endeavouring to persuade Jock's mount to proceed less swiftly, Mac
quietly took a turning to the left. The Arab went twenty-five yards
farther before he missed him. In violent excitement he tore after him
and besought him to stop.

"All right, you black diamond," said Mac cheerfully, and remained
standing in the street.

The Arab, his fears at rest, chased the other soldier, but as soon as
the native had disappeared round the corner, Mac moved on again. The
same thing happened in the case of the gunner, who halted immediately
the Arab arrived. The latter wanted to lead the donkey in the
direction of the trooper, but the gunner was obstinate and insisted
that his was the correct way. In a frame of mind too horrible to
contemplate, the Arab disappeared once more in pursuit of the trooper,
only to find he had entirely evaporated. In the throes of the greatest
dilemma of his life he returned, to learn that the worst had come to
pass and the gunner and his donkey also were gone from his sight.

"Allah! Oh, Allah!" he wailed, and, burying his head in his long blue
skirts, he dissolved into tears.

By devious ways Mac and Jock journeyed onwards, until, happy and
laughing at having for once done a nigger in the eye, they rejoined at
the Obelisk Restaurant, where they turned their borrowed steeds adrift.
Coming weekly as it did, dinner in Cairo was an affair of some length,
and, between shandies and cigarettes, it was already late when it was
_mafeesh_. They strolled along the streets and were about to drop into
the Cafe Egyptien, when they espied a fellow-countryman struggling with
a donkey. They went to his assistance, to discover that the donk-man
was, quite unnecessarily, attempting to stop a bottle of beer being
poured down the donk's throat. This promised sport, so Jock quickly
procured four more bottles of cheap beer and they joined the third
soldier in his estimable effort. Abdul had secured an assistant
against this vile outrage to his animal, but he was temporarily put out
of action by having the reins made fast round his lower extremities.

The donk rapidly absorbed three bottles, while the distracted "Gyppies"
tugged and wailed, "No gude! No gude! Finish Noo Zealand!" to which
the only reply was "Imshi Yallah, you black devils." At this stage the
little beast, an animal of rather miserable dimensions, with a large,
rotund centrepiece, escaped and wobbled ridiculously down the street.
He was recaptu