ed of seven large and two
small saucerlike cavities filled with peat-coloured water enough to form
a plentiful supply for any caravan. Camels and men drank it greedily,
though it was tainted by the all-pervading natron. The camels were
picketed, the Arabs threw their sleeping-mats down in the shade, and
the prisoners, after receiving a ration of dates and of doora, were told
that they might do what they would during the heat of the day, and that
the Moolah would come to them before sunset. The ladies were given the
thicker shade of an acacia tree, and the men lay down under the palms.
The great green leaves swished slowly above them; they heard the low hum
of the Arab talk, and the dull champing of the camels, and then in an
instant, by that most mysterious and least understood of miracles, one
was in a green Irish valley, and another saw the long straight line
of Commonwealth Avenue, and a third was dining at a little round table
opposite to the bust of Nelson in the Army and Navy Club, and for
him the swishing of the palm branches had been transformed into the
long-drawn hum of Pall Mall. So the spirits went their several ways,
wandering back along strange, untraced tracks of the memory, while the
weary, grimy bodies lay senseless under the palm-trees in the Oasis of
the Libyan Desert.

[Illustration: Grimy bodies lay senseless under the palm-trees p188]

CHAPTER VIII

Colonel Cochrane was awakened from his slumber by some one pulling at
his shoulder. As his eyes opened they fell upon the black, anxious face
of Tippy Tilly, the old Egyptian gunner. His crooked finger was laid
upon his thick, liver-coloured lips, and his dark eyes glanced from left
to right with ceaseless vigilance.

"Lie quiet! Do not move!" he whispered, in Arabic. "I will lie here
beside you, and they cannot tell me from the others. You can understand
what I am saying?"

"Yes, if you will talk slowly."

"Very good. I have no great trust in this black man, Mansoor. I had
rather talk direct with the Miralai."

"What have you to say?"

"I have waited long, until they should all be asleep, and now in another
hour we shall be called to evening prayer. First of all, here is a
pistol, that you may not say that you are without arms."

It was a clumsy, old-fashioned thing, but the Colonel saw the glint of a
percussion-cap upon the nipple, and knew that it was loaded. He slipped
it into the inner pocket of his Norfolk jacket.

"Thank you,"