the Colonel, but it is not possible that a man should be fitted
for everything. It will all come to nothing if he attempts it.
The priest will see through the Colonel."

"Will he?" said the Colonel with dignity.

"Yes, my friend, he will, for, like most of your countrymen, you are
very wanting in sympathy for the ideas of other people, and it is the
great fault which I find with you as a nation."

"Oh, drop the politics!" cried Belmont impatiently.

"I do not talk politics. What I say is very practical. How can Colonel
Cochrane pretend to this priest that he is really interested in his
religion when, in effect, there is no religion in the world to him
outside some little church in which he has been born and bred? I will
say this for the Colonel, that I do not believe he is at all a
hypocrite, and I am sure that he could not act well enough to deceive
such a man as this priest."

The Colonel sat with a very stiff back and the blank face of a man who
is not quite sure whether he is being complimented or insulted.

"You can do the talking yourself if you like," said he at last.
"I should he very glad to be relieved of it."

"I think that I am best fitted for it, since I am equally interested in
all creeds. When I ask for information, it is because in verity I
desire it, and not because I am playing a part."

"I certainly think that it would be much better if Monsieur Fardet would
undertake it," said Mrs. Belmont with decision, and so the matter was
arranged.

The sun was now high, and it shone with dazzling brightness upon the
bleached bones which lay upon the road. Again the torture of thirst
fell upon the little group of survivors, and again, as they rode with
withered tongues and crusted lips, a vision of the saloon of the
_Korosko_ danced like a mirage before their eyes, and they saw the white
napery, the wine-cards by the places, the long necks of the bottles, the
siphons upon the sideboard. Sadie, who had borne up so well, became
suddenly hysterical, and her shrieks of senseless laughter jarred
horribly upon their nerves. Her aunt on one side of her, and Mr.
Stephens on the other, did all they could to soothe her, and at last the
weary, overstrung girl relapsed into something between a sleep and a
faint, hanging limp over her pommel, and only kept from falling by the
friends who clustered round her. The baggage-camels were as weary as
their riders, and again and again they had to jerk at their nose