, Belmont," said the Colonel.

"I think she had a touch of the sun yesterday. Her head aches very
badly."

His voice was strong and thick like his figure.

"I should stay to keep her company, Mr. Belmont," said the little
American old maid; "but I learn that Mrs. Shlesinger finds the ride too
long for her, and has some letters which she must mail to-day, so Mrs.
Belmont will not be lonesome."

"You're very good, Miss Adams. We shall be back, you know, by two
o'clock."

"Is that certain?"

"It must be certain, for we are taking no lunch with us, and we shall be
famished by then."

"Yes, I expect we shall be ready for a hock and seltzer, at any rate,"
said the Colonel. "This desert dust gives a flavour to the worst wine."

"Now, ladies and gentlemen!" cried Mansoor, the dragoman, moving
forward with something of the priest in his flowing garments and smooth,
clean-shaven face. "We must start early that we may return before the
meridial heat of the weather." He ran his dark eyes over the little
group of his tourists with a paternal expression. "You take your green
glasses, Miss Adams, for glare very great out in the desert. Ah, Mr.
Stuart, I set aside very fine donkey for you,--prize donkey, sir, always
put aside for the gentleman of most weight. Never mind to take your
monument ticket to-day. Now, ladies and gentlemen, if _you_ please!"

Like a grotesque frieze the party moved one by one along the plank
gangway and up the brown crumbling bank. Mr. Stephens led them, a thin,
dry, serious figure, in an English straw hat. His red "Baedeker" gleamed
under his arm, and in one hand he held a little paper of notes, as if it
were a brief. He took Miss Sadie by one arm and her aunt by the other
as they toiled up the bank, and the young girl's laughter rang frank
and clear in the morning air as "Baedeker" came fluttering down at their
feet. Mr. Belmont and Colonel Cochrane followed, the brims of their
sun-hats touching as they discussed the relative advantages of the
Mauser, the Lebel, and the Lee-Metford. Behind them walked Cecil Brown,
listless, cynical, self-contained. The fat clergyman puffed slowly up
the bank, with many gasping witticisms at his own defects. "I'm one of
those men who carry everything before them," said he, glancing ruefully
at his rotundity, and chuckling wheezily at his own little joke. Last
of all came Headingly, slight and tall, with the student stoop about his
shoulders, and Fardet, the good-na