vator of the soil within the Khedive's dominion—here is the limit of peace, order, and security in the Nile Valley: beyond is chaos. South of this position, or, at any rate, south of that more southward zone which a salutary fear of the Haifa garrison and its patrols keeps clear of the marauder, lies a country tenanted or scoured by tribes whose business is robbery and whose pastime murder, and who seek nothing better than a chance such as they found made for themselves the other day at Atandan, of swooping down on a defenceless village, slaying as many of its inhabitants as they come across, and making off with as much booty as they can lay their hands upon. Against these desert wolves there is nothing but the British soldier-shepherd to protect the Egyptian peasant-sheep, and very vigilant, very rarely evaded, that protection is.
It is not many weeks, however, since these prowling ravagers slipped within the line of our guard—if that shadowy cordon, which,
