gged fellah had managed to free his mouth, and though his feet
were bound also and he could not loose them, he gave a loud call for
help. From dying fires here and there Arab sentries sprang to their feet
with rifles and lances.

Wyndham's work was done. He leapt from the sakkia, and ran towards the
house. Shot after shot was fired at him, lances were thrown, and once an
Arab barred his way suddenly. He pistoled him and ran on. A lance caught
him in the left arm. He tore it out and pushed forward. Stooping once,
he caught up a sword from the ground. When he was within fifty yards of
the house, four Arabs intercepted him. He slashed through, then turned
with his pistol and fired as he ran quickly towards the now open gate.
He was within ten yards of it, and had fired his last shot, when a
bullet crashed through his jaw.

A dozen Gippies ran out, dragged him in, and closed the gate.

The last thing Wyndham did before he died in the grey of dawn--and this
is told of him by the Gippies themselves-was to cough up the bullet from
his throat, and spit it out upon the ground. The Gippies thought it a
miraculous feat, and that he had done it in scorn of the Arab foe.

Before another sunrise and sunset had come, Wyndham bimbashi's men were
relieved by the garrison of Kerbat, after a hard fight.

There are Englishmen in Egypt who still speak slightingly of Wyndham
bimbashi, but the British officer who buried him hushed a gossiping
dinner-party a few months ago in Cairo by saying:

"Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he'll reek, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where his Gippies have laid him."

And he did not apologise for paraphrasing the famous ballad. He has
shamed Egypt at last into admiration for Wyndham bimbashi: to the
deep satisfaction of Hassan, the Soudanese boy, who received his fifty
pounds, and to this day wears the belt which once kept him in the narrow
path of duty.

A TYRANT AND A LADY

When Donovan Pasha discovered the facts for the first time, he found
more difficulty in keeping the thing to himself than he had ever found
with any other matter in Egypt. He had unearthed one of those paradoxes
which make for laughter--and for tears. It gave him both; he laughed
till he cried. Then he went to the Khedivial Club and ordered himself
four courses, a pint of champagne and a glass of '48 port, his usual
dinner being