quite still, her fingers raking the warm sand, and under her haughty
stare the guide's eyes wavered and turned away. "We will start when I
choose, Mustafa Ali," she said brusquely. "You may give orders to your
men, but you will take your orders from me. I will tell you when I am
ready. You may go."

Still he hesitated, swaying irresolutely backwards and forwards on his
heels.

Diana snapped her fingers over her shoulder, a trick she had learned
from a French officer in Biskra. "I said go!" she repeated sharply. She
took no notice of his going and did not look back to see what orders he
gave the men. She glanced at her watch again. Perhaps it was growing
late, perhaps the camp was a longer ride than she had thought; but
Mustafa Ali must learn his lesson if they rode till midnight to reach
the oasis. She pushed her obstinate chin out further and then smiled
again suddenly. She hoped that the night would fall before they reached
their destination. There had been one or two moonlight riding picnics
out from Biskra, and the glamour of the desert nights had gone to
Diana's head. This riding into the unknown away from the noisy,
chattering crowd who had spoiled the perfect stillness of the night
would be infinitely more perfect. She gave a little sigh of regret as
she thought of it. It was not really practical. Though she would wait
nearly another hour to allow the fact of her authority to sink into
Mustafa Ali's brain she would have to hasten afterwards to arrive at
the camp before darkness set in. The men were unused to her ways and
she to theirs. She would not have Stephens' help to-night; she would
have to depend on herself to order everything as she wished it, and it
was easier done in daylight. One hour would not make much difference.
The horses had more in them than had been taken out of them this