With a heart of furious fancies,     Whereof I am commander;
With a burning spear and a horse of air,
    To the I wander.
With a of ghosts and shadows
    I summoned am to tourney—
Ten leagues beyond the wide world’s end,
    Methinks it is no journey.
 
—Tom a’ Bedlam’s Song.
 
“Good-bye, Bess; I promised you fifty. Here’s a hundred—all that I got for my furniture from Beeton. That will keep you in pretty frocks for some time. You’ve been a good little girl, all things considered, but you’ve given me and Torpenhow a fair amount of trouble.”
 
“Give Mr. Torpenhow my love if you see him, won’t you?”
 
“Of course I will, dear. Now take me up the gang-plank and into the cabin. Once aboard the lugger and the maid is—and I am free, I mean.”
 
“Who’ll look after you on this ship?”
 
“The head-, if there’s any use in money. The doctor when we come to Port Said, if I know anything of P. and O. doctors. After that, the Lord will provide, as He used to do.”
 
Bess found Dick his cabin in the wild of a ship full of leavetakers and weeping relatives. Then he kissed her, and laid himself down in his until the decks should be clear. He who had taken so long to move about his own darkened rooms well understood the geography of a ship, and the necessity of seeing to his own comforts was as wine to him.
 
Before the screw began to thrash the ship along the Docks he had been introduced to the head-steward, had royally tipped him, secured a good place at table, opened out his baggage, and settled himself down with joy in the cabin. It was scarcely necessary to feel his way as he moved about, for he knew everything so well. Then God was very kind: a deep sleep of weariness came upon him just as he would have thought of Maisie, and he slept till the steamer had cleared the mouth of the Thames and was lifting to the pulse of the Channel.
 
The of the engines, the of oil and paint, and a very familiar sound in the next cabin roused him to his new inheritance.
 
“Oh, it’s good to be alive again!” He yawned, stretched himself vigorously, and went on deck to be told that they were almost of the lights of Brighton. This is no more open water than Trafalgar Square is a common; the free levels begin at Ushant; but none the less Dick could feel the healing of the sea at work upon him already. A little cross-swell swung the steamer disrespectfully by the nose; and one wave breaking far aft spattered the quarterdeck and the pile of new deck-chairs. He heard the fall with the clash of broken glass, was stung in the face by a cupful, and , felt his way to the smoking-room by the wheel. There a strong b reeze found him, blew his cap off and left him bareheaded in the , and the smoking-room steward, understanding that he was a voyager of experience, said that the weather would be stiff in the chops off the Channel and more than half a in the Bay. These things fell as they were , and Dick enjoyed himself to the utmost. It is allowable and even necessary at sea to lay firm hold upon tables, stanchions, and ropes in moving from place to place. On land the man who feels with his hands is patently blind. At sea even a blind man who is not sea-sick can jest with the doctor over the weakness of his fellows. Dick told the doctor many tales—and these are coin of more value than silver if properly handled—smoked with him till unholy hours of the night, and so won his short-lived regard that he promised Dick a few hours of his time when they came to Port Said.
 
And the sea roared or was still as the winds blew, and the engines sang their song day and night, and the sun grew stronger day by day, and Tom the Lascar barber shaved Dick of a morning under the opened hatch-grating where the cool winds blew, and the were spread and the passengers made merry, and at last they came to Port Said.
 
“Take me,” said Dick, to the doctor, “to Madame Binat’s—if you know where that is.”
 
“Whew!” said the doctor, “I do. There’s not much to choose between ’em; but I suppose you’re aware that that’s one of the worst houses in the place. They’ll rob you to begin with, and knife you later.”
 
“Not they. Take me there, and I can look after myself.”
 
So he was brought to Madame Binat’s and filled his with the well-remembered smell of the East, that runs without a change from the Canal head to Hong-Kong, and his mouth with the villainous Lingua Franca of the Levant. The heat him between the shoulder-blades with the of an old friend, his feet slipped on the sand, and his coat-sleeve was warm as new-baked bread when he lifted it to his nose.
 
Madame Binat smiled with the smile that knows no when Dick entered the drinking-shop which was one source of her gains. But for a little accident of complete darkness he could hardly realise that he had ever quitted the old life that hummed in his ears. Somebody opened a bottle of peculiarly strong Schiedam. The smell reminded Dick of Monsieur Binat, who, by the way, had spoken of art and .
 
Binat was dead; Madame said as much when the doctor departed, scandalised, so far as a ship’s doctor can be, at the warmth of Dick’s reception. Dick was delighted at it. “They remember me here after a year. They have forgotten me across the water by this time. Madame, I want a long talk with you when you’re at liberty. It is good to be back again.”
 
In the evening she set an iron-topped café-table out on the sands, and Dick and she sat by it, while the house behind them filled with riot, merriment, oaths, and threats. The stars came out and the lights of the in the harbour twinkled by the head of the Canal.
 
“Yes. The war is good for trade, my friend; but what dost thou do here? We have not forgotten thee.”
 
“I was over there in England and I went blind.”
 
“But there was the glory first. We heard of it here, even here—I and Binat; and thou hast used the head of Yellow “Tina—she is still alive—so often and so well that “Tina laughed when the papers arrived by the mail-boats. It was always something that we here could recognise in the paintings. And then there was always the glory and the money for thee.”
 
“I am not poor—I shall pay you well.”
 
“Not to me. Thou hast paid for everything.” Under her breath, “Mon Dieu, to be blind and so young! What horror!”
 
Dick could not see her face with the pity on it, or his own with the discoloured hair at the temples. He did not feel the need of pity; he was too anxious to get to the front once more, and explained his desire.
 
“And where? The Canal is full of the English ships. Sometimes they fire as they used to do when the war was here—ten years ago. Beyond Cairo there is fighting, but how canst thou go there without a correspondent’s passport? And in the desert there is always fighting, but that is impossible also,” said she.
 
“I must go to Suakin.” He knew, thanks to Alf’s readings, that Torpenhow was at work with the column that was protecting the construction of the Suakin-Berber line. P. and O. steamers do not touch at that port, and, besides, Madame Binat knew everybody whose help or advice was worth anything. They were not respectable folk, but they could cause things to be , which is much more important when there is work toward.
 
“But at Suakin they are always fighting. That desert breeds men always—and always more men. And they are so bold! Why to Suakin?”
 
“My friend is there.
 
“Thy friend! Chtt! Thy friend is death, then.”
 
Madame Binat dropped a fat arm on the table-top, filled Dick’s glass anew, and looked at him closely under the stars. There was no need that he should bow his head in and say—“No. He is a man, but—if it should arrive... blamest thou?”
 
“I blame?” she laughed . “Who am I that I should blame any one—except those who try to cheat me over their consommations. But it is very terrible.”
 
“I must go to Suakin. Think for me. A great deal has changed within the year, and the men I knew are not here. The Egyptian lighthouse steamer goes down the Canal to Suakin—and the post-boats—But even then——”
 
“Do not think any longer. I know, and it is for me to think. Thou shalt go—thou shalt go and see thy friend. Be wise. Sit here until the house is a little quiet—I must attend to my guests—and afterwards go to bed. Thou shalt go, in truth, thou shalt go.”
 
“To-morrow?”
 
“As soon as may be.” She was talking as though he were a child.
 
He sat at the table listening to the voices in the harbour and the streets, and wondering how soon the end would come, till Madame Binat carried him off to bed and ordered him to sleep. The house shouted and sang and danced and , Madame Binat moving through it with one eye on the liquor payments and the girls and the other on Dick’s interests. To this latter end she smiled upon and Turkish officers of fellaheen , was gracious to Cypriote commissariat underlings, and more than kind to camel agents of no nationality whatever.
 
In the early morning, being then appropriately dressed in a flaming red silk ball-dress, with a front of gold and a necklace of plate-glass diamonds, she made chocolate and carried it in to Dick.
 
“It is only I, and I am of age, eh? Drink and eat the roll too. Thus in France mothers bring their sons, when those behave wisely, the morning chocolate.” She sat down on the side of the bed whispering:—“It is all arranged. Thou go by the lighthouse boat. That is a of ten pounds English. The captain is never paid by the Government. The boat comes to Suakin in four days. There will go with thee George, a Greek muleteer. Another bribe of ten pounds. I will pay; they must not know of thy money. George will go with thee as far as he goes with his . Then he comes back to me, for his well-beloved is here, and if I do not receive a telegram from Suakin saying that thou art well, the girl answers for George.”
 
“Thank you.” He reached out sleepily for the cup. “You are much too kind, Madame.”
 
“If there were anything that I might do I would say, stay here and be wise; but I do not think that would be best for thee.” She looked at her liquor-stained dress with a sad smile. “Nay, thou shalt go, in truth, thou shalt go. It is best so. My boy, it is best so.”
 
She stooped and kissed Dick between the eyes. “That is for good-morning,” she said, going away. “When thou art dressed we will speak to George and make everything ready. But first we must open the little trunk. Give me the keys.”
 
“The amount of kissing lately has been simply scandalous. I shall expect Torp to kiss me next. He is more likely to swear at me for getting in his way, though. Well, it won’t last long.—Ohe, Madame, help me to my toilette of the guillotine! There will be no chance of properly out yonder.”
 
He was among his new campaign-, and rowelling his hands with the spurs. There are two ways of wearing well-oiled ankle-jacks, spotless blue bands, khaki coat and breeches, and a pipeclayed helmet. The right way is the way of the untired man, master of himself, setting out upon an expedition, well pleased.
 
“Everything must be very correct,” Dick explained. “It will become dirty afterwards, but now it is good to feel well dressed. Is everything as it should be?”
 
He patted the revolver hidden under the fulness of the blouse on the right and fingered his collar.
 
“I can do no more,” Madame said, between laughing and crying. “Look at thyself—but I forgot.”
 
“I am very content.” He stroked the creaseless spirals of his leggings.
 
“Now let us go and see the captain and George and the lighthouse boat.
 
Be quick, Madame.”
 
“But thou canst not be seen by the harbour walking with me in the daylight. Figure to yourself if some English ladies——”
 
“There are no English ladies; and if there are, I have forgotten them.
 
Take me there.”
 
In spite of this burning it was nearly evening ere the lighthouse boat began to move. Madame had said a great deal both to George and the captain the arrangements that were to be made for Dick’s benefit. Very few men who had the honour of her acquaintance cared to disregard Madame’s advice. That sort of contempt might end in being knifed by a stranger in a hell upon surprisingly short .
 
For six days—two of them were wasted in the crowded Canal—the little steamer worked her way to Suakin, where she was to pick up the of the lighthouse; and Dick made it his business to George, who was distracted with fears for the safety of his light-of-love and half inclined to make Dick responsible for his own . When they arrived George took him under his wing, and together they entered the red-hot , with the material and wastage of the Suakin-Berger line, from locomotives in fragments to of chairs and pot-sleepers.
 
“If you keep with me,” said George, “nobody will ask for passports or what you do. They are all very busy.”
 
“Yes; but I should like to hear some of the Englishmen talk. They might remember me. I was known here a long time ago—when I was some one indeed.”
 
“A long time ago is a very long time ago here. The are full.
 
Now listen. This new railway runs out so far as Tanai-el-Hassan—that is seven miles. Then there is a camp. They say that beyond Tanai-el-Hassan the English troops go forward, and everything that they require will be brought to them by this line.”
 
“Ah! Base camp. I see. That’s a better business than fighting Fuzzies in the open.”
 
“For this reason even the mules to up in the iron-train.”
 
“Iron what?”
 
“It is all covered with iron, because it is still being shot at.”
 
“An armoured train. Better and better! Go on, faithful George.”
 
“And I go up with my mules to-night. Only those who particularly require to go to the camp go out with the train. They begin to shoot not far from the city.”
 
“The dears—they always used to!” Dick snuffed the smell of dust, heated iron, and paint with delight. Certainly the old life was welcoming him back most generously.
 
“When I have got my mules together I go up to-night, but you must first send a telegram of Port Said, declaring that I have done you no harm.”
 
“Madame has you well in hand. Would you stick a knife into me if you had the chance?”
 
“I have no chance,” said the Greek. “She is there with that woman.”
 
“I see. It’s a bad thing to be divided between love of woman and the chance of loot. I sympathise with you, George.”
 
They went to the telegraph-office unquestioned, for all the world was busy and had scarcely time to turn its head, and Suakin was the last place under sky that would be chosen for holiday-ground. On their return the voice of an English subaltern asked Dick what he was doing. The blue were over his eyes and he walked with his hand on George’s elbow as he replied—“Egyptian Government—mules. My orders are to give them over to the A. C. G. at Tanai-el-Hassan. Any occasion to show my papers?”
 
“Oh, certainly not. I beg your pardon. I’d no right to ask, but not seeing your face before I——”
 
“I go out in the train to-night, I suppose,” said Dick, boldly. “There will be no difficulty in loading up the mules, will there?”
 
“You can see the horse-platforms from here. You must have them loaded up early.” The young man went away wondering what sort of broken-down waif this might be who talked like a gentleman and with Greek muleteers. Dick felt unhappy. To outface an English officer is no small thing, but the loses when one plays it from the utter dark, and stumbles up and down rough ways, thinking and eternally thinking of what might have been if things had fallen out otherwise, and all had been as it was not.
 
George shared his meal with Dick and went off to the mule-lines. His charge sat alone in a shed with his face in his hands. Before his tight-shut eyes danced the face of Maisie, laughing, with parted lips. There was a great and clamour about him. He grew afraid and almost called for George.
 
“I say, have you got your mules ready?” It was the voice of the subaltern over his shoulder.
 
“My man’s looking after them. The—the fact is I’ve a touch of ophthalmia and can’t see very well.
 
“By Jove! that’s bad. You ought to lie up in hospital for a while. I’ve had a turn of it myself. It’s as bad as being blind.”
 
“So I find it. When does this armoured train go?”
 
“At six o’clock. It takes an hour to cover the seven miles.”
 
“Are the Fuzzies on the rampage—eh?”
 
“About three nights a week. Fact is I’m in command of the night-train. It generally runs back empty to Tanai for the night.”
 
“Big camp at Tanai, I suppose?”
 
“Pretty big. It has to feed our desert-column somehow.”
 
“Is that far off?”
 
“Between thirty and forty miles—in an infernal thirsty country.”
 
“Is the country quiet between Tanai and our men?”
 
“More or less. I shouldn’t care to cross it alone, or with a subaltern’s command for the matter of that, but the get through it in some extraordinary fashion.”
 
“They always did.”
 
“Have you been here before, then?”
 
“I was through most of the trouble when it first broke out.”
 
“In the service and cashiered,” was the subaltern’s first thought, so he refrained from putting any questions.
 
“There’s your man coming up with the mules. It seems rather queer——”
 
“That I should be mule-leading?” said Dick.
 
“I didn’t mean to say so, but it is. Forgive me—it’s beastly im............