see that the one sluice-gate had been shut and the other opened. A half-
hour passed, an hour, and then the end came.

The gagged fellah had managed to free his mouth, and though his feet were
bound also and he could not loose them, he gave a loud call for help.
From dying fires here and there Arab sentries sprang to their feet with
rifles and lances.

Wyndham's work was done. He leapt from the sakkia, and ran towards the
house. Shot after shot was fired at him, lances were thrown, and once an
Arab barred his way suddenly. He pistoled him and ran on. A lance
caught him in the left arm. He tore it out and pushed forward. Stooping
once, he caught up a sword from the ground. When he was within fifty
yards of the house, four Arabs intercepted him. He slashed through, then
turned with his pistol and fired as he ran quickly towards the now open
gate. He was within ten yards of it, and had fired his last shot, when a
bullet crashed through his jaw.

A dozen Gippies ran out, dragged him in, and closed the gate.

The last thing Wyndham did before he died in the grey of dawn--and this
is told of him by the Gippies themselves-was to cough up the bullet from
his throat, and spit it out upon the ground. The Gippies thought it a
miraculous feat, and that he had done it in scorn of the Arab foe.

Before another sunrise and sunset had come, Wyndham bimbashi's men were
relieved by the garrison of Kerbat, after a hard fight.

There are Englishmen in Egypt who still speak slightingly of Wyndham
bimbashi, but the British officer who buried him hushed a gossiping