fered during their wandering raid in the
desert; and the calmness for a few moments deserted the Hakim's
countenance.

But he was soon himself again, and ready for what he saw at a glance
must be a long and heavy task--one that would call forth all his
energies.

"It is fortunate that I am a surgeon, and not a doctor pure and simple,"
he said quietly, "for these seem to be all injuries received in fight.
Come, Frank, Landon, our work is waiting."

"Yes," said the professor. "You, Sam, look after the commissariat
department."

"The which, sir?" said the man, staring.

"Well, the provisions, and clear away--for action, eh, Frank?"

"Yes, and it's fortunate that the Hakim has had his breakfast."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

STOLEN FOOD.

The Hakim, even if looked upon by the semi-savages of the desert as a
prophet, was human enough to require a second meal before he had
finished what to ordinary people would have been a loathsome task; but
fortunately for suffering humanity the great profession of the surgeon
becomes to him of such intense interest, and so full of grand problems
in the fight against death, that he forgets the horrors and sees
comparatively little of that which makes the unused turn half fainting
away.

In this instance the Baggara chief and his followers had been for many
weeks away from the main body of the invading tribes, fighting,
plundering, destroying, and leaving devastation plainly marked in their
locust-like track. But all this had not been accomplished without
suffering and loss to the tribe. Many had perished from disease; others
had been cut down in some onslaught. More had been sick or wounded and
had recovered, but there was a numerous remnant of sufferers, active men
who had once been strong, but now, weakened by suffering, retained just
enough force to enable them to keep in their places, held up to a great
extent by the cruel knowledge that if they failed ever so little more
they would be left behind in a region where people, the wild beast, and
Nature herself, were all combined against them. For the wounded man if
found by the suffering villagers was remorselessly slaughtered; the
beasts and birds soon spied out the weakling and followed him night and
day till the morning when he was too much chilled by the cold night dews
to rise again to tramp on in search of water or solid food; and then
first one and then another rushed in from the sands, or stooped from
above, to rend a