his head and
moistened his pale lips with water. He could hardly speak, but a smile
passed over his face as he said faintly, "She'll get my presents by this
mail. Write, Miles--break it to her--we'll meet again--by the side of
Jesus--God be praised!"

He ceased, and never spoke again.

Gilroy was a married man, with five children. Just before the accident
he had written to his wife enclosing gifts for his little ones, and
telling, in a thankful spirit, of continued health and safety. Before
the mail-steamer with his letter on board was out of sight he was dead!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

DESCRIBES SOME OF OSMAN DIGNA'S ECCENTRICITIES AND OTHER MATTERS.

One day Miles and his friend Armstrong went to have a ramble in the town
of Suakim, and were proceeding through the bazaar when they encountered
Simkin hurrying towards them with a much too serious expression on his
face!

"Have you heard the n-news?" he asked, on coming up.

"No; what's up?"

"The old shep-shepherd's bin killed; all the c-cattle c-captured, an'
the Egyptian c-cavalry's bin sent out after them."

"Nonsense! You're dreaming, or you've bin drinking," said Miles.

"Neither dreamin' nor drinkin'," returned Simkin, with indignation, as
he suddenly delivered a blow at our hero's face. Miles stopped it,
however, gave him a playful punch in the chest, and passed on.

At first Simkin seemed inclined to resent this, but, while he swayed
about in frowning indecision, his comrades left him; shaking his head,
therefore, with intense gravity, he walked away muttering, "Not a bad
fellow Miles, after all, if he w-wasn't so fond o' the b-bottle!"

Miles was at the same moment making the same remark to his friend in
reference to Simkin, and with greater truth.

"But I don't wonder that the men who drink, go in for it harder than
ever here," continued Miles. "There is such hard work, and constant
exposure, and so little recreation of any sort. Yet it is a pity that
men should give way to it, for too many of our comrades are on the
sick-list because of it, and some under the sod."

"It is far more than a pity," returned Armstrong, with unwonted energy.
"Drink with its attendant evils is one of the great curses of the army.
I have been told, and I can well believe it, that drink causes more loss
to an army than war, the dangers of foreign service, and unhealthy
climates, all put together."

"That's a strong statement, Willie, and would need to be foun