At Luxor the blessings of civilisation met us again, in the shape of a nice breakfast at the hotel and a big bath. Most of us had slept more or less in our ordinary clothes for several weeks, and everyone, from the Colonel downwards, wallowed joyfully in an unlimited supply of warm water. As we sat at breakfast, someone told me that a camel had died just near the hotel from the bite of an asp. The snake, a little creature some eight inches long, was lying under the sand, according to its wont, with its head just above the ground. The poor camel trod on it, and was bitten in the foot. It speedily died, swollen to nearly double its ordinary size, and the natives lit a fire over its carcass. The Arabs dread the little asp terribly, and its bite is nearly always fatal. A special antitoxin has been prepared by the _Institut Pasteur_ from the serum of horses bitten by poisonous snakes. A subcutaneous injection of ten cubic centimetres of this fluid is alleged to be a sure specific against the bite of any known species of venomous land-snake. But this preparation is practically useless in the Sudan, as it loses its efficacy if much exposed to light or to a high degree of heat. Nor has it, so far as I know, ever yet been tried in the case of any human being bitten by a deadly snake. I took some with me last year when exploring in Sokotra with the late Mr. Theodore Bent, but despite the glowing accounts of the efficacy of _dowa Inglizi_ and offers of large bakshish, the faith of the natives was never robust enough to allow them to voluntarily submit to a snake bite for experimental purposes. On the final stage of our railway journey from Luxor to Cairo, Lieutenant Clerk and I shared a carriage between us, and were extremely comfortable. Ali redoubled his efforts in the cooking line, and for our final meal in the train, to which we invited a military chaplain, the Rev. E. H. Pulling, we used up all our remaining tins, and dined off _pâté de foie gras_, a curried blend of prawns and chicken, and stewed apricots--a good instance of what a clever Arab servant can turn out with a spirit-lamp and a couple of tin saucepans in a crowded third-class carriage. After waiting four days in Cairo, and receiving a telegram from the Atbara which gave me no cause for the least apprehension about Cross's condition, I left Alexandra on the 17th of September for Marseilles. On board I renewed my acquaintance with Major Stuart-Wortley, and amongst the other passengers were Prince Francis of Teck and Prince Christian Victor. Prince Francis had been very ill throughout the latter part of the campaign, but during the fight had risen from his bed, in spite of medical advice, and worked a Maxim gun with good effect. We left Marseilles by the morning _rapide_ on the 21st, and as we were crossing the Channel on the 22nd, Prince Christian handed me the _Morning Post_, and pointed to a paragraph which announced the death of Cross from enteric fever on the 20th.