I pointed it out to the others, and after a few minutes we agreed that it moved against the wind.
"They're hurrying again," said Brown, peering under both hands.
"There's no feed for cattle on all this plain.

They're racing to get to short grass before the cattle all die.

Come on--let's hurry after 'em!" For the second time on that trip we essayed a short cut, making as straight as a bee would fly for the point on the horizon where we knew the Greeks to be.

And for the second time we fell into a bog, nearly losing our lives in it.

We had to pull one another out, using even our precious rifles as supports in the yielding mud, and then spending equally precious time in cleaning locks and sights again.
After that we hunted for the cattle trail and followed that closely; and that was not so easy as it reads, because the trampled grass had risen again, and cattle and mounted men can cross easily ground that delays men on foot.
The heat was that of an oven.