Thus, one bright morning, the caravan set forth for what was believed to be the last journey.
And Umballa's spy hastened away.
All day long they wound in and out, over and down the rolling mounds of sand, pausing only once, somewhere near four o'clock, when they dismounted for a space to enjoy a bite to eat and a cup of tea.

Then on again, through the night, making about sixty miles in all.

At dawn they came upon a well, and here they decided to rest till sunset.
Beyond the well, some twenty-five miles, lay the low mountain range over which they must pass to the sea.

At the foot of these hills stood a small village, which they reached about ten o'clock that night.
They found the village wide awake.

The pariah dogs were howling.