This, it seems, is Nubian for a challenge. He has thrown down his gantlet in form and demands trial by combat. The noisy crowd, meanwhile, increases every moment. Reïs Hassan looks grave, fearing a possible fracas; and the idle man, who is reading the morning service down below (for it is on a Sunday morning) can scarcely be heard for the clamor outside. In this emergency it occurs to the writer to send a message ashore informing these gentlemen that the howadjis are holding mosque in the dahabeeyah and entreating them to be quiet till the hour of prayer is past. The effect of the message, strange to say, is instantaneous. The angry voices are at once hushed. The challenger puts on his turban. The assembled spectators squat in respectful silence on the bank. A whole hour goes by thus, so giving the storm time to blow over; and when the idle man reappears on deck his would-be adversary comes forward quite pleasantly to discuss the purchase afresh. It matters little how the affair ended; but I believe he was offered his necklace back in exchange for the money paid and preferred to abide by his bargain. It is as evidence of the sincerity of the religions sentiment in the minds of a semi-savage people,[172] that I have thought the incident worth telling. We are now less than forty miles from Philæ; but the head wind is always against us and the men’s bread is exhausted and there is no flour to be bought in these Nubian villages. The poor fellows swept out the last crumbs from the bottom of their bread-chest three or four days ago and are now living on quarter-rations of lentil soup and a few dried dates bought at Wady Halfeh. Patient and depressed, they crouch silently beside their oars, or forget their hunger in sleep. For ourselves, it is painful to witness their need and still more painful to be unable to help them. Talhamy, whose own stores are at a low ebb, vows he can do nothing. It would take his few remaining tins of preserved meat to feed fifteen men for two days, and of flour he has barely enough for the howadjis. Hungry? well, yes--no doubt they are hungry. But what of that? They are Arabs; and Arabs bear hunger as camels bear thirst. It is nothing new to them. They have often been hungry before--they will often be hungry again. Enough! It is not for the ladies to trouble themselves about such fellows as these! Excellent advice, no doubt; but hard to follow. Not to be troubled and not to do what little we can for the poor lads, is impossible. When that little means laying violent hands upon Talhamy’s reserve of eggs and biscuits and getting up lotteries for prizes of chocolate and tobacco, that worthy evidently considers that we have taken leave of our wits.