mast."

But the routine of the ship went on as before. Fortunately, Mrs.
Falchion's heroism at Aden had taken the place of the sensation attending
Boyd Madras's suicide. Those who tired of thinking of both became mildly
interested in Red Sea history. Chief among these was the bookmaker. As
an historian the bookmaker was original. He cavalierly waved aside all
such confusing things as dates: made Moses and Mahomet contemporaneous,
incidentally referred to King Solomon's visits to Cleopatra, and with sad
irreverence spoke of the Exodus and the destruction of Pharaoh's horses
and chariots as "the big handicap." He did not mean to be irreverent or
unhistorical. He merely wished to enlighten Mrs. Callendar, who said he
was very original, and quite clever at history. His really startling
points, however, were his remarks upon the colours of the mountains of
Egypt and the sunset tints to be seen on the Red Sea and the Suez Canal.
To him the grey, and pink, and melancholy gold only brought up visions
of a race at Epsom or Flemington--generally Flemington, where the staring
Australian sun pours down on an emerald course, on a score of horses
straining upon the start, the colours of the jockeys' coats and caps
changing in the struggle like a kaleidoscope, and making strange
harmonies of colour. The comparison between the mountains of Egypt and
a race-course might seem most absurd, if one did not remember that the
bookmaker had his own standards, and that he thought he was paying
unusual honour to the land of the Fellah. Clovelly plaintively said,
as he drank his hock and seltzer, that the bookmaker was hourly saving
his life; and Colonel Ryder admitted at last that Kentucky never produced
anything quite like him.

The evening before we came to the Suez Canal I was walking with Miss
Treherne and her father. I had seen Galt Roscoe in conversation with