es, and the burning desert sun beat down upon his
bare head, for he had lost both hat and umbrella in the scuffle.
A rising fever flecked his large, white cheeks with a touch of colour,
and brought a light into his brown ox-eyes. He had always seemed a
somewhat gross and vulgar person to his fellow-travellers. Now, this
bitter healing draught of sorrow had transformed him. He was purified,
spiritualised, exalted. He had become so calmly strong that he made the
others feel stronger as they looked upon him. He spoke of life and of
death, of the present, and their hopes of the future; and the black
cloud of their misery began to show a golden rift or two. Cecil Brown
shrugged his shoulders, for he could not change in an hour the
convictions of his life; but the others, even Fardet, the Frenchman,
were touched and strengthened. They all took off their hats when he
prayed. Then the Colonel made a turban out of his red silk cummerbund,
and insisted that Mr. Stuart should wear it. With his homely dress and
gorgeous headgear, he looked like a man who has dressed up to amuse the
children.

And now the dull, ceaseless, insufferable torment of thirst was added to
the aching weariness which came from the motion of the camels. The sun
glared down upon them, and then up again from the yellow sand, and the
great plain shimmered and glowed until they felt as if they were riding
over a cooling sheet of molten metal. Their lips were parched and
dried, and their tongues like tags of leather. They lisped curiously in
their speech, for it was only the vowel sounds which would come without
an effort. Miss Adams's chin had dropped upon her chest, and her great
hat concealed her face.

"Auntie will faint if she does not get water," said Sadie. "Oh, Mr.
Stephens, is there nothing we could do?"

The Dervishes riding near were all Baggara with the exception of one
negro--an uncouth fellow with a face pitted with small-pox.
His expression seemed good-natured when compared with that of his Arab
comrades, and Stephens ventured to touch his elbow and to point to his
water-skin, and then to the exhausted lady. The negro shook his head
brusquely, but at the same time he glanced significantly towards the
Arabs, as if to say that, if it were not for them, he might act
differently. Then he laid his black forefinger upon the breast of his
jibbeh.

"Tippy Tilly," said he.

"What's that?" asked Colonel Cochrane.

"Tippy Tilly," repea