Mayouf felt close to the American hospital. He thought, ever since he got on the lorry, that he had gone too far, but he was only three beats away. This mysterious ringing would take him to the American. Mayouf thought again: the ringing had been mysterious when he listened to it every morning, coming from the Bedouin houses as he sat on the curved trunk of the tamarisk tree, but it was no longer mysterious as long as it took him to Evelyn, Adam, and the Hill of Happiness. All three deliberate, regular beats away. He continued running, the enchanting sound of the ringing drowning out the sounds of his feet scraping against the sand and plants, his distraction, the pounding of his heart in his chest, and the calls of those behind him. The desert and the darkness disappeared behind him, and the American hospital, the trees of the hill, and Evelyn's face emerged from among three strong, deliberate, regular beats, followed by several weak, successive beats.