The wells in the centre of the grove consisted of seven large and two small saucer-like cavities filled with peat-coloured water, enough to form a plentiful supply for any caravan.  Camels and men drank it greedily, though it was tainted by the all-pervading natron.  The camels were picketed, the Arabs threw their sleeping-mats down in the shade, and the prisoners, after receiving a ration of dates and of doora, were told that they might do what they would during the heat of the day, and that the Moolah would come to them before sunset.  The ladies were given the thicker shade of an acacia tree, and the men lay down under the palms.  The great green leaves swished slowly above them; they heard the low hum of the Arab talk, and the dull champing of the camels, and then in an instant, by that most mysterious and least understood of miracles, one was in a green Irish valley, and another saw the long straight line of Commonwealth Avenue, and a third was dining at a little round table opposite to the bust of Nelson in the Army and Navy Club, and for him the swishing of the palm branches had been transformed into the long-drawn hum of Pall Mall.  So the spirits went their several ways, wandering back along the strange, un-traced tracks of the memory, while the weary, grimy bodies lay senseless under the palm-trees in the Oasis of the Libyan Desert.

CHAPTER VIII.

Colonel Cochrane was awakened from his slumber by some one pulling at his shoulder.  As his eyes opened they fell upon the black, anxious face of Tippy Tilly, the old Egyptian gunner.  His crooked finger was laid upon his thick, liver-coloured lips, and his dark eyes glanced from left to right with ceaseless vigilance.

“Lie quiet!  Do not move!” he whispered, in Arabic.  “I will lie here beside you, and they cannot tell me from the others.  You can understand what I am saying?”

“Yes, if you will talk slowly.”

“Very good.  I have no great trust in this black man, Mansoor.  I had rather talk direct with the Miralai.”

“What have you to say?”

“I have waited long, until they should all be asleep, and now in another hour we shall be called to evening prayer.  First of all, here is a pistol, that you may not say that you are without arms.”

It was a clumsy, old-fashioned thing, but the Colonel saw the glint of a percussion cap upon the nipple, and knew that it was loaded.  He slipped it into the inner pocket of his Norfolk jacket.

“Thank you,” said he; “speak slowly, so that I may understand you.”

“There are eight of us who wish to go to Egypt.  There are also four men in your party.  One of us, Mehemet Ali, has fastened twelve camels together, which are the fastest of all save only those which are ridden by the Emirs.  There are guards upon watch, but they are scattered in all directions.  The twelve camels are close beside us here—­those twelve behind the acacia tree.  If we can only get mounted and started, I do not think that many can overtake us, and we shall have our rifles for them.  The guards are not strong enough to stop so many of us.  The water-skins are all filled, and we may see the Nile again by to-morrow night.”