wer-baths.

Three-quarters of an hour later found Mac, suitably adorned, sitting on
a bench at Helmeih Station having his boots and bandolier polished by
four jabbering, disreputable "Gyppie" youngsters, who swore glibly the
while the most lurid English oaths. Incidentally, they often
terminated an exceptionally fluent flow with "Eh, Mistah Mickkenzie?"
the usual mode of native address to New Zealanders after the High
Commissioner's visit, which sometimes ruffled Mac's dignity, but more
often amused him. His toilet was cut short by the arrival of the
train, so, seizing bandolier and spurs and dropping a few coins, he
jumped into a second-class compartment with but one boot clean of
desert sand. Rattling through Palais de Koubbeh and Demerdache, he
considered what he might do with himself now he had quitted camp.
Money was not so plentiful as in those palmy days when they had set
foot in this Orient land with two months' pay behind them. "Special
prices," too, were quoted for these men from the south. However, it
was a lot of trouble to think on such an afternoon; he would decide it
later. At any rate a shave was felt to be the most overpowering
necessity, though, really, the desert did make one thirsty! A shave
would be the second item.

In a small inferior cafe near the Boulak Station, he discovered Jock,
an artilleryman he knew, and together they satisfied their thirst;
neither had formed any plan for the afternoon, so both welcomed the
idea of spending it in company. They adjourned to the barber's.
Shaving in Sahara sand appealed not to Mac's heart, and, failing visits
to Cairo, mornings found him in an evil mood with a painful task before
him.

Shaving over, and Mac's other boot cleaned, a little sight-seeing was
suggested as a modest and inexpensive way of passing the afternoon.
The Pyramids were stale, besides being a dickens of a distance off.
The gunner voted for the Citadel, and Mac didn't mind, though he had
been there once already. They made their way towards a gharry stand,
and, spurning clamouring drivers from their path, comfortably seated
themselves in the one which appeared to sport the best pair of Arab
horses. Their feet supported upon the opposite seat, blue wisps of the
best Egyptian tobacco smoke trailing over the hood behind, they set
off. Scanning the Oriental life surging round them, criticizing Arab
methods of dressing sheep, amused by the scribes and
money-changers--dirty though