dams either. They are not made for this sort of thing either of
them. Then again we must not forget that these people have a trick of
murdering their prisoners when they see that there is a chance of a
rescue. See here, Belmont, in case you get back and I don't, there's a
matter of a mortgage that I want you to set right for me." They rode on
with their shoulders inclined to each other, deep in the details of
business.

The friendly negro who had talked of himself as Tippy Tilly had managed
to slip a piece of cloth soaked in water into the hand of Mr. Stephens,
and Miss Adams had moistened her lips with it. Even the few drops had
given her renewed strength, and now that the first crushing shock was
over, her wiry, elastic, Yankee nature began to reassert itself.

"These people don't look as if they would harm us, Mr. Stephens," said
she. "I guess they have a working religion of their own, such as it is,
and that what's wrong to us is wrong to them."

Stephens shook his head in silence. He had seen the death of the
donkey-boys, and she had not.

"Maybe we are sent to guide them into a better path," said the old lady.
"Maybe we are specially singled out for a good work among them."

If it were not for her niece her energetic and enterprising temperament
was capable Of glorying in the chance of evangelising Khartoum, and
turning Omdurman into a little well-drained broad-avenued replica of a
New England town.

"Do you know what I am thinking of all the time?" said Sadie.
"You remember that temple that we saw--when was it? Why, it was this
morning."

They gave an exclamation of surprise, all three of them. Yes, it had
been this morning; and it seemed away and away in some dim past
experience of their lives, so vast was the change, so new and so
overpowering the thoughts which had come between. They rode in silence,
full of this strange expansion of time, until at last Stephens reminded
Sadie that she had left her remark unfinished.

"Oh yes; it was the wall picture on that temple that I was thinking of.
Do you remember the poor string of prisoners who are being dragged along
to the feet of the great king--how dejected they looked among the
warriors who led them? Who could--who _could_ have thought that within
three hours the same fate should be our own? And Mr. Headingly--"
She turned her face away and began to cry.

"Don't take on, Sadie," said her aunt; "remember what the minister said
just now, that