As was his habit, Hamal went ahead of the caravan and looked for a high observation point, for control reasons but also because he was pleased to observe the displacement of what constituted his fortune. He had noticed that the indigenous muleteers were muttering to each other and looked nervous, but he had not been able to find out the reason, since he scarcely spoke their language.
Among the snow-capped peaks that lay before them stood the perfect cone of the volcano that was marked on their map. Beyond the volcano stretched a completely different panorama, separated by a river of considerable width, and the Afghan hoped to meet his clients in one of the villages outside the Park.