Копи царя Соломона
Our March into the Desert
Ihaveseenhimenclosedinamber,whichis,Iwastold,quitehalfamillionyearsold,lookingexactlylikehisdescendantoftoday, andIhavelittledoubtbutthatwhenthelastmanliesdyingontheearthhewillbebuzzinground—ifthiseventhappenstooccurinsummer—watchingforanopportunitytosettleonhisnose.
Atsunsetwehalted,waitingforthemoontorise. Atlastshecameup,beautifulandsereneasever, and,withonehaltabouttwoo’clockinthemorning,wetrudgedonwearilythroughthenight,tillatlastthewelcomesunputaperiodtoourlabours. Wedrankalittleandflungourselvesdownonthesand,thoroughlytiredout,andsoonwereallasleep. Therewasnoneedtosetawatch,forwehadnothingtofearfromanybodyoranythinginthatvastuntenantedplain. Ouronlyenemieswereheat,thirst,andflies, butfarratherwouldIhavefacedanydangerfrommanorbeastthanthatawfultrinity. Thistimewewerenotsoluckyastofindashelteringrocktoguardusfromtheglareofthesun, withtheresultthataboutseveno’clockwewokeupexperiencingtheexactsensationsonewouldattributetoabeefsteakonagridiron. Wewereliterallybeingbakedthroughandthrough. Theburningsunseemedtobesuckingourverybloodoutofus. Wesatupandgasped.
"Phew,"saidI,grabbingatthehaloofflieswhichbuzzedcheerfullyroundmyhead. Theheatdidnotaffectthem.
"Myword!"saidSirHenry.
"Itishot!"echoedGood.
