unbelievable. The venture before the last had been sugar, and when he
arrived in Cairo, having seen his fields and factories absorbed in the
Khedive's domains, he had but one ten pounds to his name.

He went to Dicky Donovan and asked the loan of a thousand pounds. It
took Dicky's breath away. His own banking account seldom saw a thousand
--deposit. Dicky told Kingsley he hadn't got it. Kingsley asked him to
get it--he had credit, could borrow it from the bank, from the Khedive
himself! The proposal was audacious--Kingsley could offer no security
worth having. His enthusiasm and courage were so infectious, however,
though his ventures had been so fruitless, that Dicky laughed in his
face. Kingsley's manner then suddenly changed, and he assured Dicky
that he would receive five thousand pounds for the thousand within a
year. Now, Dicky knew that Kingsley never made a promise to any one that
he did not fulfil. He gave Kingsley the thousand pounds. He did more.
He went to the Khedive with Kingsley's whole case. He spoke as he had
seldom spoken, and he secured a bond from Ismail, which might not be
broken. He also secured three thousand pounds of the Khedive's
borrowings from Europe, on Kingsley's promise that it should be returned
five-fold.

That was how Kingsley got started in the world again, how he went mining
in the desert afar, where pashas and mamours could not worry him. The
secret of his success was purely Oriental. He became a slave-owner. He
built up a city of the desert round him. He was its ruler. Slavery gave
him steady untaxed labour. A rifle-magazine gave him security against
marauding tribes, his caravans were never over powered; his blacks were
his own. He had a way with them; they thought him the greatest man in
the world. Now, at last, he was rich enough. His mines were worked out,
too, and the market was not so good; he had supplied it too well.