ging, and they
were losing the long levels of the pebbly desert, and coming once more
upon those fantastic, sunburned, black rocks, and that rich orange sand
through which they had already passed. On every side of them rose the
scaly, conical hills with their loose, slag-like debris, and
jagged-edged khors, with sinuous streams of sand running like
water-courses down their centre. The camels followed each other,
twisting in and out among the boulders, and scrambling with their
adhesive, spongy feet over places which would have been impossible for
horses. Among the broken rocks those behind could sometimes only see
the long, undulating, darting necks of the creatures in front, as if it
were some nightmare procession of serpents. Indeed, it had much the
effect of a dream upon the prisoners, for there was no sound, save the
soft, dull padding and shuffling of the feet. The strange, wild frieze
moved slowly and silently onwards amid a setting of black stone and
yellow sand, with the one arch of vivid blue spanning the rugged edges
of the ravine.

Miss Adams, who had been frozen into silence during the long cold night,
began to thaw now in the cheery warmth of the rising sun. She looked
about her, and rubbed her thin hands together.

"Why, Sadie," she remarked, "I thought I heard you in the night, dear,
and now I see that you have been crying."

"I've been thinking, auntie."

"Well, we must try and think of others, dearie, and not of ourselves."

"It's not of myself, auntie."

"Never fret about me, Sadie."

"No, auntie, I was not thinking of you."

"Was it of any one in particular?"

"Of Mr. Stephens, auntie. How gentle he was, and how brave! To think
of him fixing up every little thing for us, and trying to pull his
jacket over his poor roped-up hands, with those murderers waiting all
round him. He's my saint and hero from now ever after."

"Well, he's out of his troubles anyhow," said Miss Adams, with that
bluntness which the years bring with them.

"Then I wish I was also."

"I don't see how that would help him."

"Well, I think he might feel less lonesome," said Sadie, and drooped her
saucy little chin upon her breast.

The four had been riding in silence for some little time, when the
Colonel clapped his hand to his brow with a gesture of dismay.

"Good God!" he cried, "I am going off my head."

Again and again they had perceived it during the night, but he had
seemed quite rational since d