"Have we gone the wrong way to work, after all?" "No," said the doctor decisively. "We are here, and Khartoum is so far away. You are hot and weary now, Frank; rest and refresh, my lad; they are grand remedies for despair." "Yes," said the professor; "I feel as much out of heart as you, my boy, but common-sense says that we have only tried once." Frank nodded, and rose to go into the room he shared with Sam, too weary and disheartened to notice that his old friend's servant had followed him, till he was startled by feeling the man's cool hands busy about him with a brass basin of cool water and a sponge, when he sat up quickly. "Why, Sam," he cried, "are you going mad?" "Hope not, sir," said the man, "though that hot sun and the dust can't be good." "But what are you doing?" "What'll set you right, sir, and ready for your meal." "But you forget that I am the Hakim's slave." "Not I, sir. Keep still, the black won't come off." "But I can't let you be waiting upon me. Suppose one of the Emir's men came in." "Well, that would be awkward, sir; but I'd chance it this time." "No," said Frank stoically. "There, I feel a little rested now. Go on and bathe yourself. You want it as badly as I." "But let me tend you a bit, sir--Ben." "Sir Ben!" cried Frank angrily. "You mean to betray us, then?" "It's just like me, Ben Eddin; but you will let me give you a cool sponge down? It's quite right, sir, as a barber." "No, no, I'm better now," said Frank sharply, and he busied himself in getting rid of the unpleasant traces of their ride, feeling the better for the effort he was forced to make, and listening in silence to Sam, who, after so long an interval from conversation was eager to make use of his tongue. "Hah!" he said; "water is a blessing in a country like this; but oh, Ben Eddin, did you ever see such a place and such a people?" "No," said Frank shortly. "Horrible!" "Why, our Arabs, sir, with their bit of a tent are princes and kings to 'em. Ugh! the horrible filth and smells and sights, and then the slaves!" "Horrible!" said Frank again. "I've read a deal about slavery, sir, and the--what do they call it?-- atrocities; but what they put in print isn't half bad enough." "Not half," assented Frank. "After what I have seen to-day, not being at all a killing and slaughtering sort of man, I feel as if it's a sort of duty for our soldiers to come up here with fixed bayonets, and drive the black ruffians right away back into the hot deserts they came from. Did you see inside one of those huts we passed?" "I saw inside many, Sam," replied Frank. "I meant that one where the two miserable-looking women came to the door to see us pass." "What, where a man came back to them just before we reached the dying camel?" "Yes; that was the place." "I just caught a glimpse of him as we passed." "Was that all, Ben Eddin?" "Yes, that was all. Why?"