The camping-place appeared to be untenanted. Royson found the
footprints of gazelles wherever the sand had collected in a hollow, but
the animals must have scampered away unseen towards the barren hills
near at hand. Through an occasional gap there were glimpses of the
mighty ramparts of Abyssinia. It was hard to realize that the dainty
gazelle could find food in this desolate land. Yet, with the inborn
instinct of the hunter and scout, Royson unslung his carbine and held
it across the saddle-bow as he urged his horse slightly in front of the
short-striding Somali. When he drew rein he rose in the stirrups to
peer through the barrier of thorns.
"First come, first served," he cried joyously. "We have the forage to
ourselves, Miss Fenshawe. I shall be sorry for any others who come this
way after our host has passed. Look at it now. It is an absolute army.
We shall strip this poor little garden of the desert as locusts are
said to eat up a cornfield."
Irene slipped from the saddle, loosened the girths, and then glanced at
the distant caravan, which had just become visible again on the sky-
line of the plateau.
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