e desert. As a rule, it takes at least three days to get
camels and guides together for such an expedition: for Egypt is not a
land to hurry in. But the indefatigable Doctor further unearthed the
fact that a sheikh had just come in, who (for a consideration) would
lend us camels for a two days' trip; and we seized the chance to do our
duty by Mr. Elworthy and the world-wide circulation. An unvisited
oasis--and two Christian ladies to be the first to explore it: there's
journalistic enterprise for you! If we happened to be killed, so much
the better for the _Daily Telephone_. I pictured the excitement at
Piccadilly Circus. 'Extra Special, Our Own Correspondent brutally
murdered!' I rejoiced at the opportunity.

I cannot honestly say that Elsie rejoiced with me. She cherished a
prejudice against camels, massacres, and the new journalism. She didn't
like being murdered: though this was premature, for she had never tried
it. She objected that the fanatical Mohammedans of the Senoosi sect, who
were said to inhabit the oasis in question, might cut our throats for
dogs of infidels. I pointed out to her at some length that it was just
that chance which added zest to our expedition as a journalistic
venture: fancy the glory of being the first lady journalists martyred in
the cause! But she failed to grasp this aspect of the question.
However, if I went, she would go too, she said, like a dear girl that
she is: she would not desert me when I was getting my throat cut.

[Illustration: EMPHASIS.]

Dr. Macloghlen made the bargain for us, and insisted on accompanying us
across the desert. He told us his method of negotiation with the Arabs
with extreme gusto. '"Is it pay in advance ye want?" says I to the dirty
beggars: "divvil a penny will ye get till ye bring these ladies safe
back to Geergeh. And remimber, Mr. Sheikh," says I, fingering me pistol,
so, by way of emphasis, "we take no money wid us; so if yer friends at
Wadi Bou choose to cut our throats, 'tis for the pleasure of it they'll
be cutting them, not for anything they'll gain by it." "Provisions,
effendi?" says he, salaaming. "Provisions, is it?" says I. "Take
everything ye'll want wid you; I suppose ye can buy food fit for a
Crischun in the bazaar in Geergeh; and never wan penny do ye touch for
it all till ye've landed us on the bank again, as safe as ye took us. So
if the religious sintiments of the faithful at Wadi Bou should lade them
to hack us to pieces," says I, j