e
Government people sit up, and think what's coming to Egypt and to
him, they'll help him now when he needs it. He'll need help real
bad when he gets back to Cairo--if we get that far. It isn't yet a
sure thing, for we've got to fight in the next day or two--I forgot
to tell you that sooner. There's a bull-Arab on the rampage with
five thousand men, and he's got a claim out on our sheikh, Mustafa,
for ivory he has here, and there's going to be a scrimmage. We've
got to make for a better position to-morrow, and meet Abdullah, the
bull-Arab, further down the river. That's one reason why Mustafa
and all our friends here are so sweet on us now. They look on the
Saadat as a kind of mascot, and they think that he can wipe out the
enemy with his flute, which they believe is a witch-stick to work
wonders.

He's just sent for me to come, and I must stop soon. Say, he hasn't
had sleep for a fortnight. It's too much; he can't stand it. I
tried it, and couldn't. It wore me down. He's killing himself for
others. I can't manage him; but I guess you could. I apologise,
dear Lady Cousin. I'm only a hayseed, and a failure, but I guess
you'll understand that I haven't thought only of myself as I wrote
this letter. The higher you go in life the more you'll understand;
that's your nature. I'll get this letter off by a nigger to-morrow,
with those the Saadat is sending through to Cairo by some
friendlies. It's only a chance; but everything's chance here now.
Anyhow, it's safer than leaving it till the scrimmage. If you get
this, won't you try and make the British Government stand by the
Saadat? Your husband, the lord, could pull it off, if he tried; and
if you ask him, I guess he'd try. I must be off now. David Pasha
will be waiting. Well, give my love to the girls!

Your affectionate cousin,

TOM LACEY.

P. S.--I've got a first-class camel for our scrimmage day after
to-morrow. Mustafa sent it to me this morning. I had a fight on
mules once, down at Oaxaca, but that was child's play. This will be
"slaughter in the pan," if the Saadat doesn't stop it somehow.
Perhaps he will. If I wasn't so scared I'd wish he couldn't stop
it, for it will be a way-up Barbarian scrap, the tongs and the
kettle, a bully panjandrum. It gets mighty dull in the desert when
you're not moving. But "it makes to think," as the F