wounded. Dismayed at the loss of so many of their
number, the three survivors rode off at full speed.

"Are you hurt, Zaki?"

"A spear grazed my cheek, my lord; that is all. It was my own fault. I
kept my last barrel too long. However, it tumbled him over.

"Are you hurt, master?"

"I have got a ball in the shoulder. That fellow without a spear has got
pistols, and fired just as I did; or rather, an instant before. That
shook my aim, but he has a ball in him, somewhere.

"Just see if they have got some dates on their saddles," for the horses
of the fallen men had remained by the side of their masters' bodies.

"Yes, my lord," Zaki said, examining them. "Two bags, nearly full."

"That is satisfactory. Pick out the best horse for yourself, and then
we will ride on. But before we go, we will break the stocks of these
four guns, and carry the barrels off, and throw them into the bushes, a
mile or two away."

As soon as this was done, they mounted and rode on. They halted in a
quarter of an hour and, after Gregory's arm had been bound tightly to
his side with his sash, both they and their horses had a good meal of
dates. Then they rode on again, and in three hours saw some white tents
ahead.

There was a slight stir as they were seen coming, and a dozen black
soldiers sprang up and ran forward, fixing bayonets as they did so.

"We are friends!" Gregory shouted, in Arabic; and Zaki repeated the
shout in his own language.

The soldiers looked doubtful, and stood together in a group. They knew
that the Dervishes were sometimes ready to throw away their own lives,
if they could but kill some of their enemy.

One of them shouted back, "Stay where you are until I call an officer!"

He went back to the tents, and returned with a white officer, whom
Gregory at once recognized as one of those who had come up with him
from Wady Halfa.

"Leslie," he shouted in English, "will you kindly call off your
soldiers? One of their muskets might go off, accidentally. I suppose
you don't remember me. I am Hilliard, who came up with you in the
steamer."

The officer had stopped in astonishment, at hearing this seeming
Dervish address him, by name, in English. He then advanced, giving an
order to his men to fall back.

"Is it really you, Hilliard?" he said, as he approached the horsemen,
who were coming forward at a walk. "Which of you is it? For I don't see
any resemblance, in either of you."

"It is I, Leslie. I am not surp