t it out."

In a paroxysm of passion Selamlik Pasha called two Abyssinian slaves
standing behind. "This brother of a toad to prison!" he said.

The Lost One's eyes sought Dicky like a flash. Without a word, and as
quick as the tick of a clock, Dicky tossed over his pistol to the Lost
One, who caught it smoothly, turned it in his hand, and levelled it at
the Abyssinians.

"No more of this damned nonsense, Pasha," said Fielding suddenly.
"He doesn't put a high price on his life, and you do on yours. I'd be
careful!"

"Steady, Trousers!" said Dicky in a soft voice, and smiled his girlish
smile.

Selamlik Pasha stared for a moment in black anger, then stuttered forth:
"Will you speak for a dog of a slave that his own country vomits out?"

"Your mother was a slave of Darfur, Pasha," answered Fielding, in a low
voice; "your father lost his life stealing slaves. Let's have no airs
and graces."

Dicky's eyes had been fixed on the Lost One, and his voice now said in
its quaint treble: "Don't get into a perspiration. He's from where we
get our bad manners, and he messes with us to-night, Pasha."

The effect of these words was curious. Fielding's face was a blank
surprise, and his mouth opened to say no, but he caught Dicky's look and
the word was not uttered. The Pasha's face showed curious incredulity;
under the pallor of the Lost One's a purplish flush crept, stayed a
moment, then faded away, and left it paler than before.

"We've no more business, I think, Pasha," said Fielding brusquely, and
turned his donkey towards the river. The Pasha salaamed without a word,
his Abyssinian slaves helped him on his great white donkey, and he
trotted away towards the palace, the trousers flapping about his huge
legs. The Lost One stood fingering the revolver. Presently he looked up
at Dicky, and, standing still, held out the pistol.

"Better keep it," said Dicky; "I'll give you some peas for it to-night.
Speak to the poor devil, Fielding," he added quickly, in a low tone.

Fielding turned in his saddle. "Seven's the hour," he said, and rode on.

"Thanks, you fellows," said the Lost One, and walked swiftly away.

As they rode to the Amenhotep Dicky did not speak, but once he turned
round to look after the outcast, who was shambling along the bank of the
canal.

When Fielding and Dicky reached the deck of the Amenhotep, and Mahommed
Seti had brought refreshment, Dicky said: "What did he do?"

Fielding's voice was constrained