Rudyard Kipling 253 and the sentries do not fire if one goes in chase. Twenty-five pounds and another twenty-five pounds. But the beast must be a good Bisharin; I will take no baggage-camel.” Then the bargaining began, and at the end of half an hour the first deposit was paid over to the sheik, who talked in low tones to the driver. Dick heard the latter say: “A little way out only. Any baggage-beast will serve. Am | a fool to waste my cattle for a blind man?” “And though I cannot see” — Dick lifted his voice a little — “yet I carry that which has six eyes, and the driver will sit before me. If we do not reach the English troops in the dawn he will be dead.” “But where, in God’s name, are the troops?” “Unless thou knowest let another man ride. Dost thou know? Remember it will be life or death to thee.” “I know,” said the driver, sullenly. “Stand back from my beast. I am going to slip him.” “Not so swiftly. George, hold the camel’s head a moment. I want to feel his cheek.” The hands wandered over the hide till they found the branded half-circle that is the mark of the Biharin, the light-built ridingcamel. “That is well. Cut this one loose. Remember no blessing of God comes on those who try to cheat the blind.” The men chuckled by the fires at the camel-driver’s discomfiture. He had intended to substitute a slow, saddle-galled baggage-colt. “Stand back!” one shouted, lashing the Biharin under the belly with a quirt. Dick obeyed as soon as he felt the nose-string tighten in his hand, — and a cry went up, “Illaha! Aho! He is loose.” With a roar and a grunt the Biharin rose to his feet and plunged forward toward the desert, his driver following with shouts and lamentation. George caught Dick’s arm and hurried him stumbling and tripping