, Harilek, considering the things I’m wearing. _I_ know what I look like to-day. If you wanted to make pretty speeches, you shouldn’t have let the doctor give me the mirror. But I mean are your women fair like me? And what sort of clothes do they wear?” “Don’t ask me. All sorts.” “I see. Not trousers like these things, I hope!” “No; not trousers like those. Skirts. I hope _you_ don’t wear trousers--like that.” She gave a sniff of disgust. “No, Harilek! _Skirts._ Nice short ones.” Having loaded the tent, Forsyth came over, made a hurried breakfast, looked at his watch, and said: “We’d better finish packing up. It’s twenty-five past five, and I told John we’d get away by six.” “What’s left to pack?” I asked. “Only the mess things, but that’ll take a quarter of an hour, at least. Hi, Firoz!” “Look here, we’d better take a hand at washing up these things. We don’t want to pack ’em up all dirty,” said I. “I’ll just dip ’em in the stream.” Forsyth had turned Aryenis off the valise and was roping it up. Seeing me with my hands full of plates going to the stream, thirty yards away, she gathered up the remaining cups and saucers and followed. I was on my knees by the stream when she arrived, evidently anxious to help. She said something about that being woman’s work, from which I imagine she thought I might be doing something more useful. However, we finished the job together, and, coming back with the lot washed up, packed them into the _yakhdans_. Then we roped on the last loads, and cast a final glance over everything. Firoz brought up the spare camel and made it kneel down. You remember it had a riding-saddle on. The grunts and gurgles and the long, writhing neck and open mouth rather frightened Aryenis, who drew back a pace. She was evidently not familiar with camels, for she had been looking at them curiously before. At last she asked me what beasts they were. “Camels,” I said. “Have you none in your country?” I had to say the word several times in different forms before she understood it. “Camels. Yes, I have read of them in old books. No, we have none.” I was just going to make the camel get up, having settled her as comfortably as I could in the saddle, when Forsyth told me to mount. “You’d better ride as well, Harry,” he said. “You can see better aloft, and it’ll be company for the lady. It may also be less painful for your face than stumbling along over the stones.”