Blenkiron bestrode the Arab, being the heaviest, and Peter and I had the screws.
My worst forebodings were soon realized, and Hussin, loping along at my side, had an easy job to keep up with us.

We were about as slow as an ox-wagon.

The brutes were unshod, and with the rough roads I saw that their feet would very soon go to pieces.

We jogged along like a tinker's caravan, about five miles to the hour, as feckless a party as ever disgraced a highroad.
The weather was now a drizzle, which increased my depression.

Cars passed us and disappeared in the mist, going at thirty miles an hour to mock our slowness.