And the thought that the faithful orderly's body was now lying on the flaming sands, hundreds of miles away--that it was already a prey to jackals, kites, and buzzards--sickened his shuddering heart and filled him with remorse.
"Allah send a storm of sand--_jinnee_ to bury the poor chap, that's all I can wish now!" he pondered, as he studied the strange yellowish and orange tints in utmost horizon distances.

The air, over the shimmering peaks, seemed of a different quality from that elsewhere.
To north, to west, the desert rim of the world veiled itself in magic blue, mysteriously dim.

But there, it glowed in golden hues.

What, thought the Master, might be the meaning of all this?
The Master had no time for speculation.

The urgent problem of locating the Bara Jannati Shahr, beyond that inhospitable sierra, banished thoughts of all else.