and I am sure your advice was better than the fakir would have given, so
she is no loser. If ever we come on one of these sort of trips again we
will bring some quinine and some strong pills, and then we really may do
some good."

Dick took no pains about coloring his face or hands, for both were burned
so brown with exposure to the sun that he had no fear that a casual glance
at them at night, even in torchlight, would detect that he was not a
native.

"Now, Ned, I promised to stop for twenty-four hours, if you liked, to soak
that head of hair in a pond; what do you say?"

"No," Ned said; "it is terribly filthy, but we will waste no time. To-
morrow, when we halt, we will try and make an oven and bake it. I will try
to-morrow to get a fresh cloth for myself, and throw these horrible rags
away. Even a fakir must have a new cloth sometimes."

They made a very long march that night; and had the next evening a success
equal to that of the night before. Another long night-tramp followed, and
on getting up at the end of the day's sleep Ned collected some dry sticks
and lit a fire. Then he made a hole in the ground, and filled it with
glowing embers. When the embers were just extinct he cleared them out,
took off his wig, rolled it up, and put it into the hot oven he had thus
prepared, and covered the top in with a sod. Then carefully looking to see
that no natives were in sight, he threw away his old rags, and Dick and he
enjoyed a dip in a small irrigation tank close to the wood. After this Ned
again smeared himself over with mud, and sat down in the sun to dry. Then
he dressed himself in the cloth that had been given him the night before,
opened his oven, took out the wig, gave it a good shake, and put it on,