“How can the recruits come through the Dervishes, then?” asked Headingly sharply.

“I dare say there is no such very great difficulty over that,” said Monsieur Fardet, with a wink at the American.

“The older men are the remains of the old black battalions.  Some of them served with Gordon at Khartoum, and have his medal to show.  The others are many of them deserters from the Mahdi’s army,” said the Colonel.

“Well, so long as they are not wanted, they look right elegant in those blue jackets,” Miss Adams observed.  “But if there was any trouble, I guess we would wish they were less ornamental and a bit whiter.”

“I am not so sure of that, Miss Adams,” said the Colonel.  “I have seen these fellows in the field, and I assure you that I have the utmost confidence in their steadiness.”

“Well, I’ll take your word without trying,” said Miss Adams, with a decision which made every one smile.

So far their road had lain along the side of the river, which was swirling down upon their left hand deep and strong from the cataracts above.  Here and there the rush of the current was broken by a black shining boulder over which the foam was spouting.  Higher up they could see the white gleam of the rapids, and the banks grew into rugged cliffs, which were capped by a peculiar, outstanding semi-circular rock.  It did not require the dragoman’s aid to tell the party that this was the famous landmark to which they were bound.  A long, level stretch lay before them, and the donkeys took it at a canter.  At the farther side were scattered rocks, black upon orange; and in the midst of them rose some broken shafts of pillars and a length of engraved wall, looking in its greyness and its solidity more like some work of Nature than of man.  The fat, sleek dragoman had dismounted, and stood waiting in his petticoats and his cover-coat for the stragglers to gather round him.

“This temple, ladies and gentlemen,” he cried, with the air of an auctioneer who is about to sell it to the highest bidder, “very fine example from the eighteenth dynasty.  Here is the cartouche of Thotmes the Third,” he pointed up with his donkey-whip at the rude, but deep, hieroglyphics upon the wall above him.  “He live sixteen hundred years before Christ, and this is made to remember his victorious exhibition into Mesopotamia.  Here we have his history from the time that he was with his mother, until he return with captives tied to his chariot.  In this you see him crowned with Lower Egypt, and with Upper Egypt offering up sacrifice in honour of his victory to the God Ammon-ra.  Here he bring his captives before him, and he cut off each his right hand.  In this corner you see little pile—­all right hands.”

“My sakes, I shouldn’t have liked to be here in those days,” said Miss Adams.

“Why, there’s nothing altered,” remarked Cecil Brown.  “The East is still the East.  I’ve no doubt that within a hundred miles, or perhaps a good deal less, from where you stand—­”