Isobel raised her eyebrows. "I didn't mean it to be. Have you ever
been on a camel curd diet?"
"Yes, I have," Moroka said impatiently. He turned back to Homer
Crawford. "How about waylaying an armored car or so, just in the way
of giving the men something exciting to do?"
Crawford ran a hand back through his short hair. "Confound it, Dave,
can you picture what a Recoilless-Brenn gun would do to a harka of our
charging camelmen? We can't let these people be butchered."
"I wasn't thinking of wild charges," Moroka argued.
They had both turned away from Isobel, in their discussion. Now she
looked at them, strangely. And especially at Homer Crawford. His
brusqueness toward her didn't seem the old Homer.
* * * * *
There was a bustle from outside and a guardsman stuck his head in the
tent entrance and reported in Tamaheq that a small camel patrol
approached.
The four of them went out. Coming up were a dozen Tuareg and two motor
vehicles.