THE FLIGHT FROM TAJ 249 



fodder sacks. We now had one suit-case, a sack of 

 provisions and two rolls of bedding. "We might put 

 the gi'ound sheets in the bedding," I said casually, look- 

 ing round the pathetically small pile of our belongings 

 to see if we could possibly do without anything else. 

 "Your flea-bag is the thinnest. We had better put 

 it in between the flaps." I thought there was a certain 

 nervousness in Hassanein's eyes as we undid the bulky 

 roll, but I did not quite understand it, even when a 

 bottle of amber eau-de-Cologne and an immense attache 

 case fell out, scattering a complete manicure set in the 

 sand, I was quite used to this sort of thing by now, 

 but I was mildly surprised when a violent protest fol- 

 lowed my efforts to insert the waterproof sheet. "Take 

 care! Take care! You will hurt yourself!" "What on 

 earth do you mean? Woollen flea-bags don't bite!" The 

 thought struck us both instantaneously that this was 

 hardly correct at the moment and we were both laugh- 

 ing when suddenly a pain that could hardly have been 

 inflicted by even the largest Libyan bug shot through 

 my hand. "What is that?" I gasped, and pulled 

 out a very large, sharp saw! For one horrible moment 

 I thought my companion had developed tendencies to 

 homicidal mania as I stood open-mouthed with the tool 

 in my hand. "I've hidden that damned thing in my 

 bedding for three months and whenever I turned over 

 it ran into my shoulder and I've cut myself on it three 

 times!" he said viciously. "But why, why, why?" I 

 could only stutter. "I thought it would be so useful," 

 was the reply. Visions of the treeless desert, with no tuft 

 of moss or blade of grass, must have crossed both our 

 minds simultaneously, for almost before I could ask 

 feebly, "What did you mean to cut?" he said, "I don't 

 know. I just felt it would come in useful — ^to make things 

 with," he added hastily under my baleful eye. "But I 



