should receive some share of gratitude and thanks.

When we awoke the sun was already high, and to show us that we had
dreamed no dream, there was Quick frying tinned bacon over the fire,
while Pharaoh sat still and watched him--or the bacon.

"Look," said Orme to me, pointing to the mountains, "they are still
miles away. It was madness to think that we could reach them."

I nodded, then turned to stare at Higgs, who was just waking up, for,
indeed, he was a sight to see. His fiery red hair was full of sand, his
nether garments were gone, apparently at some stage in our march he had
dispensed with the remains of them because they chafed his sore limbs,
and his fair skin, not excluding that of his face, was a mass of
blisters, raised by the sun. In fact he was so disfigured that his worst
enemy would not have known him. He yawned, stretched himself, always a
good sign in man or beast, and asked for a bath.

"I am afraid you will have to wash yourself in sand here, sir, like them
filthy Arabians," said Quick, saluting. "No water to spare for baths in
this dry country. But I've got a tube of hazeline, also a hair-brush and
a looking-glass," he added, producing these articles.

"Quite so, Sergeant," said Higgs, as he took them; "it's sacrilege to
think of using water to wash. I intend never to waste it in that way
again." Then he looked at himself in the glass, and let it fall upon the
sand, ejaculating, "Oh! good Lord, is that me?"

"Please be careful, sir," said the Sergeant sternly; "you told me the
other day that it's unlucky to break a looking-glass; also I have no