e, and--I'm out of it!'

The Nilghai commanded silence in vain. 'That's for my sake,' Dick said
bitterly. 'The birds are getting ready to fly, and they wouldn't
tell me. I can hear Morten-Sutherland and Mackaye. Half the War
Correspondents in London are there;--and I'm out of it.'

He stumbled across the landing and plunged into Torpenhow's room. He
could feel that it was full of men. 'Where's the trouble?' said he. 'In
the Balkans at last? Why didn't some one tell me?'

'We thought you wouldn't be interested,' said the Nilghai, shamefacedly.

'It's in the Soudan, as usual.'

'You lucky dogs! Let me sit here while you talk. I shan't be a skeleton
at the feast.--Cassavetti, where are you? Your English is as bad as
ever.'

Dick was led into a chair. He heard the rustle of the maps, and the talk
swept forward, carrying him with it. Everybody spoke at once, discussing
press censorships, railway-routes, transport, water-supply, the
capacities of generals,--these in language that would have horrified a
trusting public,--rangint, asserting, denouncing, and laughing at the
top of their voices. There was the glorious certainty of war in the
Soudan at any moment. The Nilghai said so, and it was well to be in
readiness. The Keneu had telegraphed to Cairo for horses; Cassavetti
had stolen a perfectly inaccurate list of troops that would be ordered
forward, and was reading it out amid profane interruptions, and the
Keneu introduced to Dick some man unknown who would be employed as war
artist by the Central Southern Syndicate. 'It's his first outing,' said
the Keneu. 'Give him some tips--about riding camels.'

'Oh, those camels!' groaned Cassavetti. 'I shall learn to ride him
again, and now I am so much all soft! Listen, you good fellows. I know
your military arrangement very well. There will go the Royal Argalshire
Sutherlanders. So it was read to me upon best authority.'

A roar of laughter interrupted him.

'Sit down,' said the Nilghai. 'The lists aren't even made out in the War
Office.'

'Will there be any force at Suakin?' aid a voice.

Then the outcries redoubled, and grew mixed, thus: 'How many Egyptian
troops will they use?--God help the Fellaheen!--There's a railway
in Plumstead marshes doing duty as a fives-court.--We shall have the
Suakin-Berber line built at last.--Canadian voyageurs are too careful.
Give me a half-drunk Krooman in a whale-boat.--Who commands the Desert
column?--No, they never blew up the big