Encouraged by that smile, the Sheikh continued. “When crops fail it is necessary to remit taxation. Then it is a good thing, O Excellency Our Governor, that you come and see the crops which have failed, and discover that we have not lied.” “Assuredly.” The Governor shortened his reins. The horse cantered on, rose at the embankment of the water-channel, changed leg cleverly on top, and hopped down in a cloud of golden dust. Abu Hussein from his earth watched with interest. He had never before seen such things. “Assuredly,” the Governor repeated, and came back by the way he had gone. “It is always best to see for one's self.” An ancient and still bullet-speckled stern-wheel steamer, with a barge lashed to her side, came round the river bend. She whistled to tell the Governor his dinner was ready, and the horse, seeing his fodder piled on the barge, whinnied back. “Moreover,” the Sheikh added, “in the days of the Oppression the Emirs and their creatures dispossessed many people of their lands. All up and down the river our people are waiting to return to their lawful fields.” “Judges have been appointed to settle that matter,” said the Governor. “They will presently come in steamers and hear the witnesses.” “Wherefore? Did the Judges kill the Emirs? We would rather be judged by the men who executed God's judgment on the Emirs. We would rather abide by your decision, O Excellency Our Governor.” The Governor nodded. It was a year since he had seen the Emirs stretched close and still round the reddened sheepskin where lay El Mahdi, the Prophet of God. Now there remained no trace of their dominion except the old steamer, once part of a Dervish flotilla, which was his house and office. She sidled into the shore, lowered a plank, and the Governor followed his horse aboard. Lights burned on her till late, dully reflected in the river that tugged at her mooring-ropes. The Governor read, not for the first time, the administration reports of one John Jorrocks, M.F.H. “We shall need,” he said suddenly to his Inspector, “about ten couple. I'll get 'em when I go home. You'll be Whip, Baker?” The Inspector, who was not yet twenty-five, signified his assent in the usual manner, while Abu Hussein barked at the vast desert moon. “Ha!” said the Governor, coming out in his pyjamas, “we'll be giving you capivi in another three months, my friend.” * * * * * It was four, as a matter of fact, ere a steamer with a melodious bargeful of hounds anchored at that landing. The Inspector leaped down among them, and the homesick wanderers received him as a brother. “Everybody fed 'em everything on board ship, but they're real dainty hounds at bottom,” the Governor explained. “That's Royal you've got hold of--the pick of the bunch--and the bitch that's got hold of you--she's a little excited--is May Queen. Merriman, out of Cottesmore Maudlin, you know.”