It seemed an age while the chain was being slipped from my shackles, and then, led by Idris, I made my way to the gate of the Saier. I was crying dry eyed; I could see a blurred group, and then I was startled out of my senses by hearing English spoken—the only words of a European language I had heard for seven long years. From that blurred group, and through the gloom, came a voice, “Are you Neufeld? are you well?” And then a tall figure stepped towards me, and gave my hand a hearty shake. It was the Sirdar. I believe I babbled something as I received a handshake from one, and a slap on the shoulder from another, but I do not know what I said. Looking down at my shackles, the Sirdar asked, “Can these be taken off now?—I am going on.” I believe a second’s discussion went on with Idris, and then I heard the last order I was to receive and obey in the Saier, “Neufeld, _out you go_!” It was the Sirdar’s order, and, half carried by the friendly and strong arms supporting me, I obeyed. The next thing I remembered was a British officer slipping off his horse, lifting me into the saddle, and trudging along at my side after the terribly trying and arduous day he must have had. I was taken to the “head-quarters’ mess” at the camp; the Sirdar had, I believe, allowed himself the luxury of a broken angareeb on which to rest; the staff were lying in all positions on the sand, fagged out, but hard at work with despatches and orders by the light of |279| guttering candles. It was a hungry, thirsty, and deadbeat head-quarters’ mess I had been invited to on the night of the memorable 2nd of September. While the comfort of the troops had been looked to, the Sirdar and his staff had evidently neglected themselves. Their canteen and mess were miles away on slow-travelling camels; one of the most brilliant victories of the nineteenth century was being celebrated by a supper of a few biscuits, poor water, some of my prison bread, which I shared with others around me, and Cairo cigarettes, with the sand of the desert for seats, and the canopy of heaven as the roof over our heads.