None of the white prisoners, with the exception of Colonel Cochrane, had ever been upon a camel before.  It seemed an alarming distance to the ground when they looked down, and the curious swaying motion, with the insecurity of the saddle, made them sick and frightened.  But their bodily discomfort was forgotten in the turmoil of bitter thoughts within.  What a chasm gaped between their old life and their new!  And yet how short was the time and space which divided them!  Less than an hour ago they had stood upon the summit of that rock, and had laughed and chattered, or grumbled at the heat and flies, becoming peevish at small discomforts.  Headingly had been hypercritical over the tints of Nature.  They could not forget his own tint as he lay with his cheek upon the black stone.  Sadie had chattered about tailor-made dresses and Parisian chiffons.  Now she was clinging, half-crazy, to the pommel of a wooden saddle, with suicide rising as a red star of hope in her mind.  Humanity, reason, argument—­all were gone, and there remained the brutal humiliation of force.  And all the time, down there by the second rocky point, their steamer was waiting for them—­their saloon, with the white napery and the glittering glasses, the latest novel, and the London papers.  The least imaginative of them could see it so clearly:  the white awning, Mrs. Shlesinger with her yellow sun-hat, Mrs. Belmont lying back in the canvas chair.  There it lay almost in sight of them, that little floating chip broken off from home, and every silent, ungainly step of the camels was carrying them more hopelessly away from it.  That very morning how beneficent Providence had appeared, how pleasant was life!—­a little commonplace, perhaps, but so soothing and restful.  And now!

The red head-gear, patched jibbehs, and yellow boots had already shown to the Colonel that these men were no wandering party of robbers, but a troop from the regular army of the Khalifa.  Now, as they struck across the desert, they showed that they possessed the rude discipline which their work demanded.  A mile ahead, and far out on either flank, rode their scouts, dipping and rising among the yellow sand-hills.  Ali Wad Ibrahim headed the caravan, and his short, sturdy lieutenant brought up the rear.  The main party straggled over a couple of hundred yards, and in the middle was the little, dejected clump of prisoners.  No attempt was made to keep them apart, and Mr. Stephens soon contrived that his camel should be between those of the two ladies.

“Don’t be down-hearted, Miss Adams,” said he.  “This is a most indefensible outrage, but there can be no question that steps will be taken in the proper quarter to set the matter right.  I am convinced that we shall be subjected to nothing worse than a temporary inconvenience.  If it had not been for that villain Mansoor, you need not have appeared at all.”