“Tippy Tilly.  Hicks Pasha,” the negro repeated.

“I believe the fellow is friendly to us, but I can’t quite make him out,” said Cochrane to Belmont.  “Do you think that he means that his name is Tippy Tilly, and that he killed Hicks Pasha?”

The negro showed his great white teeth at hearing his own words coming back to him.  “Aiwa!” said he.  “Tippy Tilly—­Bimbashi Mormer—­Boum!”

“By Jove, I’ve got it!” cried Belmont.  “He’s trying to speak English.  Tippy Tilly is as near as he can get to Egyptian Artillery.  He has served in the Egyptian Artillery under Bimbashi Mortimer.  He was taken prisoner when Hicks Pasha was destroyed, and had to turn Dervish to save his skin.  How’s that?”

The Colonel said a few words of Arabic and received a reply, but two of the Arabs closed up, and the negro quickened his pace and left them.

“You are quite right,” said the Colonel.  “The fellow is friendly to us, and would rather fight for the Khedive than for the Khalifa.  I don’t know that he can do us any good, but I’ve been in worse holes than this, and come out right side up.  After all, we are not out of reach of pursuit, and won’t be for another forty-eight hours.”

Belmont calculated the matter out in his slow, deliberate fashion.

“It was about twelve that we were on the rock,” said he.  “They would become alarmed aboard the steamer if we did not appear at two.”

“Yes,” the Colonel interrupted, “that was to be our lunch hour.  I remember saying that when I came back I would have—­O Lord, it’s best not to think of it!”

“The reis was a sleepy old crock,” Belmont continued, “but I have absolute confidence in the promptness and decision of my wife.  She would insist upon an immediate alarm being given.  Suppose they started back at two-thirty, they should be at Halfa by three, since the journey is down stream.  How long did they say that it took to turn out the Camel Corps?”

“Give them an hour.”

“And another hour to get them across the river.  They would be at the Abousir Rock and pick up the tracks by six o’clock.  After that it is a clear race.  We are only four hours ahead, and some of these beasts are very spent.  We may be saved yet, Cochrane!”

“Some of us may.  I don’t expect to see the padre alive to-morrow, nor Miss Adams either.  They are not made for this sort of thing either of them.  Then again we must not forget that these people have a trick of murdering their prisoners when they see that there is a chance of a rescue.  See here, Belmont, in case you get back and I don’t, there’s a matter of a mortgage that I want you to set right for me.”  They rode on with their shoulders inclined to each other, deep in the details of business.

The friendly negro who had talked of himself as Tippy Tilly had managed to slip a piece of cloth soaked in water into the hand of Mr. Stephens, and Miss Adams had moistened her lips with it.  Even the few drops had given her renewed strength, and now that the first crushing shock was over, her wiry, elastic, Yankee nature began to reassert itself.