t for a little distance, and, turning
into a side passage, soon stopped before a low, one-story building.

A dark-skinned fellow clad in ordinary Egyptian costume stood in the
doorway, and with a cry of surprise Guy recognized Mombagolo, Forbes'
trusty savage servant, who did much good service for them when they were
in Burma together.

Their greeting was brief and hasty.

"I have work for you, Momba," said Melton. "Something is going on in the
town, I don't know just what. You can go anywhere without being
suspected. Find out what you can, and then come down to the wharf. Don't
return here."

The man hastened away at once, and then Guy and Melton started for the
shore.

"I won't give any alarm at the garrison," said Forbes, as they hurried
along. "I'll wait till Momba reports. I don't suppose anything is
contemplated before nightfall at the earliest, and, as the troops are
scattered, it would only precipitate matters if I should have them
called in."

The last bale of goods was being unloaded from the steamer when they
reached the wharf. The captain and officers were smoking cigars against
the rail, and catching sight of Guy, the former called out:

"Don't forget now. Six o'clock sharp."

Guy nodded, and followed Melton to one side, where the two sat down on a
bale of cotton. Melton briefly explained how he came to be at Berbera.
After his return from Burma, he had been dispatched as war
correspondent of the London _Post_ to Suakim, which town was at that
time threatened by the Mahdi.

Mombagolo, or Momba as Melton now called him, had become his faithful
servant, and a week ago, the war-scare at Suakim having subsided, Melton
had come to Berbera to write up the great fair for his paper.

Then Guy, in his turn, simply stated that he had stopped off on his way
to India to execute a commission at Zaila. He made no reference to the
dispatches, feeling doubtful whether it would be proper or not, for a
government secret is a thing of weighty importance.

The conversation drifted to their perilous adventures in Burma, and the
time passed on unheeded.

At last Melton glanced up.

"Do you observe how quiet it is?" he exclaimed. "And look! There are but
few people in sight."

It was indeed quiet. A dead, oppressive calm had settled on the sea; not
a breeze rustled, not a ripple broke the glassy surface of the water,
and from the town, instead of the loud babel of cries, came only a low
murmur like a distant wa