wrote in his diary: "Nothing like looking at the cheery side of things." The morrow came when he could see nothing but arid miles of sand, when his eyes ached as they ranged the pitiless desert for water; there is no cheery side to that view.

Halting his party to give them a rest, he and an American scout named Gielgud started off to make one grand effort to find river or puddle.

Hill after hill was climbed to find only a valley of dead, baked grass beyond, and at last, broken-hearted and weary, the two riders turned their horses' heads back to camp.

Soon after this the American's head began to bob till the chin rested on the chest, and he forgot the quest of water in the fairyland of dreams.

But B.-P.