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"A FRENCHMAN'S GRATITUDE"

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 sandhills, 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.