A drift of low-hanging wood-smoke, very far away, betrayed the presence of a camp of the Ahl Bayt, the People of the Black Tents.
The buzzer of the Master's phone broke the silence between the two men, a silence undertoned by the throb and hum of the now effectively operating engines.
"Well, what is it ?" the Master queried.
"Promising oasis, _mon capitaine_," came the voice of Leclair from the upper starboard gallery.

"Through my glass I can make out extensive date-palm groves, pomegranate orchards, and gardens.

There must be plenty of water there.

We should take water, eh ?" "Right!" the Master answered.

He got up and turned to Bohannan.
"Major," commanded he, "have Simonds and a crew of six stand by, in the lower gallery, to descend in the nacelle.