XXI
"Nell, can you enumerate our journeys from Fayûm?" Stas asked.
"I can."
Saying this the little maid raised her eyebrows and began to count on her little fingers.
"At once. From Fayûm to Khartûm—that is one; from Khartûm to Fashoda—that is the second; from Fashoda to that ravine in which we found the King—that is the third; and from Mount Linde to the lake—that is the fourth."
"Yes. There probably is not another fly in the world which has flown over such a piece of Africa."
"That fly would look queer without you."
Stas began to laugh.
"A fly on an elephant! A fly on an elephant!"
"But not a tsetse! Honestly, Stas—not a tsetse."
"No," he answered, "a very agreeable fly."
Nell, pleased with the praise, propped her little nose on his arm; after which she asked:
"When shall we start on our fifth journey?"
"As soon as you have rested thoroughly, and I can instruct those men whom Kali has promised to me how to shoot a little."
"And shall we ride long?"
"Long, Nell—long! Who knows whether it will not be the longest journey?"
"And you, as usual, will be equal to it."
