it, my lord. I have never thought
of it, since. It was rubbish."

"Can you take me to the place?"

"I think so. It was not far from my house. I pushed it under the first
great rock I came to, for I was in haste; and wanted to be away before
the white soldiers, on camels, could get here."

"Did you hear of any other things being hidden?"

"No. I think everything was given up. If this thing had been of value I
should, perhaps, have told the sheik; but as it was only written
papers, and of no use to anyone, I did not trouble to do so."

"Well, let us go at once," Gregory said, rising to his feet. "Although
of no use to you, these papers may be of importance."

Followed by Zaki and the four men, Gregory went to the peasant's house,
which stood a quarter of a mile away.

"This is not the house I lived in, then," the man said. "The white
troops destroyed every house in the village; but, when they had gone, I
built another on the same spot."

The hill rose steeply, behind it. The peasant went on, till he stopped
at a large boulder.

"This was the rock," he said, "where I thrust it under, as far as my
arm would reach. I pushed it in on the upper side."

The man lay down.

"It was just about here," he said.

"It is here, my lord. I can just feel it, but I cannot get it out. I
pushed it in as far as the tips of my fingers could reach it."

"Well, go down and cut a couple of sticks, three or four feet long."

In ten minutes, the man returned with them.

"Now take one of them and, when you feel the book, push the stick along
its side, until it is well beyond it. Then you ought to be able to
scrape it out. If you cannot do so, we shall have to roll the stone
over. It is a big rock, but with two or three poles, one ought to be
able to turn it over."

After several attempts, however, the man produced the packet. Gregory
opened it, with trembling hands. It contained, as the man had said, a
large number of loose sheets, evidently torn from a pocketbook, and all
covered with close writing.

He opened the book that accompanied them. It was written in ink, and
the first few words sufficed to tell him that his search was over. It
began:

"Khartoum. Thank God, after two years of suffering and misery, since
the fatal day at El Obeid, I am once again amongst friends. It is true
that I am still in peril, for the position here is desperate. Still,
the army that is coming up to our help may be here in time; and even if
th