then taken to my long chair and a book; but for the rest of the season C became the ardent destroyer and I his lieutenant.

I shall not forget that Sunday evening's amusement for many a long day. We had had a dull day, confined to the ten acres of bungalow land, which was over ankle-deep in mud of a type which would have been a credit to the Somme battlefield in the winter of '17. We had worked quite hard cutting, stripping, and planting cuttings of henna, oleander, and sesu. I had my bath first, and was sitting in my room writing my mail letter, while C- sang rapturously in the dark brown canal water which served for a bath. I must add that C was a very musical man, being the owner of many diverse types of noise makers, including a voice, a monkey, a motorbike, an accordion with a few notes present, and a loudspeaking gramophone, which played an excellent tune called "Let me linger longer in your arms." The alliteration pleased me, and I liked to think there were some "arms somewhere in the world.

A few minutes later the rapturous singing ceased suddenly, and C let out an oath which could have been heard in Khartum. It was quite certain what had happened to him! I found poor Csitting in his birthday suit on the edge of the bath nursing his foot.

"Where have you got it?" I asked.

"I only had my blinking feet in them five minutes ago, was his answer in between curses and groans.

Poor C was rather bad. I cut the place and rubbed in permanganate of potash, and tied a tourniquet round his ankle as tight as I could, but the poison soon spread up his leg into his groin, and for an hour and a half he lay on my bed letting forth the most frightful oaths and curses. censor would allow me to repeat them! There was only one thing to do, and that was to fill him up, and this I managed to do so successfully that by 9 P.M. he was comatose and quite happy to hobble to his angereeb supported by George the monkey sitting on shoulder.

his

From that Sunday onwards there was renewed war. Heaven help any scorpion that crossed C's path! We found a new cache of them one evening near the side door. Cspotted them while looking for high-flyers-tens of twenties of them lying on the rafters. Their destruction proved rather a problem, for they were in such

an inaccessible place. However, we found the solution. I, being the tallest, held my candle as high as I could until the flame just touched the rafter; C a few feet away held his in the same way, and I gradually moved towards him, driving the scriggling scorpions with my flame. When they found themselves between two fires then the fun began, and we had to be exceedingly wary lest they should fall down the backs of our shirts. There would be a slight noise and a couple would flop down from the rafters, and without moving our candles we contrived to scrunch them on the floor. Of course many escaped, but by the same token many also died. The rafters literally rattled with their scurrying legs, and we never failed to make a good bag from that particular spot.

As the war progressed-and it would be hard to estimate the keenness and efficiency of C after his sting-their numbers did gradually decrease until we practically defeated them by cementing up every crack and hole in the bungalow. This took two Sundays to do, I doing the right sides of the doors and windows, and C, luckily being left-handed, managed the others. This was most effective, for it kept our friends in the open, just as the efficient stopping of earths produces a hunt. Thereafter we I could meet them on the same ground, and had we been able to cement the places up earlier we should not have suffered so much. I had tried to persuade

my boy to take on the job as soon as we obtained the cement, but with the characteristic lack of initiative of natives he informed me that it was not his shughl or work, and besides he was not an osta or master in the art, and therefore would not try, so it lay with the clever meffetishin-i.e., inspectors-to do the dirty work, while the servants were content to applaud when it was finished. How often, I wonder, have I told a native to do some silly little thing, and been met with the reply, "Ma barifu," which being interpreted is, "I don't know how to," and after I myself have done the silly little thing been told, "Waalahi, enta shartir" ("By God, you are clever!") I suppose all white men who deal with black races find the same thing, and therein lies the sole consolation.

That same week George the monkey got stung. It was a pathetic sight. The poor little chap seemed to wilt, and I hardly expected that he would survive, being only six to eight months old. Also we could not find where he had been stung except that he kept his right foot in his mouth. However, he got over it, and I doubt if our administration of whisky and crushed aspirin really saved him as we hoped at the time.

It is altogether a bad time of year, because snakes come out too, and though I saw only two or three, the natives had a healthy reverence for them when taking water over sun

cracked land. In July and August the commonest reason for a native's absence from work is hua masik agrab-i.e., he has taken a scorpion. All the servants get stung, and, it seemed, regularly and invariably when we had a party. I remember my sais coming in one evening holding a stripped chianti bottle in his hand, which was full to the brim with writhing scorpions! He informed me that the agrabs were battal khallas (very bad) in the stable, and he thought I would like to see how bad! At the time I was suffering from "scorpionitis," and told him to clear out with his bag before he dropped it on the floor.

It is no exaggeration to say that one does get scorpions on the brain, literally and metaphorically. For instance, this happened to me one day. I used to put my helmets and terai on the top beam of the verandah, and one morning went out wearing the terai. Over two hours later I called in at the office, and threw down my terai on the table, and in so doing the inner hat parted slightly from the outer, and to my horror I spied a scorpion. Very carefully parting the layers I found four of them curled up round the crown of the terai, with only one thickness between me and their stings, which, though probably sufficient, was none too far away! The very next day my sais

came in after lunch and reported something wrong in the stables, and I took up my polo helmet, had a look inside after the previous day's experience, and walked out. On coming back I threw the helmet on the verandah, and just happened to hear the familiar noise of a dropping agrab, and again I saw three of them in the centre of the topee, and about to scramble up into the lining. I allowed them to do this because I wanted to see how I could have overlooked them before going out. They were under cover in no time, crawling into the interstices afforded by the buckram corrugations which allow of ventilation between the lining and the cork of the helmet. Without a minute inspection one certainly would not notice them. In the latter case I think I was nearer a sting in the head than I had been the previous day.

They are an infernal nuisance, and one can never be too careful or look too closely, and personally I always made my boy put on a coat before I did so myself, for by that means I knew there would be no agrabs in it. One cannot afford to forget for one minute their presence abroad, and there are many who have had cruel experiences, as, for example, a certain man who mounted his pony having a scorpion in his shorts. But that is another story.

THE homeward voyage of that popular single-class ship the Hibernia was enlivened and the curiosity of her passengers strongly tickled by an incident. A young lady fell overboard. There was no mystery about that. And the usual routine followed. A number of people shouted "Man overboard!" others swooned away, others threw over lifebuoys. One rather bright but futile bird, anxious to help, discharged a deck-chair into the Red Sea. Several others followed suit. And a moiety ran about calling for hen-coops and hatch-covers, but modern ships do not seem to carry any. The sea-boat was immediately called away, and as soon as way was somewhat off the Hibernia, she hit the water with such a thump that the false teeth of the mate (or as we call him now, the First Officer), who was in command of her, came unshipped. This, however, passed unnoticed, and the boat disappeared into the darkness of a very dark night. In about half an hour she returned bringing the lady, insensible.

ing to the same buoy with the young lady. Now this was surprising, because rescuers are usually seen departing over the bulwarks on their errands of mercy, and no one had seen this one go. Still the night was very dark, and it was just possible for a modest sort of fellow to do good by stealth, if really set on it, in this way.

Where the mystery came in was in this.

The man must, of course, have arrived back at the ship in the rescuing boat. There was ample evidence from her crew, but more especially from a quartermaster who had helped him into the boat, administered brandy to him, conversed with him, and finally seen him leave the boat, climb the ladder, and disappear into the ship through a brilliantly lighted entry-port. At this entry-port were gathered several persons, the captain being one of them, and both he and they stoutly denied having seen the man pass them. His identity was therefore a mystery, as well as his method of passing into a well-lighted crowded ship, not only unrecognised but unnoticed. The fact that the boat-an open one, of coursepassed along more than half the length of the ship before reaching the ladder, and was under the eager gaze of many scores of passengers clustered

2 G

I have often resented never being told how rabbits are produced from top hats, or packs of cards dwindle before my very eyes to nothing, or billiard balls are exuded from the conjurer's anatomy. I think it very mean and petty on the conjurer's part. I shall not follow his example, but set forth here in the words of the mystery man just exactly what happened and how it happened. He desires his identity to remain undiscovered, so I will call him William; and the following are ipsissima verba of William on the matter.

"We were coming up the Red Sea," continued William, 66 on a fearfully hot night, following breeze, not a breath stirring on board, and all that. A regular bender of a night. I had never spoken to her, but I had noticed her at mealtimes and sometimes on deck. Well, it was nearing bed-time, about half-past nine, the time they let one on deck in pyjamas. I had found a nice place by the rail for my mattress, where there was a little draught of air, and I was longing for the

bell to strike so as to go below and get out of my clothes. On the deck above me they were dancing in spite of the heat. I wondered how they managed to do it. I was leaning over the rail, looking down at the water sliding past and longing to jump in and get cool.

"Just at that moment there came a hail from above methe bridge, I thought. I wasn't very interested in it, and yet listened again for it. It came again, much louder and clearer this time. 'Man overboard!' The cry came so pat upon my longing for a plunge, it might have been an answer to a prayer, or a direct incitement by Providence to do the very thing I wanted to. "A life-buoy hung at my knee. I lifted it from its hooks, clasped it tight, and went over the top. I had jumped and was half-way there when I thought of sharks. was still thinking of them when I hit the Red Sea. didn't go far under, owing to the buoy. I came to the surface within a few feet of the great wall of sliding hull. Sharks vanished from my mind: another subject took their place -propeller blades. In the docks at the port of embarkation I had noticed a large board hanging to the ship's quarter. On it ran the legend,

I

Beware of the twin-screws.' At the time this did not seem to concern me. It did so now, however. All this in a flash. I kicked out lustily with my