Never had a better equipped caravan1 left the gates of Mekran to cross the Gedrusian Desert in the direction of Kelat and civilization. The palanquins of the dromedaries were so comfortable that Aunt Lucy declared she felt as if on shipboard. The horses were the finest the famous monastery2 of Mehmet had ever bred; the pack animals bore tents and material for the nightly camp that would have been worthy3 the great Alexander himself, and everything that might contribute to the comfort and even luxury of the travellers had been provided with a liberal hand. Here were the twenty Afghans, too, glad of the chance to return to their own country again; but of the former party some were missing and some had been added.
Dirrag was the guide, this time, and the faithful fellow lost no opportunity to implore4 Howard Osborne to take him along to America. “Your Highness will need a bodyguard,” he argued, “so why not take me, whom you may trust?”
“We don’t use body guards in America, Dirrag,” was the laughing answer.
“But we have such things as true friends—when we can get them,” said Janet, brightly; “so I shall insist upon having my old warrior5 by my side, wherever we may go.”
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