them in the day of trouble asking help, and then scuttled away and
deserted their allies, leaving them to face alone the Power whose wrath
and vengeance their help-giving had provoked. Yet there were good men
among them--there was Kafil[43] Bey for example. Kafil Bey whose last
noble fight he had witnessed. If the fair-faced Sheikh had any of the
weak English blood in his veins it must be of such a man as Kafil Bey.

[43] Corfield?

Was he still swimming? Had he been picked up? Was he shark's food? To
think that _he_ should have come to his death over such a thing as a
slave boy (albeit a Somali and no Hubshi).

This was an Emir indeed.

An idea!... He called aloud: "Are you there, Master? The _toni_ is loose
and must be near," again and again, louder and louder. Perhaps he was
following and would hear. Again, louder still.

The one-eyed man, disturbed by the cry, stirred, threw his arms abroad,
stretched, and put his foot on the mouth of a neighbour lying
head-to-foot beside him. The neighbour snored loudly and turned his face
sideways under the foot. He had slept standing jammed against the wall
in the Idris of Omdurman, one of the most terrible jails of all time,
and a huge foot on his face was a matter of no moment.

The Tanga tout suddenly emitted a scream, a blood-curdling scream, and
immediately scratched his ribs like a monkey.... Moussa Isa held his
peace.

Anon the scar-faced man turned over, moving others.

Could it be near dawn already, and were his proprietors waking up? He
could see no change in the East, no paling of the lustrous stars. Was it
an hour ago or eight hours ago that the night had fallen? Had he an hour
to live or a night? Would he ever see Berbera again, steer a boat down
its deep inlet, gaze upon its two lighthouses, its fort, hospital,
barracks, piers, warehouses, bazaars; drive a camel along by its seven
miles of aqueduct, look down from the hills upon this wonderful and
mighty metropolis, greater and grander than Jibuti, Zeyla, Bulhar and
Karam, surely the greatest and most marvellous port and city of the
world, ere driving on through the thorn-bush and acacia-jungle into the
vast waterless Haud? Would he ever again see the sun rise in the desert,
smell the smoke of the camel-dung cooking-fires.... What was that? The
sky was paling in the East, growing grey, a rose-pink flush on the
horizon--dawn and death were at hand.

Before the heralds of the sun, the moon slowly veiled h