All we had to guide us was a little traveler's compass (whose needle stuck fast on the pivot with sand) and the glaring sun, when he came to sight behind the hot, dry, driving clouds.

The clouds were very low, and flying almost in our faces, like vultures sweeping down on us.

To me they seemed to shriek over our heads at the others rushing after them.

But my father said that they could make no sound, and I never contradicted him..