noon
The sand would yield up its secrets only under the stars , she said , and wished to wait until they should be in the tents . All night , outside Victoria 's open but shuttered window , there was a stealthy stirring of animals in the dark , a gliding of ghostly ducks , a breathing of sheep and camels . And sometimes the wild braying of a donkey or the yelp of a dog tore the silence to pieces . The next day was hot ; so that at noon , when they stopped to eat , the round blot of black shadow under one small tree was precious as a black pearl . And there were flies . Victoria could not understand how they lived in the desert , miles from any house , miles from the tents of nomads ; where there was no vegetation , except an occasional scrubby tree , or a few of the desert gourds which the Arabs use to cure the bite of scorpions . But she had not seen the cages of bones , sometimes bleached like old ivory , sometimes of a dreadful red , which told of wayside tragedies .