"Now," he added, "run for
your lives; I thought I heard two _afreets_ talking up there just now
of what they would do to any followers of the Prophet who mocked their
gods, if perchance they should meet them in their holy place at night."
This kindly counsel was accepted with much eagerness. In another minute
Smith was alone with the stars and the dying desert wind.
Collecting his goods, or as many of them as he wanted, he thrust them
into the pockets of the great-coat and returned to the mouth of the
tomb. Here he made his simple meal by the light of the lantern, and
afterwards tried to go to sleep. But sleep he could not. Something
always woke him. First it was a jackal howling amongst the rocks; next
a sand-fly bit him in the ankle so sharply that he thought he must have
been stung by a scorpion. Then, notwithstanding his warm coat, the
cold got hold of him, for the clothes beneath were wet through with
perspiration, and it occurred to him that unless he did something he
would probably contract an internal chill or perhaps fever. He rose and
walked about.
By now the moon was up, revealing all the sad, wild scene in its every
detail. The mystery of Egypt entered his soul and oppressed him.
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