t was leaning against the rail
and arguing about the remissness of the British Government in not taking
a more complete control of the Egyptian frontier, while the Colonel
stood very erect in front of him, with the red end of a cigar-stump
protruding from under his moustache.

But what was the matter with the Colonel? Who would have recognised him
who had only seen the broken old man in the Libyan desert? There might
be some little grizzling about the moustache, but the hair was back once
more at the fine glossy black which had been so much admired upon
the voyage up. With a stony face and an unsympathetic manner he had
received, upon his return to Haifa, all the commiserations about the
dreadful way in which his privations had blanched him, and then diving
into his cabin, he had reappeared within an hour exactly as he had been
before that fatal moment when he had been cut off from the manifold
resources of civilisation. And he looked in such a sternly questioning
manner at every one who stared at him, that no one had the moral courage
to make any remark about this modern miracle. It was observed from that
time forward that, if the Colonel had only to ride a hundred yards into
the desert, he always began his preparations by putting a small black
bottle with a pink label into the side-pocket of his coat. But those who
knew him best at times when a man may be best known, said that the old
soldier had a young man's heart and a young man's spirit,--so that if
he wished to keep a young man's colour also it was not very unreasonable
after all. It was very soothing and restful up there on the saloon deck,
with no sound but the gentle lipping of the water as it rippled against
the sides of the steamer. The red after-glow was in the western sky,
and it mottled the broad, smooth river with crimson. Dimly they could
discern the tall figures of herons standing upon the sandbanks, and
farther off the line of river-side date-palms glided past them in a
majestic procession. Once more the silver stars were twinkling out, the
same clear, placid, inexorable stars to which their weary eyes had been
so often upturned during the long nights of their desert martyrdom.

"Where do you put up in Cairo, Miss Adams?" asked Mrs. Belmont, at last.

"Shepheard's, I think."

"And you, Mr. Stephens?"

"Oh, Shepheard's, decidedly."

"We are staying at the Continental. I hope we shall not lose sight of
you."

"I don't want ever to lose sight of