udicrous misery. It was fun at first, and they
smiled at each other, but soon the fun had become tragedy as the
terrible camel-ache seized them by spine and waist, with its deep, dull
throb, which rises gradually to a splitting agony.

"I can't stand it, Sadie," cried Miss Adams suddenly. "I've done my
best. I'm going to fall."

"No, no, auntie, you'll break your limbs if you do. Hold up, just a
little, and maybe they'll stop."

"Lean back, and hold your saddle behind," said the Colonel.
"There, you'll find that will ease the strain." He took the puggaree
from his hat, and tying the ends together, he slung it over her front
pommel. "Put your foot in the loop," said he. "It will steady you like
a stirrup."

The relief was instant, so Stephens did the same for Sadie.
But presently one of the weary doora camels came down with a crash, its
limbs starred out as if it had split asunder, and the caravan had to
come down to its old sober gait.

"Is this another belt of drift sand?" asked the Colonel presently.

"No, it's white," said Belmont. "Here, Mansoor, what is that in front
of us?"

But the dragoman shook his head.

"I don't know what it is, sir. I never saw the same thing before."

Right across the desert, from north to south, there was drawn a white
line, as straight and clear as if it had been slashed with chalk across
a brown table. It was very thin, but it extended without a break
from horizon to horizon. Tippy Tilly said something to the dragoman.

"It's the great caravan route," said Mansoor.

"What makes it white, then?"

"The bones."

It seemed incredible, and yet it was true, for as they drew nearer they
saw that it was indeed a beaten track across the desert, hollowed out by
long usage, and so covered with bones that they gave the impression of a
continuous white ribbon. Long, snouty heads were scattered everywhere,
and the lines of ribs were so continuous that it looked in places like
the framework of a monstrous serpent. The endless road gleamed in the
sun as if it were paved with ivory. For thousands of years this had
been the highway over the desert, and during all that time no animal of
all those countless caravans had died there without being preserved by
the dry, antiseptic air. No wonder, then, that it was hardly possible
to walk down it now without treading upon their skeletons.

"This must be the route I spoke of," said Stephens. "I remember marking
it upon the map I