“We’re all in the same boat,” responded Mr Hicks. “I guess some of the haughty aristocrats that have entertained the boss in their marble halls would think twice before speaking to him now.” “He doesn’t seem to mind,” said Mansfield dolefully. “He said this morning that the ease with which one learned to do without the refinements of civilisation was a clear proof of the innate savagery of human nature. Before I came I thought I would bring plenty of soap, whatever else I had to leave behind, but there’s no chance of using it. And as for shaving----” “Well, think how you’ll wallow in the luxuries of an effete civilisation when you get back to it!” was the sympathetic reply; but Mansfield was wondering what Philippa would think of him if he returned to England with a beard, and did not answer. “Guess we’ll all be as fit as the Arabs if this goes on much longer,” continued Mr Hicks cheerfully. “You and I are as hard as nails already. The boss can’t get much thinner, any way, but just look at him! He’s spunkier every day.” “Do you know,” said Mansfield, in a sudden burst of confidence, “it almost makes me feel queer to see him riding on day after day with that iron face, and not caring a hang for anything. He has been so ill, you know, and that affair at Jericho---- Sometimes I wonder what will happen to him if this business smashes up. He might--might--go mad.” “Is that so? That notion has struck you too!” Mr Hicks glanced round at Mansfield as the latter lowered his voice. “But don’t you go expecting a bust-up. The boss is not taking any. He’s the man to go fooling round in this desert until the Day of Judgment--sort of a dry land edition of the Flying Dutchman, so to speak--rather than turn tail and confess that he’s beaten. I’ve figured out that little mystery by this time. The boss has planked his whole pie on the table for this game, and he stands to win everything or go under. _Sabe_? Say you run across a soldier of fortune. You receive him as a man and a brother, until you get to know that he has not been above hiring his sword out to a crowd of pirates. Then you dry up. That’s how it is with the boss. If he comes to smash now he’s done on account of having sided with the Jews against his own colour. His world can never forgive that. But if he succeeds--why, then it’s as certain as things can be in this uncertain universe that he’ll become a real brand-new, properly organised, guaranteed by Europe, constitutional prince, with a part to play that will take all his time and be a thing of joy to him for ever. Do you guess he’ll let himself be fooled out of that by any dusky scarecrow of a nigger chieftainess that chooses to work the political racket and talk big about the Powers? No, sir!”