"Young Miss is not interested in the caravan?" he asked curiously.
"No," she replied shortly, and asked for some details connected with her own expedition. The man talked easily and well, in fluent language of Earth Country, and after giving the required information, he gave a short narrative relating to various well-known people whom he had guided in the desert. Hana watched him interestedly. He seemed a man of about middle age, though it was difficult to guess more than approximately, for the thick, peaked beard that hid both mouth and chin made him look older than he really was. His beard had been his only drawback from Hana's point of view, for she judged men by their mouths. Eyes were untrustworthy evidences of character, for they usually fluctuates under high-profiles foreigners. Akatsuchi were wavering now as she looked at him, and it occurred to her that they had not seemed nearly familiarise to each other in Iwagakure when she had a deal with him. But she attached no importance to the thought, and dismissed it as much less interesting than the great difference displayed in their respective modes of riding.
The Suna's exaggeratedly short stirrup would have given her agonies of cramp. She pointed the difference with a laugh of amusement and drew the man on to speak of his horses. The one Hana was riding was an unusually fine beast, and had been one of the greatest points in the guide's favour when he had brought it for her inspection. He was enthusiastic in its praise, but became vague marked with unease when asked about it's origin, she deduced that the animal had either been stolen or acquired in some irregular manner and that it would be tactless to pursue further inquiries. After all it was no business of hers. It was enough that her trip was to be conducted on the back of a horse that it was a pleasure to ride and whose unusual behaviour promised to give interest to what otherwise might have been monotonous. Some of the horses that she had seen in Iwagakure had been severelybroken-down.
She asked Akatsuchi about the country which they were going as they are now nearly at the boarder, but he did not seem to have much information that was really of interest, or what seemed important to him appeared trivial to her, and he constantly brought the conversation back to Iwagakure, of which she was tired, or to some village of the Earth Country, of which she knew nothing.
The arrival at a little oasis on the border where the guide suggested that the midday halt might be made was suitable. Hana swung to the ground, and, tossing down her gloves, gave herself a shake. It was hot work riding in the burning sun and the rest would be delightful. She had a thoroughly healthy appetite, and superintended the laying out of her lunch with interest. It was the last time that it would be as delightfully packed. Udon was an artist with a picnic basket. She was going to miss Udon. She finished her lunch quickly, and then, with her back propped against a palm tree, her arms clasped round her knees, she settled down happily, overlooking the desert. The noontime hush seemed over everything. Not a breath of wind stirred the tops of the palms; a lizard on a rock near her was the only living thing she could see. She glanced over her shoulder. The men, with their big cloaks drawn over their heads, were lying asleep, or at any rate appeared to be so; only Akatsuchi was on foot, standing at the edge of the oasis, staring fixedly in the direction in which they would ride later.