Max was sickened at the sight, and yet he felt that he dare not take his eyes away. Horrible water monsters sought the body, and almost instantly crabs and lizards, fish with ugly fins, and water newts, were covering the remains of the poor Arab and rapidly devouring all that was left of him. Ibrahim was raving. He imagined he saw all sorts of frightful shapes, wanting to tear him to pieces. “I shall go mad,” exclaimed Max, and he felt that it was only a question of a few minutes. The boat drifted along slowly, and Max wondered whether they would ever again stand on land. Once he thought he heard human voices, but it must have been imagination. At the very moment when the delicate cords of his brain seemed ready to snap asunder, a thought saved him. He wondered how the water had made the tunnels. That set him thinking, and he fancied that the underground channels had been made by the sheer force of the water, and its petrifying action--that perhaps at some time the sand had drifted to the water and become by its action solid rock. If so, the tunnels were under the desert, and maybe the open cuttings were through oases. How long had they been on the river? They had no means of keeping record of the time, but their food was nearly gone. Had he slept? He could not recall whether he had done so, and yet nature could not have endured the strain so long without sleep. These thoughts saved him from the delirium which afflicted his friend. He felt easier and more contented. A strange drowsiness came over him, and he settled himself as comfortably as he could in the bottom of the boat and fell asleep. * * * * * On the banks of a tributary of the Nile a tribe--darker in color than the Egyptians and yet less black than the Africans of the Soudan or Congo State--dwelt in comparative peace. This tribe is peculiar. Its members eat no animal food, neither do they hanker after fire water or tobacco. They do not believe in fighting, and yet at times they are compelled to resist by force of brute strength the onslaughts and invasions of their neighbors. Their dwellings are the perfection of cleanliness; the domicile of each family is surrounded with a hedge of the almost impenetrable euphorbia, and the interior of the inclosure is a yard neatly plastered with a cement of ashes, cow dung and sand. On this cleanly swept surface are one or more huts surrounded by granaries of neat wickerwork, thatched and resting upon raised platforms. The huts have projecting roofs in order to afford a shade, and the entrance is usually about two feet high. The men are well grown and rather refined. Their dress is very limited, usually only an apron of leather--either a piece of cowhide or goatskin. Tattoo marks or lines across their forehead denote their rank. The chief has his forehead lined closely together, his assistants or deputies have less in number, while the ordinary members of the tribe have only two lines.