Marching Sands
Then he walked back silently to the tent, beckoning Mirai Khan to follow.
"Have you the camels?" he asked when they were seated on the tattered rug that formed the tent floor.
"No, Excellency. The camels may not be hired."
"Then buy them."
Mirai Khan yawned and regarded his master with the benevolent scrutiny of the fatalist.
"It may not be. There were but eight two-hump camels in Ansichow, and these the Englishman bartered when he first came, in exchange for his tired beasts. He paid well."
"Well, buy the camels he left."
"That would be folly. A week must pass before these eight can bear burdens. They are nearly dead with hard use. The Englishman did not spare them."
Gray frowned meditatively. He must have beasts of burden, to carry at least ten days' stock of water, with necessary food. The Gobi was a barren land.
"Do you think a trader's caravan may visit Ansichow, Mirai Khan?"
"Perhaps. In another moon, or possibly three or four. Why should they come to this dung-heap in the sand?"
"Coolies might carry our supplies—if we paid them enough." Gray knew that this would be risky; but he was not in a position to choose. Time was
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