lower they came. He turned away with a shiver.

The Professor was still sleeping when Quest re-entered the tent. He woke
him up and beckoned him to come outside.

"Dear me!" the former exclaimed genially, as he adjusted his glasses, "I
am not sure that my toilet--however, the young ladies, I imagine, are not
yet astir. You did well to call me, Quest. This is the rose dawn of Egypt.
I have watched it from solitudes such as you have never dreamed of. After
all, we are here scarcely past the outskirts of civilisation."

"You'll find we are far enough!" Quest remarked grimly. "What do you make
of this, Professor?"

He pointed to the little sandy knoll with its sparse covering of grass,
deserted--with scarcely a sign, even, that it had been the resting place
of the caravan. The Professor gave vent to a little exclamation.

"Our guides!" he demanded. "And the camels! What has become of them?"

"I woke you up to ask you that question?" Quest replied, "but I guess it's
pretty obvious. We might have saved the money we gave for those rifles in
Port Said."

The Professor hurried off towards the spot where the encampment had been
made. Suddenly he stood still and pointed with his finger. In the clearer,
almost crystalline light of the coming day, they saw the track of the
camels in one long, unbroken line stretching away northwards.

"No river near, where they could have gone to water the camels, or
anything of that sort, I suppose?" Quest asked.

The Professor smiled.

"Nothing nearer than a little stream you may have heard of in the days
when you studied geography," he observed derisively,--"the Nile. I never
liked the look of those fellows, Quest. They sat and talked and crooned
together after Hassan's death. I felt that they were up to some mischief."

He glanced around a little helplessly. Quest took a cigar from his case,
and lit it.

"To think that an old campaigner like I am," the Professor continued, in a
tone of abasement, "should be placed in a position like this! There have
been times when for weeks together I have slept literally with my finger
upon the trigger of my rifle, when I have laid warning traps in case the
natives tried to desert in the night. I have even had our pack ponies
hobbled. I have learnt the secret of no end of devices. And here, with a
shifty lot of Arabs picked up in the slums of Port Said, and Hassan, the
dragoman, dying in that mysterious fashion, I permit myself to lie down
and go