All the young people who have read Peter Parley’s Annual for the last fifteen years, know well enough what the Desert is. Some of them also may have heard, now-and-then, of its dangers. They are, of course, varied. There is the danger by heat, the danger by thirst, and the danger from the wild robbers, who prowl about like wolves upon its arid bosom. It was in the year 1850, that Edwin Keet, a traveller of great enterprise, who had not only mounted the Nile and Pyramids, and smoked a pipe with the famous Mehemet Ali, but, what is of far greater consequence, had spent many a happy day with Peter Parley, made the journey. Keet was not to be overcome by trifles. He had proceeded across the desert to Aleppo, and met with no serious molestation until he was within fifteen miles of Bassora, when early one morning he perceived himself followed by a party of about thirty Arabs, mounted on camels, who soon overtook him. As they approached, he, by his interpreter, directed them either to advance or halt. Keet was not alone—he had half-a-dozen Englishmen with him, two of whom were Lieutenants in the Navy, one a rough old sailor, and the remaining three his servants. He again called upon the Arabs to halt, or to remove to the right or left of him, for he choose to travel by himself. They answered they would not interfere with him, and went on at a brisk rate. Keet then suspected them of some design, and kept himself upon his guard. The two lieutenants prepared their pistols, and the sailors drew their cutlasses. The Arab party proceeded only a few miles, and slunk behind some rising ground in the distance:—this move, however, did not escape the quick eye of Jim Crank, one of sailors, who had been boatswain’s-mate on board the “Fairy,” and knew how to keep a good look out a-head. As the party proceeded, they came to the range of little hillocks behind which the Arabs had crouched, like so many tigers, to spring on their prey. Keet and his companions were well mounted. It is true that the lieutenants nor the sailors sat on their horses to the best advantage. All had got their stirrups too high, and looked more like old women on horseback than men, with the exception of Keet, who rode firm, slowly, and high on his saddle. “Now my lads,” said he, “we have only to sell our lives as dearly as possible—if we must die, let us die like Englishmen—if we falter or flee, our destruction is certain—if we dare the rascals, and give them two or three good volleys, they may chance to quail, and we must trust to our good horses to get us out of the fray. Here are eight of us, and we must be prepared to form a square—to make a round, or to make an angle, if necessary. So stand to your arms, my lads, and let me go in advance. Don’t give way, nor attempt to flee while you can fight, for it is fighting alone can save us.” So Keet placed himself at the head of his little army of seven, and advanced. [Illustration]