Explore "The Tragedy of the Korosko" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The Camel Corps had all passed onwards down the khor in pursuit of the retreating Dervishes, and for a few minutes the escaped prisoners had been left alone. But now there came a cheery voice calling upon them, and a red turban bobbed about among the rocks, with the large white face of the Nonconformist minister smiling from beneath it. He had a thick lance with which to support his injured leg, and this murderous crutch combined with his peaceful appearance to give him a most incongruous aspect -- as of a sheep which has suddenly developed claws. Behind him were two negroes with a basket and a water-skin.
"Not a word! Not a word! " he cried, as he stumped up to them. "I know exactly how you feel. I've been there myself. Bring the water, Ali! Only half a cup, Miss Adams; you shall have some more presently. Now your turn, Mrs. Belmont! Dear me, dear me, you poor souls, how my heart does bleed for you! There's bread and meat in the basket, but you must be very moderate at first. " He chuckled with joy, and slapped his fat hands together as he watched them.