Summary

Harry W. French The Lance of Kanana: A Story of Arabia

It was a foolish hope, no doubt, and yet Kanana hoped that anything so large as a great caravan might still be distinguishable.
Up, up, up he climbed—as fast as hands and feet could carry him. He no longer felt the cool air of early morning. He no longer looked about him to see the new sights of a strange oasis.
He did not even pause to look away over the desert as he climbed. The highest point was none too high. He did not care how far he could see until he had gained the white tomb of Aaron, upon the very crest.
Source: Gutenberg

Harry W. French The Lance of Kanana: A Story of Arabia

His long, black shadow fell over the silver sand, and, watching it, he chanted the Koran again:
"God is God. Whatever of good betideth thee cometh from him.
"Whatever of evil is thine own doing."
Suddenly a speck appeared upon the distant horizon. None but the keen eye of a shepherd would have seen it, in the night, but Kanana watched it as it quivered and wavered, disappearing as it sank into a valley in the rolling sand, appearing again, like a dory on the ocean, each time a little nearer than before.
Source: Gutenberg

Harry W. French The Lance of Kanana: A Story of Arabia

The pile of stones grew hotter and hotter. The hungry birds ate and quarreled and ate with no one to disturb them. The Bedouin boy sat cross-legged on his perch, heedless of everything, twisting and untwisting the leather cords of his sling, struggling to look into the mists that covered up his destiny.
"Hi, there! you slothful son of a brave father! Look at the birds about you! Are you dead, or only sleeping?" sounded the distant but shrill and painfully distinct voice of an old woman who, with two children much younger than Kanana, occupied the next perch.
Source: Gutenberg

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