plunge with one accord into the Nile in pursuit of it it would be difficult to determine. A hint from some curious spectator, a mere nod from the dragoman of a party would no doubt suffice; but anyhow, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the whole herd of amphibia are in the water together. The palm-log men have scampered off a few yards up stream to get a better launching place; the swimmers, old and young, simply take headers from the top of the ten-foot bank, or flop like seals into the water from some lower perch, and in a few seconds a dozen woolly heads are being swept at racing speed in mid-torrent toward the brow of the water slope, while half a dozen black bodies astride on palm logs drift more sedately in their rear.
For a moment they appear as though suspended on the summit of the watery declivity and then over—and under—they go. For some seconds scarcely the head of a single swimmer is to be seen. The suck of the under-current has drawn them down; but
