e orphan. "One
might as well travel with the Woolwich Arsenal or the armoury from the
Tower. Barbarous old beast."

"Now," said Captain Deering, "tuck in your tuppenny, Mr. Figgins; bow
as low as you can."

The orphan put his back into an angle of forty-five with his legs.

"Lower."

"Ugh!"

"A little bit more."

"Lower," said Captain Deering, in an agonised whisper. "We shall all be
bowstrung if his excellency thinks us wanting in respect."

The orphan thus admonished made a further effort, and over he went

Head first!

There was such a chattering, such horrible sounds going on, as Captain
Deering scrambled after the unfortunate orphan, that the latter thought
his time was come.

The captain dragged him to his feet, however.

Then the presentation was proceeded with.

"His Excellency Ali Kungham Ben Nardbake," cried a dignitary standing
beside the pasha, with a voice like a toastmaster.

"Good gracious me!" exclaimed the orphan, "all that?"

"That's not half of it," said Captain Deering. "To the faithful, he is
known as well as Sid Ney Ali Ben Lesters puar Nasr ed Bowstrung and
Strattford Bustum."

Mr. Figgins was greatly alarmed at this.

"Powerful memories his godfathers and godmothers must have had," he
murmured.

Beside the pasha stood an official, with a beard of extraordinary
length.

"Who's that?"

"Hush?" whispered Deering; "don't speak so loud."

"Who is he?" again asked the orphan, sinking his voice.

"The one with the beard?"

"Yes."

"His name is Whiska Said Mahmoud Ben Ross Latreille," returned Deering.

"Dear, dear!" murmured the orphan, in despairing accents, "I shall
never----"

"Ease her, stop her!" cried a familiar voice in Mr. Figgins's ear,
"you've got it in a knot."

It was Nat Cringle.

All was hushed.

The bearded official looked at the pasha, who nodded.

Then drawing his sword, he signed to two of his men, and Nat Cringle,
looking dreadfully frightened, was bustled off behind a curtain which
had been rigged up across the saloon, just at the pasha's back.

"What are they going to do?" asked the orphan, his teeth chattering in
alarm.

Captain Deering was so much affected at this stage of the proceedings
that he covered his face with his pocket-handkerchief.

"Poor Nat!"

"What is it?" faltered Mr. Figgins, faintly.

"Did you not see the cord taken away with Nat?" demanded the captain,
in a funereal bass.

"Ye-es."

"Then hark."

Mr. Figgins