The
glass was broken, but the bottle was intact, for the native had caught
it as he fell.
"Ca ne fait rien," she cried encouragingly. Then she found that the
Somali had risen to his knees, and was gazing skyward with every token
of abject terror. At the same instant a strange commotion broke out in
the camp. Through the open side of the tent she saw Europeans and
natives all looking in the one direction--northwards. The Britons and
Arabs had an air of profound astonishment. They pointed and
gesticulated, but otherwise showed self-control. But the negroes were
in a panic. For the most part they were kneeling. A few prostrated
themselves at full length, and howled dolorously.
The girl was alone, and she naturally felt alarmed. Royson was not far
away, and he, like the rest, was held spellbound by some spectacle the
nature of which she could not guess. Perhaps his thoughts were not far
removed from Irene, because he turned and looked at her.
"Come quickly, Miss Fenshawe," he shouted. "Here is the most wonderful
mirage!"
Was that it--a mirage? Why, then, this hubbub? She had grown so
accustomed to the grim humor of the desert in depicting clear streams
of running water, smooth, tree-bordered lakes, and other delightful
objects of which the arid land dreamed in its sleep of death, that the
excitement caused in the camp was wholly inexplicable.
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