pears with us."

Zaki had no curiosity. If his master was going, it was of course all
right--his confidence in him was absolute.

In about an hour, a native from the Intelligence Department brought
down two Dervish dresses, complete. They had still three hours before
mess, and Gregory sat down on his bed, and opened his father's
pocketbook, which he had had no opportunity to do, since it came into
his possession.

Chapter 17: A Fugitive.

"I do not suppose," the diary began, "that what I write here will ever
be read. It seems to me that the chances are immeasurably against it.
Still, there is a possibility that it may fall into the hands of some
of my countrymen when, as will surely be the case, the Mahdi's
rebellion is crushed and order restored; and I intend, so long as I
live, to jot down from time to time what happens to me, in order that
the only person living interested in me, my wife, may possibly,
someday, get to know what my fate has been. Therefore, should this
scrap of paper, and other scraps that may follow it, be ever handed to
one of my countrymen, I pray him to send it to Mrs. Hilliard, care of
the manager of the Bank at Cairo.

"It may be that this, the first time I write, may be the last; and I
therefore, before all things, wish to send her my heart's love, to tell
her that my last thoughts and my prayers will be for her, and that I
leave it entirely to her whether to return to England, in accordance
with the instructions I left her before leaving, or to remain in Cairo.

"It is now five days since the battle. It cannot be called a battle. It
was not fighting; it was a massacre. The men, after three days'
incessant fighting, were exhausted and worn out, half mad with thirst,
half mutinous at being brought into the desert, as they said, to die.
Thus, when the Dervishes rushed down in a mass, the defence was feeble.
Almost before we knew what had happened, the enemy had burst in on one
side of the square. Then all was wild confusion--camels and Dervishes,
flying Egyptians, screaming camp followers, were all mixed in
confusion.

"The other sides of the square were also attacked. Some of our men were
firing at those in their front, others turning round and shooting into
the crowded mass in the square. I was with a black regiment, on the
side opposite to where they burst in. The white officer who had been in
command had fallen ill, and had been sent back, a few days after we
left Khartoum; and