"Indeed, I did not, and it was a cruel thing I thought it," said Grady. "Ah, and sure I see what you are after! And it is like a crimped fish ye are with the deep slashes, and only those would think light of them who have not got them. But you will soon be all right again after the clane cuts, while a poke or a bullet-hole is a long time haling if it does not kill ye entirely. That is what the boys mane." It was after a couple of days that Kavanagh was able to hold this conversation. Before that he was incapacitated for talking not only by weakness, but also because the cut on the side of his head had reached his cheek, and slicing through it nicked the tongue. Taking food and drink was therefore quite painful enough just at first without talking. But it was surprising how quickly this part began to heal. He could not smoke yet, however, and that resource for whiling away some of the long hours failed him. "It was a regular duel ye had with the haythen in his temple, and ye won it fair and square, anyhow, without shooting," said Grady. "The other was as dead as Julius Sayser when the boys saw him, for I was not to the fore myself, having had my little tour the day before." "I remember," said Kavanagh. "And how is your prisoner getting on? He has not slipped away yet, has he?" "Sorra a bit of it, he seems quite plazed to be living with dacent people for a change. He tould the interpreter that it was a mighty great friend of the Mahdi's ye killed; a man some people reckoned very holy--a _faker_ he called him. At least, a man like that lived up by that cavern ye discovered." "I don't know who he was," said Kavanagh, "but I wish he had recovered. He was a game one that, to fight as he did after he got his death- wound." Sergeant Barton, who came up just then, heard this last remark, and said, smiling-- "That is true enough, but his opponent must have a good bit of pluck, too, it seems to me." "Not so much as you think," replied Kavanagh, meditatively. "I do not say it out of mock modesty, but it is a simple fact that fear of that sharp edge made me strain all my faculties to keep it at a distance. But I was horribly afraid of it all the same." "Well, I suppose that the other was afraid of your bayonet point, if you come to that." "I don't believe it; he did not mind it more than a pin, if he could only kill me at the same time." Here an officer came up and asked Kavanagh how he was; adding, "I have good news for you. We shall reach Korti to-day, and then you will be more comfortable." CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. IN THE RANKS OF THE ENEMY. Harry Forsyth had put off the evil day as long as he could, but at length he found himself forced to turn an apparent traitor to his Queen and country, or else to give up the object of his journey when his trials, dangers, and sufferings had been crowned with success, and probably to lose his life into the bargain.