Marching Sands
The hunters showed them to Gray, who thought at first the imprints were left by the Hastings' caravan. Mirai Khan, however, assured him that the tracks had not been there the evening before. Also, the hoof marks were smaller than those of the domestic camel, and not quite as deep in the sand.
Mirai Khan showed him where the tracks appeared, and passed around the camp twice, then led away over the dunes.
"It is the mark of a wild camel, Excellency," he said. "Of one that has come to look at us."
"And why should this not happen?"
Mirai Khan scratched his thin beard, plainly uneasy.
"It is a good omen," continued Gray, perceiving this. "For by this wild camel we may have meat."
He had heard that these animals, although rare, were sometimes seen in the southern Gobi. Beyond wishing that this particular camel had waited until the light was good enough for a shot, Gray thought little of the matter. Not so the Kirghiz. The hunters conferred earnestly with Mirai Khan and appeared reluctant to go on.
"If you see the beast," he added, impatient at the delay, "we shall try a stalk. We need meat."
Mirai Khan grunted and spat stolidly.
"Never have I shot a wild camel, Excellency. My father has said that when we sighted the tracks of one, it is well to return quickly."
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