"Irregular camel cavalry," Crawford amended gently.
"They've kidnapped me and my staff. I demand that you intercede, if
you have any influence with them."
"What were you doing?" Crawford was frowning at the other. Actually,
he had no idea of the circumstances under which the probably
overenthusiastic Tuareg troopers had rounded up the American medical
man.
"Doing? You know perfectly well I represent the American Medical
Relief. My team has been in the vicinity of Silet, working with the
nomads. The country is rife with everything from rickets to syphilis!
Eighty per cent of these people suffer from trachoma. My team--"
"Just a moment," Moroka said. "You mean out in those two trucks you
have a complete American medical setup? Assistants and all?"
Smythe said stiffly, "I have two American nurses with me and four
Algerians recruited in Oran. This sort of interference with my work is
insufferable and--"
The South African was staring at Homer Crawford.
Cliff Jackson cleared his throat. "It seems as though El Hassan has
just acquired a Department of Health."
"El Hassan?" Smythe stuttered. "What, what?"