AN ALARM—NOT FRIENDS, BUT FOES—AN UNHEEDED REPORT—AN ANXIOUS NIGHT  
Shortly after midnight the corporal hurried in from the outpost to report that a djerm (large boat), crowded with men, had been observed dropping down the river.
 
"Did you see this djerm yourself, Corporal Jones?" asked Holroyd, jumping to his feet.
 
"Plain as I sees your honour," was the corporal's reply. "We all see it, sir; for the moon's so bright that it's just as clear as day. Sergeant Finnigan says as how he thinks it's them Mammyluks as there's been such talk about."
 
"The deuce he does!" exclaimed Holroyd. "Whereabouts is this djerm? On our side of the river?"
 
"Yes, your honour; 'twas nigh that chapel-looking place on the river bank."
 
"Chapel-looking place! You mean the mosque, I suppose," said Holroyd, smiling. "Come, Tom, we'll go and see for ourselves. Take charge until I return, Sergeant Bullen, and be well on the alert."
 
We hastened to the outpost, where we found Sergeant Finnigan with his men ready for any emergency. Close to the river bank, within four hundred paces of the outpost, stood a small mosque, its slender crescent-crowned minaret shooting up gracefully from amid the dark foliage by which it was surrounded.
 
"Very cautiously we made our way down the sand-hills."
"There's a jham yonder, sorr," said Sergeant Finnigan, a fine old fellow, who had put Charlie Holroyd through his facings when he first joined the 35th, and had been my father's orderly in days of yore. "A jham, your honour, full of Mammyluks, I'm afther thinkin'."
 
"I don't see her, Finnigan," rejoined Holroyd, looking in the direction pointed out. "Where is she?"
 
"The clump of trees hides her, sorr," answered the sergeant; "but she's there shure enough. Does your honour think they're the Mammyluks?"
 
"We'll hope so, Finnigan, but I have my doubts," said Holroyd. "Tom," he added, after a moment's hesitation, "let you and I creep down nearer the river, and have a look at this mysterious craft. We must discover whether she's a friend or foe."
 
Very cautiously we made our way down the sand-hills, moving directly towards the mosque for the first hundred yards, then edging away to the left until we had a full view of the river.
 
This is what we saw. Just below the mosque were some fishermen's huts, and a small wooden pier, or wharf, projecting into the Nile. Within a couple of oars' length of the wharf lay, not one, but two large djerms, both filled with armed men. By the bright light of the moon we could discern them as clearly as in daytime.
 
My companion had with him a small field-glass, through which he carefully examined the djerms—or rather their occupants.
 
"Well, are they the Mamelukes?" I whispered impatiently.
 
"Egad! they're not," was the reply. "They are Albanians, without doubt, and therefore enemies. Look for yourself, and you will see their kilts, or petticoats."
 
I took the glass, and saw at once that Holroyd was right; there was no mistaking the Albanian costume.
 
"There are between two and three hundred of them," said Holroyd, as I returned the telescope. "I must report this at once, Tom."
 
We hurried back to the piquet, and Corporal Jones was sent off to warn Colonel Macleod of the proximity of a large body of the enemy; while another man took a message to Cantillon to advance nearer to the sand-hills, and be on the qui vive in case of a sudden attack.
 
"Not that I think they'll trouble us yet awhile," observed Holroyd; "so, with the exception of advancing our support, I shall keep to our present position until I receive further orders."
 
Corporal Jones made good use of his legs, for scarcely half-an-hour elapsed before he returned to the outpost.
 
 
"Please, your honour," said he, saluting his captain, "the answer is ............