ing to keep up steam.

He could see a crowd slowly gathering under the palm-trees between the
shore and Beni Hassan. They were waiting for Mahommed Ibrahim's signal.

Holgate was below, the sailors were at the cables. "Let go ropes!" Dicky
called.

A minute later the engine was quietly churning away below; two minutes
later the ropes were drawn in; half a minute later still the nose of the
Amenhotep moved in the water. She backed from the Nile mud, lunged free.

"An old man had three sons; one was a thief, another a rogue, and the
worst of the three was a soldier--and he dies first! What have you got
to say before you say your prayers?" said Dicky to the Orderly.

"Mafish!" answered Mahommed Ibrahim, moveless. "Mafish--nothing!" And he
said "nothing" in good English.

"Say your prayers then, Mahommed Ibrahim," said Dicky in that voice like
a girl's; and he backed a little till he rested a shoulder against the
binnacle.

Mahommed Ibrahim turned slightly till his face was towards the east. The
pistol now fell in range with his ear. The Orderly took off his shoes,
and, standing with his face towards the moon, and towards Mecca, he
murmured the fatihah from the Koran. Three times he bowed, afterwards he
knelt and touched the deck with his forehead three times also. Then he
stood up. "Are you ready?" asked Dicky.

"Water!" answered Mahommed Ibrahim in English. Dicky had forgotten that
final act of devotion of the good Mahommedan. There was a filter of
Nile-water near. He had heard it go drip-drip, drip-drip, as Mahommed
Ibrahim prayed.

"Drink," he said, and pointed with his finger. Mahommed Ibrahim took
the little tin cup hanging by the tap, half filled it, drank it off, and
noiselessly put the cup back again. Then he stood with his face towards
the pistol.

"The game is with the English all the time," said Dicky softly.

"Malaish!" said Mahommed. "Jump," said Dicky.

One instant's pause, and then, without a sound, Ibrahim sprang out over
the railing into the hard-running current, and struck out for the shore.
The Amenhotep passed him. He was in the grasp of a whirlpool so strong
that it twisted the Amenhotep in her course. His head spun round like
a water-fly, and out of the range of Dicky's pistol he shrieked to the
crowd on the shore. They burst from the palm-trees and rushed down to
the banks with cries of rage, murder, and death; for now they saw him
fighting for his life. But the Amenhotep's nose was tow