this," Clare Carruthers had said with her last
waking consciousness. "God forgive me, but
I must save him if I can."

THREE DAYS IN THE DESERT.

Is the month of July, 1864, we left Alexandria
for Tell el Kebir, the Turkish palace built by
Mahomet Ali Pasha, in the Ouady (the ancient
land of Goshen of the Bible). M. Guichard,
the agricultural manager of the Suez Canal, had
asked us to go and see the Bedouin festival of
Aboo Nichab, an Abyssinian saint, who died
many hundred years ago, up the Nile, and
whose arm-bones some devout worshipper had
brought to the Suez desert, and buried. Whereupon,
so runs the legend, the saint Aboo Nichab
followed his bones, and, rejoining them to his
body, has reposed peacefully in his desert tomb
ever since. The Bedouins come from great
distances every year to pray at his shrine, and
1864 was the six hundredth anniversary of
his death, so the gathering was to be large.
Leaving Alexandria by morning train, we
arrived at Zag-a-zig about three in the afternoon.
There we found that the telegram announcing
our departure from Alexandria had remained in
the Suez Canal Company's telegraph office, as
the clerk had gone to Tell el Kebir to see the
fète. We got hold of his Arab servant, who
had seen his master work the telegraphs, and
between us we managed somehow to send a
message, begging M. Guichard to meet us.

We then looked about for some means of
transport, and found nothing but an old camel
who had brought a load of straw from the fields.
Just as we were debating as to mounting the
uncomfortable brute, a cabriolet with one spring
broken came slowly along the dyke of the
Bahr de Moïse, the small canal which feeds the
fresh-water canal to Ismailia and Port Saïd, and
Suez on the other side. The poor horse had
come sixty miles, from Ismailia; so we had him
groomed and fed, and gave him, to the dismay
of the Arab sais, or groom, a bottle of beer
which we found in the telegraph clerk's room.
Then we got some ropes, harnessed our camel
tandem fashion in front, and started for a twenty-
mile drive along the dyke. Such a road, such
holes and hillocks! which with a broken spring
were dreadful. After about four miles of this
original proceeding, the camel lay down and
refused to move, so we had to drag horse and
cabriolet over him, and leave the beast roaring
and grunting in the road. The poor old horse
fell twice, and at about half-past seven, just as
darkness was coming on, to our great relief
we saw M. Guichard in his pony chaise coming
full gallop towards us. Tell el Kebir was reached
at nine, where a good dinner was most
refreshing.

Next morning every one was astir early to
start tents, mattresses, cooking utensils, and
servants to Aboo Nichab, about twelve miles off
in the desert. To our dismay, we then
discovered that the third pummel of the side-saddle
had been forgotten, and the horse Mrs. Ross was
to ride was an inveterate burk-jumper, a kicker,
and very violent. The Arab carpenter set to
work under our directions, a wooden pummel
was made and fastened with great trouble, and
at one we started, accompanied by various
officials of the Suez Canal Company.

The sun was intensely powerful and we rode
along, skirting the cultivated land, wrapped in
our white abbaihs and burnous, our heads,
covered with kufiahs (large white or striped
silk handkerchiefs with tassels), bowed over
our saddle-bows; the thermometer considerably
above one hundred. About four miles from
Aboo Nichab we struck into the desert, and soon
heard shouting and the galloping of horses, and
saw a cloud of sand. We were met by several
hundred Bedouins firing their guns and shaking
their long spears, decorated with ostrich feathers,
above their heads. They charged down upon
us, circling around at full speed, uttering the
praises of M. Guichard, and rather astonished at
Mrs. Ross on horseback, some of them never
having seen an European lady ride. They could
not make out how she rode with only one leg,
as they supposed, seeing her sit sideways.
Arrived at our camp, we found a big tent pitched
on a small hillock, and a smaller one for Mrs.
Ross adjoining, the Bedouin tents being all round.
There must have been at least five thousand
Bedouins, some from Syria, some from up the
Nile, and eight sheiks were there, who were
invited to come and drink coffee with us. Old
Mohamed Hassan, Sheik of the Anadies, seeing
Mrs. Ross served first, rose, and gathering his
ragged burnous about him, stalked out of the
tent, saying he was not going to see a woman,
a creature without a soul, served before him.
In vain did M. Guichard explain that the Sultan
of England was a woman, and that in Europe
women always were served first; the old
Bedouin walked away in high dudgeon. At
dusk we had dinner under considerable
difficulties: our table was crooked, our chairs sank
in the sand, and tilted us over backwards; our
lights were blown out, and a pariah dog stole our
roast lamb. Afterwards we strolled about the
encampment, and stood round an almeh, who,
recognising M. Guichard, began to sing his praises:
"O Frangi, who loves the Arabs; who rides
like a Bedawee; whose shot never misses its
mark; who is strong as Antar, and yet kind as
a woman; who never opresses the poor, and
whose house is open to all," &c. She then
began dancing, or rather posturing, and a
wonderful scene it was; the girl's graceful figure,
her arms, thrown above her head, striking the
tambourine, her face covered and glittering with
strings of gold coins lighted up by flickering
torches and by the splendid Eastern full
moon; a circle of Bedoins showing their
admiration of her singing by long-drawn "ahs,"
and keeping time by clapping their hands.

We heard a drum and some flutes playing,
and saw several enormous white and green flags
planted some way off, and shouts of "Allàh!
Allàh!" rung out in the quiet night. The