ddle of the ocean,
anxiously scans the horizon to search for a sail in sight, so did I cast
my eager gaze over the barren sandy waste, to discover if providentially
any succour was at hand. The shades of night melting away before the
rays of the sun, the wished-for oasis appeared in the distance; and by
the marks on the sand, I could not doubt that we had been wandering away
instead of approaching it. How eagerly I looked towards the spot where
I believed the means of reviving our fast-failing strength could be
found! As I gazed at it, it seemed to approach nearer, and tantalised
me the more that I knew that I could not reach it.

The sun rose slowly and majestically in the sky, and his burning rays
began again to strike down upon our heads. Still I kept my senses; but
I felt that death must soon terminate my dear father's sufferings, and
mine as well. Once more I cast my glance round the horizon. I gazed
steadily--I saw a dark object moving in the distance. O how earnestly I
watched it! I could not be mistaken--it was approaching us. As it came
on, I discerned the figure of a man on horseback. He was leading
another animal with a load on his back. Now he seemed to be verging off
to the right hand. He might pass and not observe us. I shouted; but it
was folly to fancy that my feeble voice could reach him. Again he
turned. I saw him dismount and stoop down on the sand. He stopped,
however, but a minute, perhaps not so much, though to me it seemed an
age, and he again mounted and came on. He was directing his course, I
judged, for the oasis. As he came still nearer, I recognised Ithulpo,
and he was leading our baggage mule. I could not doubt, also, but that
he was searching for us. Again I tried to shout, but my voice failed
me. I lifted up my hand and waved it above my head; but I could no
longer stand upright, or I should have attracted his attention. He rode
on. He had already passed, when he turned his head and caught sight of
the handkerchief I was waving in my hand. He spurred on towards us. To
spring from his horse, and to take one of the saddle-bags from the back
of the mule, was the work of a moment. From the saddlebag he produced a
skin of water. Without speaking, he poured out a cup, from which he
allowed a few drops to fall into my father's mouth. When once I felt it
to my lips, I could not withdraw it till I had drained it to the bottom.
The pure draught so much revived me that I co